What a beauty, sleeping sound.
Lost in her dreams, speaking aloud.

Upon her forehead, a ****** kiss;
murdered by her charming prince.

Blood on the walls. Blood on the bed,
toes and fingers on the floor and a hole in her head.

Time stood still.
As i laid a rose upon her window sill.

I said my goodbyes, and off i went,
Done with one fairy tail, and off to the next.

Rag-doll memories tucked gently behind sunburned ears,
uncertainty flashing its knowing smirk around every corner,
with understanding growing in easy silence,
as steam rises from the midnight pavement.

d__’s fingers move slowly down my spine
tracing over each vertebrae with malicious intent,
his bluish lips curling into an empty smile.
He smells of hurricanes
and something putrid I can’t describe.

A vicious cycle is tough to break, he whispers,
in a voice that scrapes behind my eyes.
The stars aren’t out tonight, and I am afraid.

I hate nightmares.
The eyelids set the perfect backdrop
for those heinously colorful, all-encompassing
scenes of dread,
of heartbreak, anger, pain.
Only released from their iron grip
by the sound of fear escaping
from sleep-parted lips.

To feel cold sweat
beading between tired chest bones
pooling in the valleys of your clavicle.

To bolt upright,
screaming helplessly at the nightshade phantoms still lingering
in the dusty corners of your vision.

To wake up alone,
craving anyone (or anything)
that can hush your trembling body and tell you
you’re alright,
you’re alright,
you’re alright.

A black man in Florida was forced to take a knife to his genitals
And eat them.
A rope was fashioned around his neck
Thrown over a high branch
And pulled so that it would lift him into the air
After moments of strangling
The man was let down
To resume his self mutilation
With knives that split his flesh
And cattle prods that burned his skin
When they were done they lynched him
And dragged him through the streets
Sold pictures and displayed his fingers and toes
To children
To mothers
To men
They laughed and told their friends
We should choke on the words our fathers have fed us
If they mean that we should be like them

Your image
Makes love to my eyes,
Like you leapt
Into my pupils,
And you swim
Naked in my iris
And then you come up
Dry and wrap yourself
In my sclera;
Teasing my retina
Irritating my fovea
Red tendrils of my macula,
As you sit on the sill
Of the windows
To my soul,
Dangling your legs
Taking a bite out of
The apple of my eye
Piercing my cornea,
This beautiful
Haunting image
Of you searing
Straight through
My hyaloid canal;
Forever you are
Burned onto my
Optic disc,
From which
I'll rewind forever
Laughing through
The aqueous humour,
You are quite a sight...

APAD13 - 030 © okpoet

She needs just a body
A few stanzas
To fill in the gaps
Where the ribs should expand
But she has no breath
For she needs no air
To keep a heart pumping

Functioning on the smoke
From a joint
That glints in the moon light
Strewn across the lawn
In the night so clear
That she's her own New York

Everything's overdrive
Her daddy taught her how to inhale
And steal her heart away
In hopes that he could breathe again

And he stole her eyes
With the waves washing over him
The strands widening to form a pit
The pupils of New York
Is in the moon

You know the girl without a breath
For she yells the longest and the loudest
You know the girl without a breath