eating breakfast
on a beaten girl's face
she ignites when you take it
she glows in her faith
with gold and blue phalange atop sleekest new marrow
she is clear raincoats and black body polish
she is siamese cats asleep on a windowsill
she is the rusted remains where the ices draw narrow
she is reading rimbaud and drowning brian jones

the swan's neck upper reach
is steady with guilt
engraved with your initials
a monogrammed friese
on white marble quilt

I smoke every cigarette in the pack
long enough that the filters melted
and my lips blacken
like the nightsky,
when you stepped down
the granite staircase
in a burgundy bouclé dress
that radiated brighter than
the chandelier overhead.

All we ever had was enough.
Now I smoke to remember
the nights when the fog
followed us home
and the music of us
slow dancing in silence.

I pack my bags
and I leave my keys at your door.
You hold me close and you whisper:

*"What the hell are you waiting for?"

The brim of the lip drips
Ecstasy, misery, lust

The brim of the lip drips
Satisfaction is a must

The brim of the lip drips
Re-stating its birthmark on skin

The brim of the lip drips
Just like a new born baby's sins

Silly little girls of youth.
With their perky little perfect *******.
Narrow hips and smooth skin.
They look in the mirror and see all their insecurities.
Fantasies about all their lovers to come.
They brag to their friends and feel nothing inside.
But we are the pleasure seekers.
Creatures of seduction.
We brag to our lover
How they race our mind with desire
Turn our lust into reality
Slow our hearts into love.
We are the pleasure seekers.
Our bodies are full and ripe.
We are women
No silliness
Pure honesty
No hidden agenda
Here for pleasure
Not for heartache or pain
No facade of who we aren't
We are the pleasure seekers.
Not needing affirmation in the mirror
The mirror shines back our reflection
Of beauty
Lines only we see
The pleasure is not all ours but our lovers'.
Physical looks not of importance
Its a spiritual existence now
Out of our body of imperfection
Only our lover sees the perfection
We are the pleasure seekers.
We are the women of lovers.

Babe I miss you
but today I got these good vibes
and tho I'm still blue
I'm looking to even bluer skies.

I've thought about killing myself many times
but tonight, under these stars
I've got the rhythm and I got the rhyme.
I'm down for some camp-fire peace, let's lose these wars!

Here in We-Town
We don't fuss, we don't fight.
Life is worth living
Let's do this right.

pax.

We sit on the blankets in the park; I say he smoked.
And they say:
ew! Cigarettes are disgusting, I could never
poison myself like that.
And they take another sip from their contraband Sailor Jerry's
And they light one more bowl

And I don't say anything,
But I am surrounded by walking contradictions
slurring their words and crying out compliments

And somehow I became one of them
somehow I inhaled like them
--too wary of the pipe,
I breathed the smoke from their mouths' instead
And I threw back my head and
let the alcohol worm its way into my system, decimating my pride
like the mold that covers a bruised peach.

And nothing of consequence happened.
it's all too easy to hide.

What could be more disheartening
than to fail those close to you
And to thus fail yourself-- watching success depart

No goal, no ambition
No passion, no itchin'
I know not who I am, to I
to others' outside my mind's eye
No longer a longing.

A world outside
One separate in

If they do  not care

why should I