What has made
this lioness of
the high stars
above-
queen of the
great safari -
cower on
rough,
quaking knees,
before her
mighty throne?

I blame his
brown,
dripping
eyes
that could
so easily
****** away
her roar,

And the
silken sweet way
he plays his
magic flute
as if to
charm
the great
Black Mamba.

He jests
with a heart
so full and
merry,

So light
upon his feet,

I'm to my own,
before I know it,

My heart beating
to his beat.

He's found a power
more mighty
than pride,
more great
than power
itself,

I am on my feet
and to my knees,

Bless Me.


And, You -

For allowing me
favour.

again,

i will bury
your
honeyed
words
down, deep
in between
my *******,

humming loudly
above reason,
muffled by
passion-

by love,
my love-

don't waste me.

my pearly eyes
and heaving chest
are
truths i keep
meaning
to share

but
you harvest
so often
the honey
seeds
you sow

give them time
my love

don't waste me.

i'm your
darling dear
with fluttering
fingers
grabbing at
your hand

to
stay afloat
in this
teeny boat
made

perfectly,

a la
Us.

there's something about
letting a person speak
when there's really
nothing
to say
at all,

the pressure placed
becoming so overwhelming
that their heart
and gut
start spewing from
the poor thing's
opened
pores.

imagine the feeling
you experience
thinking of one's
innards doing a thing
like
that thing -

it's a rather
awkward scene
to take in.

--

I haven't a direction
that i'm looking to go in
specifically,
but i believe if i
take two lefts
and remind you

...

and another left
to bring us
back to

that girl who keeps
speaking
and
with every line
is
speaking
for all to
hear.

Now,
you know my secrets.

i am singing soft pinks,
after my too bold reds;

i mean,
maybe, my great, round bursts of
clumsy heart
didn't bruise as sweetly
as i'd hoped.

i haven't a thing against
climbing to middleground;

my lips are left
less chapped.

--

I am a
yet, wild queen -
learned-head bowed
low.

heart lifted

-in anticipatory gusts
of questions,
peppered with thanks,
for the inner knowing,
melding into my all-

to the heavens, above,
lifting up fervent
pleas and blessings:

thanks, for the continuing cycle
that continued
long enough
for me to believe
and is continuing,
even still -

this was something
different.

not singing after?
but, softening to?

this feels much,
much more like home.

let's talk about love
and how it ***** your **** up
while you sip on its elixir
like it's doing
the most
wonderful thing in
the world
for you -

how it thrusts you
into the darkest places
you've ever known
to feel **** you
really feel

but
not
really
at all -

let's talk about how
beautiful it makes the world
when it does you
right
and how dark it can get
so fast -

or

how it can put
your entire
life
on fast
forward
or
set it on
a blissful
pause
or
bring it
to a
screeching--

STOP.

i've gotten my hands
plenty *****
in this game -
thinkin' i wouldn't
need gloves
to play

but
****'s dirtier than money
though
sweeter than honey...

so i sip
once more -

in lieu of
the learned
and because
of
the learned -

i'm downin' that elixir
until i'm ****** over
silly
because what
has been
learned
has been
learned
hard
& good:

drunken love
is the
only way
to love.

drip me dry
from all these
carnal cases
of
spiritual
expansion
or
personal growth
or
whatever
whatever
you wanna
call it
this time
you simply
can't hide

the truth.

i'm exasperated-

tell me
what your
truth
sounds like
'cause
i keep on
confusin' it
with
what i call
truth

and, **** ain't
linin' up
right.

deliver us from
evil
in manner
and in
thought -

deliver
me
from
*****
deliveries.

screamin' red
snowball hat
clashin' so
loudly
with my
fall of
that year's
new
hand-me-over
jeans.

my bike was fast.

silver metal
peekin' out
from beneath
the
shimmering white
& pink
chipping
paint job
my uncle
had given me
when
baby & i'd
turned 7.

it was sleek
i was meek -

good riddance.