I was asleep when you came in.
Wakening to the intoxicating tequila that drizzles from your mouth,
You've already managed to start the discussion
Combing you’re hands, lips and tongue to orchestrate
A stroke of genius in full consequence,
You now have my attention..

But you’re not alone,       
Putting on my glasses
I see you picked once again
Navigating takes four hands ya know.

Now choose:
A spin-cycle or tune up,
temporary vision, lost again.
Each of you raves,
You both used to dance.
Looking at each other,
synchronizing the helm.

Yearning for violence you scratch the flesh
That harbors you’re enthusiasm.
Backbiting lust and forceful appetite,
This is what happens when you
*Wake the Wolf.

I was tired but still made it
Took a shot to be festive,
then another to loosen the noose.
We danced for a bit but I was still stiff.
Jameson, on the rocks—my substance of choice.
Found you in the back,
Finished that ****** joint you rolled.
We laughed a bit and then you bit me.
I pulled you close but then you ran.
Kicked me in the shin,
Flicked me off as you turned the corner.
Love hurts they said.
*Literally…

I once felt love,
True love in detail
The kind that people act out,
Pretend/believe/desire/crave/hope to be in.
She would wait for me,
Legs open, mouth dripping.
Infatuated by my scent,
Moist to my touch.
We were divine in movement,
Excelling in performance.
A state of euphoria found only in Eden.

Now she’s with another—simple as that.

She walks fast and breaths slow,
A fiddle player missing her index
She runs now, she was always running..

A side of a truth—her only ally

Her ***** were burnt blue
with the Greek fire that tingles further with saliva.
But not hers they said, for she was stained
****** to purification through pain.

Her pain was sheer existence.
Every breath hurting more and hurting less
Continual life leading to death.
She is the morality of lust,
the end of a beginning..

Its designed to deliver,
engineered to inspire.
Being powered by the energy of a coiled spring
and kept in motion by a complex
self-winding system,
relying on the natural movements of one's self.
It's rubbing elbows with rebels and royalty.
Introducing *** to Cola,
and creating a bathtub diver,
a daytime sleeper,
an organized mess.
Seems my shadow has kept busy.
It's my wild walkman,
my *electric pickle.