the authors make themselves welcome in my bedroom to console my aching heart.
I'm down with the flu stuffed up with my feelings for you.
It's better out than in when you spit it out,
have you ever watched a 5 month old baby sleep, then something gets caught in their nose, that soft face turns pink and wrinkled like a pug, the baby holds a breath, about to cry,
that was me last night,
but then the baby's countenance is as peaceful as a cloud
and once you get it out that awkward feeling of release as the congestion subsides,
and I held onto the warm memory of you
to help me get to sleep.

Before,
Chaos reigned each day
The ground quaked with the weight
Of every fresh pursuit
Such debt I've yet to pay
For years of inane deeds
I explored man to excess
Until all thought turned towards lust
An insatiable beast that feeds
Upon its eager flesh
I craved things evil and benign
(For both I wished to feel)
Though now they are malignancies,
That no human eye could find
But just as storms will peak
And give way to idle skies
My story is now a fragment
- nothing more to seek
Though plateaus are pleasing
To walk upon at times
Extended paths exhaust the mind
Just as anything unceasing

They have watered the street,
It shines in the glare of lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies
Like a slow-moving river,
Barred with silver and black.
Cabs go down it,
One,
And then another,
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.
Tramps doze on the window-ledges,
Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks.
The city is squalid and sinister,
With the silver-barred street in the midst,
Slow-moving,
A river leading nowhere.

Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-coloured night.
She cannot light the city:
It is too bright.
It has white lamps,
And glitters coldly.

I stand in the window and watch the
moon.
She is thin and lustreless,
But I love her.
I know the moon,
And this is an alien city.

I woke up too early, when outside the sky a pearl hue and the curtains ghostly white, a dreamy mist hung over my covers, I did not want to be enslaved by the unforgiving hour of first light, but my eyes had peeked anyways, and I felt this deep burning desire to run before it consumed me.

2. It consumed me. My meager thoughts begged to perform, we couldn’t stop seeing beasts in the hunt, the moon curled up in the corner of the page, this tight feeling in my neck, my *** squeezed tight, and my stomach gurgles. I’m hungry and there’s no food and there’s no money. There’s leftover wood and paint.

3. Too ignore my hunger, I knelt down by my bed, at night where I imagine a pornstar playing with herself, so I could not fear the animal, or the ravenous beast. And I started to finish painting on the wood.

4. It’s been so long, I’m so afraid, please God, let me realize how beautiful I am and not destroy myself.

5.  I can’t imagine eating anything, there’s nothing I’d like except maybe chocolate ice cream and strawberry wafers. Only desserts could ease my protestation, while I’m still young, 23 spoonfuls of sugar for the seducing rush, and how could any one fathom submitting to its unbridled passion and understand why roses sob in pairs at the sight of plucking a rose petal by petal for vain love.

6. I paint this picture without knowing what it means, if it does mean something, could it be something, I paint this picture from my skinny life form to avoid slumber and exile hunger. I am nothing but a waitress in a swamp city.

the morning cries of birds awakening
where they stood nothing to say all the dark hours
say we crossed the midnight sea cowering in ink wells
rejoicing bravely on the red sands a danger passed
a peril unseen as birds in dead of night
I did not leave you or cover from the moon
or keep my words and all that I am in dead black
all that I am rattling in a cage straining against bars
I gave you in the darkest hour
not the world singing when it needs no song
not the world when it sees taking flight
but when you trembled I whispered in your ear
stay with me
we are our wings
or did you not hear and did another voice
teach fear by night and rancor all the day
call you out with morning birds to play
when I found the tender passion of unsafe hours
abandoned where you left it in a sunbeam on the floor