Run your fingers over my chest
pick apart my shirt, thread by thread
and crush the fibers between your fingers
til you've laid my skin bare
Let your frigid breath caress my *******
and perk my ******* in parody of arousal

Then bring that silver blade you've been twirling
idly in your elegant hands,
trace its sharpened edge from my neck to my heart
Leave a stark line of red in your wake,
for it tells me that reality is here,
pinned under your gaze

You have no need for restraints, no cuffs of shining steel,
your piercing eyes and the bow of your lips
are enough to keep me perfectly still
even as you slide your blade between my ribs and twist
like a rusted key in a lock
my bones slide apart

Rivulets of red run down my pale skin,
drawing mockeries of words I can't express
between my shallow, gasping, shuddering breaths
Watch my heart beating in my open chest,
and sink your fingers in around the arteries
let my blood flow over your hand

Squeeze hard.

—That 'Oh ****' moment
right as you catch your toe
on the crack in the sidewalk—

—the ground rushing up
no matter how awesome
your impression of a windmill—

—and for some godforsaken reason
that ***** street-water puddle
is always there to 'catch' you—

—and your bag of groceries.

Twin peaks pierce the sky
air of my reality twines
around their reaching heights

Eddies of stone slip under
my breath-blown snow
and winding clouds slide
into each fold and crevice
as I search for the path to
fiery gold striations
living in the center seams

But I have to breathe
and the caverns give way
to narrow passages
that condense my breath
suffocating into stillness

You've really got me
turned around
left is right
and up is down

It's quite a sight
to see me
as I walk upon
the ceiling

Cornering rounds
instead of
rounding corners
tripping over
ill-placed dormers

It's even more
confusing when
the world halts
this dizzy spin

and reality comes
crashing down
I find myself in
a wedding gown

its corset is
much too tight
the color fair
far too light
for I'm no
****** bride

but I cannot move
to search for
the elusive exit door
instead I'll stare
enraptured
with the carpet
patterned floor.

rhythm presses against my skin
grips my hips along with your hands
our eyes lock and we dip
with music's command

as bass binds our bodies
attunes my curves and your long lines
steps mesh and we twist with
the riff of a Gibson

that licks the sweat right off our skin
scales our spines and pins our lips
together in one electric rush
voltage high and just enough

as we fling this dance
into unbound lust
and spark cadenzas
in our bodies' crush

Sometimes I feel as if I've missed the train,
even though my ticket says otherwise.

Its angular writing ought to puncture the dream,
yet I find myself staring the other way down the tracks.

So I walk down the platform until it comes to an end,
wondering what destination might have been.

I opened the car door, tossed my bag in
I was just about to slip inside when
An older man, 60 I might guess
limping down the sidewalk paused to ask:

"St. Mary's Hospital?"

My head snapped up
"What?" I asked.

"St. Mary's Hospital.  Is it this way?"

I frowned
"Yes," I replied.

"Do you know how much farther?"

"About half a mile.  Why?"

He raised his hand up, wrapped in white
red stain seeping through

My breath caught

"I've cut my finger, and I think I may need stitches."
Then he turned and limped away

"Wait," I called.  "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

He nodded, hardly turning around.

I asked again, "Are you sure?"
Should I offer him a ride?
It's only a minute out of my way.

He didn't turn or nod then, just continued on
His steps were slow, erratic, but determined
Should I offer him a ride?
I watched his back recede

Should I offer him a ride?

I could no longer hear his shuffling feet

Should I offer him a ride?

Should I offer him a ride?

I didn't.  I got in my car and left.  And cried.  
Because I wouldn't offer an old hurt man a ride.