I am a writer, of both poetry and fiction, since as long as I can remember. It is simply a part of who I am, encoded within my soul, embroidering within the very fabric of my being. I am glad to share some of that, as well as read poems and that others ha 922 followers / 22.6k words
Out of the jungled zones into the blossom of the muse touched on all unhidden planes as the bitter sails are buried and the surrender of the muse breathes with aliveness and the pale hues startles in flames such love from the past whispers arose from the humble seeds of glow there is no more holding on cliffs uncertain on the rocks waiting watering the winds of love How so I couldn’t hear you? awakened within my being shaking with unknown spasms How so I couldn’t feel you? as your songs enlivened rising behind my fainted shadows
In love with existence and how it makes me feel. Suddenly, as time was running out my unseen muse brightened and my soul was restored.
The river in me exists. Its outflow of pour drenches the gullies makes moist the sand that graces your toes I flow into your roots strengthen your capillaries pump liquid gold inside your veins loving your flaws like kintsukuroi you piece me together adorn my cracks with powdered metals, still loving them for being broken a longing quenched I want you dripping down my chin, my thighs when you rush through me just like that, the soothing aqua tempest I have always wished for
kintsukuroi-(“golden mend”) is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery using lacquer resin laced with gold or silver. As well as a nifty form of repair, kintsukuroi has a deeper philosophical significance. An embracing of the flawed or imperfect. Rebirth.
just when the dust settles round my **** and the thud of despair hits bottom just as I flail and swim in this blood-caked, soulless earth soup of the lost abyss of unbirth you plunge my wilderness charred with remains from hellfire and we breathe halos our bones lighted sticks, colors rising in angel arcs
Your rib cage is open for my tremulous offering as my lips imprint a crimson O upon the earthquake of your chest I am still down with the earthworms wrist **** sopped by soil arteries, bashed split to the root by verbal hurts in a sliding psyche of oil
yet here you are suturing wounds with whiplash kisses saltlick moans in my throat You wrap me in gauze through the imprint of your eyes turn my cuts into fresh brook gaze upon my deepest darkness like goddess worship shrine
my **** is a funnel for your whipped light sacrifice ****** prayer skinned to the core all layers exposed your lips slick with the drip of my bliss, deep juice of freshly-caught jungle hum all is bared we stop at nothing paint our tongues with tears adorn the face of death with ripe guava and, as you scream my name into a blown glass whisper my soft, tender fruit falls into the heat of your palm