Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
The spring sun rises, undress
yourself from your doubt, lay bare
naked in the sun with fair
skin so the sun may caress
and warm your hands, feet, legs, and chest.
I envy the sun's gold stare,
looking on a sight so rare
as He makes the passage west.
It wasn't the plan
to bite the man
and leave his hand
in strips and strands


I wanted no part
in devouring your heart
and it wasn't smart
because your heart was ****.
the sea grabbed bodies, theirs and mine flaming foaming tendrils
ahold of the drifting timber trying to keep gripping, hang
hold high salt stripped throat shouting Unhand Me, Body-
You'll not have us tonight, but the sea made  belly sounds,
bleeding even the pilot, head slipping to the murk my blood
the envy, finally fell out inside and I sank to the floor with the timber and rope-the final moments of vision the setting horison the eye and perhaps an illusion; not-blak sails drifting steady my head vapor shroud eating the sun I fell into the lap of my love, my Mathilda- royalty to seakelp and fog looking on both irises jupiter and mars and thanking the stars furyos vixens above and she stood and she smiled not-blak sails- I admired her silver linen train but a din like desperate men shouting loosed me from my vision; they had seen the sails and all surrounding the lot tantalus's envy the pilot's hands raving Not today! Not today! They feared hotel raft a permanent lodging, jumping, frightened, killing themselves their poor salt-seasoned hearts drifting again more than them no signal observing the sails flurrying trumpets it might see us-it might, it might!
I don't have enough talent
to become a has-been
he then curled his lips to an
english grin,
took one step forward,
he took two back
and plunged headfirst
into the canyon.
What the hell
is going on upstairs,
sounds like two honeyed hams
going at it, these paper-thin walls
do nothing to mask
my disgusting habits.
Hey, are you awake we've got lives at stake,
the hound is tearing a hole-
now she's staring right at me oh god, can't you see-she's gone,
where the hell'd the dog go?
its one oclock
and i'm scared of the dark
why can't I be scared of snakes-
but I guess if its night
and I hear a hiss in the quiet,
Christ, that gives me the shakes.
Next page