I am terrible.
No question about it.

Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her ***** feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.

A worst-case-scenario mentality
Breeds emotional nightmares of what-ifs
Methodically feeling the pain in each possibility
Preparing for Hell, knowing it is impractical, improbable, and unkind
Each reaction gauged
Smiles erupt in each better choice
A familiar road traveled often
Lead only by a history of pain
It ebbs and flows, bobs and weaves at will
This reality is organized, easy to understand

Random thought of an unlikely, unfathomable future
Vivid like a film
Unwavering, persistent
There is no controlling its outcome
Forced to watch the images forged in a broken mind
Tears burn flesh and a naked heart bleeds
Stop rolling, just...stop
No amount of pleading slows the images
The pain is overwhelming
Far beyond self-inflicted, torturous, methodical thoughts
Uncontrollable, inconsolable
True and real
So very real

There is but one way to stop that future
The one shown in visions of just deserts
The future that smolders through present joy
Preemptive pain is just not an option

I've seen the future my heart has built
The shards of a shattered soul
Offer no comfort

My worst-case-scenario was but a benign freckle on the elbow of a body invaded by metastatic melanoma

The air my lungs grows stagnant
Between heartbeats
Heartbeats that dance
As he pumps it in his hand
Squeeze release. Squeeze release
Slowly, fluidly
Keeping time with his own
Basking in the moments between moments
Increasing and decreasing at his will
By his hand
Rolling on the sea of tympani
The music of his heart
Bleeds life into my own
Riding the crescendo
Between the stillness
Hidden in the silence of time

Everyone is in a mood
Happier when unhappy
At home in wistful, lamenting desire
Everyone is emotional
Though we truly are emotion
Everyone has a reason
To feel what they feel
And some of us
Feel what we feel
Feel what they feel
Feel what we would feel
Feel what they should feel
Feel what we want them to feel
It is those of us who can feel to the extreme
Who can fill up a universe with tears, bleeding hearts, and love
Yes, it is the few who can find the beauty in pain
The joy in sadness
The comfort in the last wistful breeze of the season
The rare few who are gifted with depth of emotion
It is those who we call poets

In the silence of a day like today
In the wake of yesterday's dreams
Forgetfulness feels like noncompliance
In a world where defiance still seems
Like a benign inaction of innocence
Though it feels like a stabbing of spite
Willing to kneel to your Goddess
Yet unable to yeild to Her might
There is no weakness to worship at Her altar
It takes strength to relinquish control
Relax and trust in the knowledge
Acquiesce and watch it unfold
There is freedom in the smile of an angel
There is love to be had all around
There is power in making Her smile
Don't be the sadness beind every frown
Inaction, as innocent as it seems
Breeds disappointment that infects every smile
And all those little requests
Will stop being wanted after awhile
See, for all the deeds left unfinished
And all those tiny tasks left undone
Will chisel away Her hearts desire
Leaving Her another invisible no one
An empty shell of a Goddess
Whose glory, in your heart will remain
While She curses her very existence
Languishing in true-love's refrain

No marble stare as cold as ice
Can be found inside your gaze
For it is there that heart's desire burns twice
And your eyes set me ablaze
❤
Hazel hues of wanton need
Make my cheeks flush crimson red
And make my deepest parts take heed
As you lead my love to bed
❤❤
You see me as a vision
An angel of your very own
Through a tarnished crooked halo
A pair of horns has grown
❤❤❤
Still, you see in me perfection
In fact, I am your missing piece
And I pray with everything I am
That your love will never cease