There's something...
infinitely beautiful,
dancing, delicately,
on pulled threads,
across nimble fingers:

the cat's cradle,
between emotional agony,
and mental silence.  

When every tear, is at last, exhausted...
when your lungs, wheeze, fluidly,
from helpless overexertion,
and, gasping for breath,
you turn your cheek, for air,
your pillow:
now, a man-made lake...

the numbness... suffuses,
your entire being.

Loud suffering, falls silent.
Red-rimmed eyes,
become too swollen,
to examine their own pain.

The nothingness blankets you,
in its warmest embrace.
You become swaddled; baby-soft, again,
yet plated, in auric detachment.

...Nothing, can touch me,
nothing,
can inform, my placid heart,
to beat.

in this moment,
I am free, of its emotional trappings.
its threads, can't pin me;
its pull, can't drag me down.

My lips,
shape a smile,
but it only serves, to show...
that it no longer hurts,
to stretch a wooden bridge,
across the gaping void.

...but even so... it's just a band-aid.

It won't fix, what's broken,
and the blood,
will seep through,
the gauze, again.
The pain, will return;
it'll grow knuckles,
that form fists,
which wield knives.

But, for now...
I lay myself, to rest...
blunted, mummified,
in a buzzing swathe,
of pristine, white.........





silence

I feel myself

atrophy
Thoughts, splayed
like beautiful, oiled legs
in a ******* centerfold...
Thoughts, disarrayed
in a state of feeble decay
I'm taken apart,
deconstructed
What's a brain, with a broken vessel,
what's a spine,
when the medulla oblongata,
falls,
to a gelatinous mush?

put me away, piece by piece
in boxes
that open, to reveal,
smaller boxes, and smaller boxes still
I become...miniscule... miniature
inconsequential,
in the great nature of things

a little wooden matryoshka doll, being peeled from its shell
layer by layer...
but what if the innermost chamber
is hidden, under lock and key

and what if you crack it open, to find
your fingers are smeared,
in the pungency, of my blood?

It matters not...
I drift skyward...no tether,
to pull me down, to earth again
and there's not enough oxygen,
to breathe,
as I drift through space...
but if I return to Earth...

the sudden resurgence of gravity
will bring me crashing,
to the ground.

...And it all...Goes...Black.

Thoughts twist me, into acrostic knots.
The knots, that nimbly choke...the clots, that simply grow.
I can't escape the thoughts,
like they were wadded ropes.
I flail, the plated locks...
and fumble, bladed keys.
But I can't break the seams;
that go on, breaking me...
I can't evade, the dreams...
with nothing next, to me.
So, even strengthless peace...
becomes the enemy.  
And though I feign, release...
and fake, control of these...
These ******* painful things...

they take ahold, of me.

Resin glazes
soft, buzzy lips,
like oozing droplets,
of fine, dark sap.
A flash, of dancing tangerine,
tangoes, absently,
before bleary,
red-rimmed eyes,
as I light up
and burn down,
the entire rainforest...
just a few little leaves, at a time.

Those who know me least,
but see me, daily...
idling, in dark waters,
might describe me as quiet,
distant, and remote.
An island, unto myself
which waves its palms, prettily,
to strangers,
and sprouts tender blossoms,
under the intemperate eye
of its own, jealous sun.

Its shifting swell,
of hourglass sands
only seem, to glow,
and its obscenely blue waters,
only appear, to shimmer,
the further you draw,
from it.

...Am I naught, but a mirage,
which thirsty tourists,
may deign to sail to,
and from,
in discontented droves?

I keep the secrets, of the land,
harnessed,
under tribal hands.

I offer them nothing,
whatsoever,
and yet, they are voracious
for more, of the same.

They smile, and gasp,
awed, by my hibiscus fields,
and my tropical skies.

But do my fire pits,
not strip the flesh,
from roasted pigs,
turned whole, and lifeless
upon its busy spits?

And does the roaring maw,
of my active volcanoes
not devour its transgressors
beyond ash, and bone?

Bristles, glide delicately...
over cold refuse.

Random bits,
of detritus:
and your broom devours them,
indiscriminate
a placidly lurking monster,
with an unchoosy palette.  

It's almost a mindless,
shuffling dance,
with failure, for a willing partner,
while regret, lingers sulkily,
in a dark corner of the room,
and watches the two of you
locked,
in a very forced
minuet.

The world feels like it's over,
and every brush stroke, feels
like its own humdrum ending.

Then,
all at once,
when you least expect it, to


your agitated trash ,
lifts its papery little wings,
takes flight,
and flutters gently away,
in a storm of linen,
beige, and white.

The faintest flicker of hope,
rises, from the discard pile:

a wildcard moth
seeking its own, besotted flare,
of quavering torchlight.

Nuclear skin, and eyes...
Chemically bent, to erode.

Set me afire, and watch me explode--
watch me...
let the ghosts, of your Chernobyl,
become my own, and haunt me.

I'm an active field...
Yielding blackened wheat,
for a [redacted] meal.

I'm an active field...
stealing slabs, of meat,
in lacerated weals.
Watch me...

let the ghosts, of your Chernobyl,
become my own, and haunt me.

When thunder shades your brow,
I could burst the storm clouds,
looming overhead,
until a smile, reignites you,
and you glow, like a shining sun.  

When flares, of helpless pain,
snarl tender joints,
I want to find the thread,
hidden, in your bed, of nerves
and PULL it gently,
until the knot,
pops out.

I'd like to scry,
the deep, shining pool, of your eyes,
and read their formations,
like tea leaves.
I hope to exorcise the demons,
that lean over your shoulders,
and laugh,
at anything you do.

I want to take your hands, in mine,
and infuse you, with my energy.
I long to push my palm, against yours,
and see if our lifelines
kiss, as ardently as we do,
and travel harmoniously, together,
under a wake, of shimmering stars.

I yearn...to pour myself upon you,
like healing water,
and bathe, the full of you,
into the gentle tides, of me.

To tie, the nucleus
of our aching souls, together,
in a flagrant twist,
of the loveliest
flowers, and vines...
because I need you, to hold me,

to cherish me
beyond lives, that end,
beyond worlds, that collapse,
beyond stars, that explode
into supernovas
of guttering stardust.

In you...
I can see a love,
that transcends

lives, together
dimensions, apart...

and galaxies, that could crumble,
only to release more stars,
around us,
like free, and floating fireflies
in the blue-black expanse,
of sky.

What bliss, it could be,
to burn, like an eternal torch,
with you,

beyond the dark well,
of time.

What bliss, it could be,
to take your hand, in mine
and jump, beyond,

the spinning,
quiet void,
of death.

I wake, to the rhythm, of you
breaking slowly, behind my ribcage.
The orchestral swell;
the auric light, of rosy dawn...
blooming, to new life.

More, than a phantom.
More, than a phantasm.

I yearn, to be wound, around you,
in long, lingering threads,
of bruisy, purple-gold daylight,
and pull tight, as I knit myself,
around your stretched form...
soft-skinned, and sleepy...
pulling you so tight to me,
that your body barely rocks
upon the edge, of the tapestry needle.

Let my legs, be the woven fabric,
that ensnares your hips,
and pulls you, even closer, to me.
I want to feel, your rippling laughter
burble, through your chest.
I want to swim, in languorous strokes,
the fathoms, of your aching mind,
with the ease, of turning your thoughts:
flipping through its dog-eared pages,
like the well-read chapters,
of a readily studied, book.

My arms, seek to hold you,
and cradle you, to me,
lips, pressed to your skin,
plush, and satin pillow soft.

I want to devour you, in rapacious,
repeated kisses...I want to feel
the spring-coiled tension,
above your shoulders, snap, and unwind
relaxing, in helpless surrender,
at my nymphic touch,
as the rest, of you...hardens, like resin
and then melts away,
between my own spread,
buttery thighs.

I want to be so filled,
with the full, of you,
that you spill over, and escape...
I want to clutch your face,
in the tenderness of my fingertips,
and lose myself, in the labyrinth
of your lovely, dreaming eyes.

I need you, like flowers,
need gentle rains, to bloom.
I desire, you...like the prime, of night,
awaiting the the rising moon.

and I wait, for you...
like the guitar string solo,
in a beloved tune.

I am caught, in your eye,
and I drown, in your tectonic wave.
You rattle, intimately,
for me, and shake...

You shift,
minutely,
soundlessly,

collapsing, into sprawling patterns,
into formulaic strains, of madness.
Then you madden, me, as you cascade,
into beautiful, and brilliant shades:

Your Rorschach mosaics,
in prismatic hues.
Each gemlike, facet, of YOU, that is you...

Burning out my gaze,
with your radiance,
as you irradiate...

I'd give anything...to label each color,
that infuses, your face...

Scattering trickles of light,
and roseate shapes...

as if your soul,
were a treasure trove,
of the most precious jewels.

Your vibrant emeralds...
your smoky citrines...
your sapphire blues...
your ruby reds,
and your royal amethysts, too

You twist, in my hands...
and, under the light,
I turn, and return, too,
if only to seek,
a fleeting glimpse...of you.

I don't think, I really want this...

But surely, I
still have the eyes, to perceive
that she's the kind of,
fever dream
that makes grown men, and women,
lament, and weep

for the way, her jeans
gather round, her knees, and thighs--
for the way, her eyes...
pay homage, to the ancient skies...

would you take...a ride?
And, hey...would I...?
I don't think I might...

but she asserts her swerve,
with a certain sway,
and her curves,
would serve,
as hors d'oeuvres,
for days.
Her fruity lips...
with a sparkle glaze

they trickle...dark...as marmalade.
But if harvested, late...
what's their carnal taste?

...Is she the mark, on the grave,
by which, I think...I know myself?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy...
does it consume me?
Does it titillate me?
...I don't feel me, hyperventilating?

What if she turned, to face me?
To lay me, lace me
between her thighs...
internalized; eternal lies,
to sate me,
with her flavor, to bait me
acerbic, and savory...
Her skin, burning, like a lamp wire,

and her fingertips, debasing me.
What if I, was her vampire,
and she,
the one slaying me?
A slaking queen...
aching to break, her thirst...
so, what if I staked her, first...?
Would she mortify,
like ash?
Or would she forge, a lighted path,
and make me wish,
she had, forced...my hand?

No...I don't think I really want this...

not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy.

I would give you, almost anything,

for the borders, to close.
For our separate galaxies,
to inch, and crawl, ever closer,

winding and unwinding
around each other,
like the red thread of fate,
rocking gently, on twin spools.

I would give up, almost everything,

for my lifeline, to unravel,

if only...

to retangle, around yours,
in a closed,
but infinite loop.

I would give you my all,
my everything

For the distance,
between us...
to vanish.
For the spaces around us,
to suture themselves, together,
and heal,
like gaping wounds.

For the sublime favor,
of feeling you shine down, on me,
in a way no other, could do.

To see all your love,
reflected, in your mirrored irises,
and know that no one,
stands before, or behind me.

And I'd sell my own soul,
without a second thought
just to hear you say

That I'm your one,
your only love,
and no other
could ever

do.

You trail my body, in profane whispers
as teeth, gnash, above you.
Fingers, play your spine;
hands, rub up, your back, and neck,
and waterfall down, again,
like party streamers,
as my lips, seek,

every heated,
vanishing inch, of you.  

Secret moans, escape vibrating chords.  
Steam, from a rattling kettle.
You snake your way,
down peaks, and valleys.
I lift my head, to suckle
Your thick fingers,
as they rub, roughly, hungrily,
over aching *******,

but instead, they twine,
like a boa constrictor,
around my open throat,
as you latch on, to one pink bud,
and abuse it, with your tongue.

You laugh,
diabolical;
Hell, heavy in your grin.

Your thick member dances,
and sways, before my eyes.
Svengalian, in its torment.
Dizzying me,
as I choke, with a tensing throat
...charmed,
lured, forward,
to meet its one-eyed gaze...

but then,

you tell me,
you'll only **** me,
if my begging pleas,
my cries,
for my Sir, to fill me,
can work their way past,
their narrowing windpipe.

I claw, with catlike intensity,
at your wrist, and arm.
Tiger-striping you,
as you squeeze.

My tongue, grows too heavy,
for its moist cell...
and lolls out, as glassy eyes, roll up.

Oh, Mister...if I black out...
I only hope, that I wake up,

with your shaft, searing my tongue,
and your glaze,
laquering, repainting,
my made-up face.

Vision swims back;  
but you slither, downward:
a fork tongued serpent,
dithering, in the garden.
Your knuckles, are tinted:
red, and white, with tension.
You grip my ankles,
and fan, creamy legs,
to their outer limits--
your mouth, urging my poppy,
to bloom, euphoric.  

I scream,
in a hoarse voice:

I scream, for you,
to devour my passionfruit:
to bathe your tongue, in it,
so I can polish your aching rod,
with my forbidden citrus...
but you ****, and roll,
the hard seed,
with languid,
languorous motions,

feasting on the rind,
until I'm shaking, spasming
thrusting, upwards,
in a mindless,
fevered sweat...
an oasis, pooling
around burning thighs.

I want to ride, your face;
I want to suffocate you,
until your cheeks, suffuse,
with color,
and you struggle, to breathe.
I want you, to grip my thick hips,
to feel me, melt;
to see me glow, above you,
lit from within,

like egg tempera,
on canvas skin.

But your flogger, drives down,
and jolts me, from my reverie.
It drives, hard,
down my nakedness,
seemingly splitting
delicate pink buds, in two,

as I scream, and writhe, pathetically
under each blow,
in a helpless
surrender.

Welts, are already blossoming;
recoloring ample *******,
under braided,
leather strips.
Your arm, rises, and falls,
pistonlike

with a professional wrist snap,
again...and again.

I howl; *******,
bruised:
wanton,
in my want, of you.

...I guess it's my turn,
to wear the stripes, now.

He stirs, slowly...
watching the spoon,
break the fog,
settling over his morning cup...
opalescent eyes,
scanning the sleepy blue,
of daytime horizons.

Porcelain fingers, shift
into hard, ceramic claws;
first smoothing up,
snuggly cotton pantlegs,
and then running them down,
forcing his navied thighs, to separate.
The fork, in the road,
as I crawl in, between them,
headlights, and a glossy smile,
on full beam.

He jerks, with surprise
at the unexpected motion,
lips, arrested in a subtle purse--
a pinched pink,
pouted gently, outwards

to blow away the steam
gathering, around tense fingers.
I mimic the tension,
with my own, slaking lips.

Hands shift,
to cup him,
and slide, upwards.
Suddenly, he needs two,
to grip the mug.

My tongue, slicks out,
wetly,
to follow his ascent,
as he stands, upright;
neapolitan soldier,
with the suede skin.  

The heat,
gathers,
in my palms
flushing his thighs,
and it circulates, warmly
against flickering flesh;
mouth, moving limberly
to drink him,
under the table.

My feral eyes,
fix his drunken ones,
as we both take each other,
in.

"I hope you saved some cream, for me?
Good morning, honey."

If I could pull the threads,
that stitched the universe, together...
If I could slip between the tracks,
and barricade myself,
between buoyant clusters, of atoms
would you take note of my absence?
Would you remember I existed?
Would you even register,
the loss of me?
Or would I become as distant,
and extraterrestrial to you,
as a forgotten galaxy,
would you recall little more, than
terra firma, beneath your feet,
and never notice
that there's a hole
in the weeping glass dome,
above you?

Please don't look at me,
as I say this...
I know you've been so hurt,
and jaded.
What's the worth, of verse
when their words, were wasted?
I just want to be YOURS,

I want to merge our spaces,
I want to converge our places,
and disturb the stasis...

but I'm averting your gaze,
because there's no vacancy,
where your stones, will lead.  

Baby, what would it take,
for you to see home, in me?

I'm just so tired, of faking,
not being lonely...
I keep waking without you,
and aching, from deep.

I want to tangle around you, sweet,
as we're chasing sleep.
I want to chain all your doubts, up,
in braided sheets.
I don't want to wake up,
without you,
Laying next, to me.

I wanna take up,
your compass,

and pump,

til it... redirects,
to ME.

...But you behold me, divinely,
when you should be HOLDING me.
...Baby, what would it take,

for you to finally see home,
in me?

I gasp, for breath...fading away, below you
helpless, beneath the deluge, of you.
Heat rises, and steams, a rosy flush,
into pale, cold cheeks...
as you waterfall above me,
and I turn my face up to you, in gratitude.

I am a dry...arid flower...
dominate me, with your downpour.
Keep me moaning, in little, breathless gasps...
drunk, on your deluge,
lusting, for the gentle, seething weight,
of your measured, eager touch...
so thirsty, for your rain,
as you slick parted lips, in waves.

Slowly...almost painfully
I ache, and writhe
as you pour over me,
and I gulp, hard,
against your hot embrace.

Mmmmm...lover...caress my bare skin
stream, relentlessly
across the peaks, and valleys
of my dripping, naked body.

I'm so wet, beneath you.
Every dance of droplets,
across these spreading hips,
and long, feminine legs...
every prolonged, whispering touch...
every sweet, steaming kiss,
steals my breath away,
and leaves me shuddering,
quivering,
groaning, helplessly,
beneath the lick of your warmth
across these rounded, fleshy cheeks.

I die, a little more, each time
you wash over me,
As I drink you in
...unashamed of the little pool,
you've got forming beneath my bare feet,
and tightly curled toes.

I'm...drenched,
tingling, from my head,
to my toes...
soaked, but satisfied,
beneath the incredible force, of you.

...I just can't get enough, of you.

Desynchronized glances,
evaporate
into long, ravenous gazes.

Each of us is a mirrored pool,
a reflecting pond,
that the other could swan-dive, into,
facefirst, and drown in.

We drip hotly
and melt, for each other,
like simmering rivers
of molten candle wax.
I twist around you
like a curl, of oiled hemp.
Your fingers tense, grip,
and peel back the skin, of
cotton thigh highs
as your face elongates,
and your mouth, moves...

languorous tongue,
trailblazing downwards
from the mons veneris,
to worship, devoutly,
at my sacred shrine, below.
The slippery wetness,
of exposed thigh
slicks, and grazes,
your stubbled cheeks
tenderly perfuming
the tensed column,
of your working throat,
with my feminine scent.

We interlock, tongue and groove.

Your tongue tip flicks the nub,
back and forth,
like an ignition switch,
as the engine hums, to life.

You stoke my fires,
with every lingual stroke.
You blow my torch,
into a fervid flame
that spreads heat throughout
the inner chamber,
and you warm your face
in its baking, radiant glow.

I bite down, delirious with ecstasy,
into the skin, of my own tensing arms;
wrists bound, in python restraints, overhead:
resisting the force, of the virulent scream
forcibly spreading, throughout pink lungs.

Yes...oh, God, yes.

I churn, from the hips, down
raining, into your expectant face,
mouth pealed, helplessly, for the scream...
and the sunlight breaks overhead
as I smile brightly, and collapse, around you.

...Oh...puddin'...have mercy, on me.

Now...

we separate,
and interchange places, smoothly.

Your hands, dig, into the voluminous depths
of loosely bound, twin comet tails.
You wrap their trailing, cherry cola ends,
around tight, clenched knuckle fists,
as my lips, purr, against ever-expanding skin.

Don't you dare...let go,
of these handlebars, baby,
as I rev up, hard,
hit a wet patch, and SLIDE.

....Hold on tight, to me, and RIDE.

The sun gleams,
and glitters, famously...
a gilded disco ball,
hung from the ceiling,
of a peaky blue sky.

White clouds, are stretched,
and whipped out,
to a spun-sugar confection.

The wind, snags my legs,
and my bare wrists.
I feel like a side of beef,
on a frozen meat hook.

I gaze, longingly
at the array,
of tender seedlings,
screaming,
to be unpackaged, at last,
and to be freed...

to be given unto the earth,
and surrendered to the elements,
like eager children,
that they may rise, and grow!
...but I can't seem to recall
any of their names, or faces.

...I'm a terrible mother.

Were you impulse buys?
...I hope you'll all be beautiful.
The arctic, unseasonal breeze,
bites at my wrists, again:
a bad-tempered dog,
with an impatient demeanor.

...**** all of this,
I'm going back inside.

Do you feel me,
even now...?

...I can still taste you,
the ineffable flavor, of you...
the unfathomable essence,
of you.

The scent of you, like sweet suede,
and oiled leather,
teases flaring dragon nostrils...
and you cling, to my palate,
foaming ebulliently,
upon anemic lips,
in a dark ale; a rich wave,
like a full-bodied stout.

Your molecules, dance,
so harmoniously;
falling into step, with mine,
and then bursting,
into sweetly soured air...
still waltzing, in an undisturbed cadence
on the back,
of my outstretched tongue.

I hunger, for you;
for the undivided sum, of you.
I long, to be punch-drunk,
on the volume, of your liquor...
and walking dizzy circles,
trying to find the unbroken path,
in the medium of starlight,
that will lead me, to your own galaxy.

You ease, and excite,
in a fragment of breath,
that steams static skin,
and urges it, into eager life.

You exist, in a tangled stream
of my consciousness...
the ghostly imprint of your lips,
teasing the ganglia,
like the trailing, kitsune tails,
of a whip,
and brushing towards the brain stem
in long, torturous flicks.

You live there,
like an implant...
you are woven, into a carnivorous tapestry
of living, breathing scars...
that reach around my heart,
like needful arms.

Oh, my sweet,
fractured,
lover

won't you rob my lungs,
of their next succession, of breaths?

...And render me comatose, again.