◊

I cannot feel
or reel in the things that i deem to be unreal
There's a blank spot in my heart a pit
that's been teared open and wholly ripped apart

Do not dare falter or stumble in your path
Do not scorn or scoff at this nor dare lay a frown
Do not look down at me
and see as if i am some widowed gal reaching out her hand

I pretend to know where the bird lays it's nest
Pretend to know the flowers are here to stay
but that's a play pretend, i know nothing except the horrors that stay grey and feed all day
I pretend to smile and seem as if i hadn't been bleeding where i lay

Go on with your path,
falter not at the widow least you desire to face it's wrath
Go on,
least you find what's missing then serve your hand,
Good man

Hunger eyes stared down at the rod,
                awaiting it's own ***** alee    
Laid on the satin sheets, arms entangled
                milky thighs spread apart
Hunger eyes too stared down at me
    laying in inescapable, trembling bondages
A heat burning through our hearts - through us:
                That was desire.

I love him like this -
       where stars align;
               Buttons undone. Eyes lit with a burning flame
waiting to engulf me whole.
Touching me here, there - everywhere
       tracing the freckles on my skin that lay like speckled stars
   to the lines on my palm. Memorising.
His mouth gilding across with a wicked purpose
      as urns of a thousand suns pour blazing down my throat
               Not us did the saint align and embrace our pure hearts
We were in the other's self the ruin
               of purity's gentle caress
where my hand rests at
               in between to ease the trembling core
our bodies lay in the dead of the night
           both of us searching for more
                to no one but him do I come to thee!
as a cry aches through the silence of the night
       our souls connect - one of each
lit for each other
        lost, weighed on each others palms;
      This was our desire

White walls
Does anybody see them too?
Locked in
as I am in my head
no way of escape
no way of death

White walls...
No single mark, No mess
It's so bright
perhaps for me,
this is death

Was i a stepping
stone? A little r
                            o
                             c
                           k
                             to get where you
                        are now? Perhaps
                        that must have been
                        fun...
                             ­                                 Maybe our definition
                                                      ­        of fun do not compare
                                                         ­     to be the same now -
                                                                ­                                                          
I used to have fun when
you would be around,
maybe for you too...
but not in the same
way that I found.