I slither under flesh like cool breezes under sheets
goosebumps haunt skin blanketed by the shadow of a serpent
all forked tongues and vampiric teeth
2. Sultry is Madame Night when she pulls her veil over her brow
musky perfume is spellbinding and perverse
boys will play rough under the full moon tonight
3. His irises swell and swim when the stars return his gaze
head back in a pantomime of defeat
there is an abyss surging within his body
the threat of overflow is sensual
4. Ghoulish girls adorned in faux fur and red lipstick are on the prowl
cemeteries and Poe are all they know of romance
Anabelle Lee's young orphan lies weeping

Shoulds
Have horns
And ram reindeer with
Thistle bush antlers

I grow
From the seeds of others
Leaf green
As lilac winter tells me.

And the advice of others
Protects
Culpability from
The mouth of a sweet whisper.

Shoulds
Grow fangs
And live in dark forests
I know this to be their opinion.

I live
Longer longings
I rise
With every new day

And they, are still there
Dressed in soft leather,
Stirring teas and
Ready to tell me paths ahead

Predicting the worst weather
Without knowing the storm
They condone.
Advice.

Put me in a chokehold and press my face into goose feather
Pillows
stained with mascara tears, acid rain rolling down translucent
Cheeks
glowing and painted with rouge the color of
Fire
hot in my heart and pumping to the furthest reaches of my
Limbs
bound and held captive by smooth black ropes leaving me
Helpless
to go against your will, I am at the mercy of games we
Play
rough and don't treat me like I'm fragile I'm not meant to
Break
down barriers and ascend stairs toward the gates of
Heaven
Is found in leather and lace, cuffs, safe words and
Submission
resonates with angel wings beating as drums

I dreamt one night of my mother gently moving the clasp of a shimmering necklace back round to my spine and
Bringing the charm once more to center in the middle of my chest
This act, this scene, caught something within her
Perhaps it was her reflection in the chaon links which pleased the poet  
Perhaps she got a flash of memory, a moment of pure nostalgia--
Anyhow, "why" matters not
Only that she smiled and felt inclined to say
"someone special has been keeping you in their thoughts"
(As if something so shallow were worthy of swooning)
Instead of smiling I laughed in her face cruelly
I pondered the absurd tales of love
Love, as sung by the unhappy ladies in the church choir
Love, painted by Poe as tragedy and death, as something leading to doom
Love, felt by shy children in the neighborhood, kept alive so long as giggles and scraped knees remained
Love, church, husband wives and babies, happy home and all the comforts, jewelry boxes brimming with diamond rings and necklaces
I laugh at the belief of a god who allows himself to be held hostage in the mind of a man
As if I would feel honored to be thought of by anyone, as if I felt I needed this god or this man to know me and to love me
As if love could ever be so important

Magical, ethereal
A dark angel tip toeing on heart strings and violins
Smoke and mist and vapor dancing something ancient and secretive
A siren on the shore and a mermaid at the depths
Darkness and light incarnate
Effervescent, eternal
A black hole imploding, a star death
Beautiful and mysterious
Unending
Infinite, enticing, intimidating.
Perfection to the core, perfection in and outward

Tripping over his feet like so many shoelaces he danced clumsily
Calloused hands holding loosely onto the featherweight of my neglected body
Breath
alcohol tainted and stained with years of nicotine inhalation
raises goose flesh on the whole of my being
My vision is doubling
the dogeared books decorating the walls of his room
pristine white candles glowing hot and soft on the altar
wine glasses silently radiating with a deep maroon
He spins me slowly round
I imagine I look like the ceramic dancer
inside a music box
Inside a fantasy world all my own
My head is getting dizzy from the alcohol from the smokes from the movement
and I stumble
Everything round me slows to an unsure crawl as the world shifts horizontally
Hands grasp the air as my feet pinwheel
Flowing fabric floats away from my body
an angel falling
Mouth opens and a soft gasp is allowed
This happens within the seemingly unending seconds
between leaving the relative and drunken safety of his arms and
Cracking my skull upon the altar adorned in so much white flame
Everything stills and again
There is silence
I do not
hear his screams as my heartbeat matches that of a hymnal I used to sing in church and
I overflow with the memory
As my blood pools beautifully
Complimenting the darkness of the wine stained crystal
I imagine
The altar had been built for me
The corners of books folded to please my eye
The drinks the music the melancholy all exist for
My epilogue
My epitaph
My eternity