my glow
is your bust
i know it so don't tamper with my individual
wrapping
it's not
something for you to unravel
so don't pull on my strings
it's not for you to say
it's not for you to see
i'm keeping myself,
my mind
a secret, so you see,
it can't be
for the love of me
don't let it be
such a bitter thing
and don't let me see...

you're playing with fire
by the pulse
of my wrists
you're playing with fire
by the pulse
of my neck
you're playing with your own ****
get a grip on it
pull it back in
pull the strings back up
get a grip on it
and you'll see

you can be
alone

Listen to these whispers
you're going to find a terror you haven't encountered
in your peaceable years in your masculine form

wait with baited breath on the edges
the blood will flow slowly
so don't move just yet

i'm not done

you'll cry out
and i'll smile softly to myself
as if I had any mercy
or will to unbind you

you have made yourself mine
by the bitterness you've instilled
therefore weakening your state
strengthening my blood
my taste
my bite
my dominance

so cry out
as if I have mercy
as if there is anything
that will stanch the flow of blood
at this given moment

and know
just know

i'm not done

the men, they like to jab me with their loneliness
jabbing, in-out, in-out
and they like to do so with intensity of the precursor to love
they like to instill their energies within me
as I collect in neat stacks
the long, hard rides they've had

I have been named Darkness, as a term of endearment.
I have been said to be an itch that one cannot scratch.
I go to extremes in no direction,
but do so quite intensely.
I long to ***** poisons from stranger's candies, but know that I never will.
I have obsessions and urges of a feral nature.
And I like it.
I'm a ******* good woman, and a woman good at *******.
I glow from a place you haven't explored yet, but have always longed to do so.
And you'll let me through your forcefield with ease
because you know these things already.

He arrived home
dead
with a still beating heart
He woke up
still asleep
though with sleepless eyes
the child is absent from
where this man now stands
though fragile still in his repressed memories

My fingers are powdered with vitamin C residue
as I place the smal pill on my tongue
and taste the bitter thing
with buds eager for something strong and overpowering
...too strong...
and the taste matches my mood
with tangy, heavy shock
I swallow it in hopes that it will help
with my swollen bronchial... whatever...
I finger the bottom of the bottle
for a second pill
2 left...
2 to go...
2 to overload my body with it's immune health properties
more powder on my fingers
I **** it off in a mindless manner
as only a bitter stillness has taken me over this morning
eyes still swollen
from the night of crying before
...more powder from the bottom
I need more of that bitter taste

I. The Hard

I want so badly
to be your finger puppet.
My libido tells me so,
as the bible would say
Jesus loves me.

Undenying,
raw machismo.
I'd like to wear that pretty noose
you hold in your daring hands
around my tender neck
in a string of fresh-water pearl
vibrating warmth on my skin.


II. The Soft

(And crass as I am,
you make me feel bold.
Brass as I am
you make me feel gold.
The *** that I am
you say I'm a sweet one, at least,
that you'd hold.)