I see my heart. It is an open vessel of adventure, romance, and new life.
I see my limbs. They are a creamy skeleton of walking, breathing life.
I see my kitchen. It is a white-hot inferno that wafts the rising wheat.

I see a rose. It has vicious crimson claws that glide across broken glass.
I see words. It is a haven from the outside world that shields one from day.
I see a field. It is the towering arms of life that sway with the wind.

I see a dream world. It is issuing steam from the depths of its bubbly cave.
I see a cloud. It is a glistening reflection of the sun’s rays that blankets the shore.
I see water. It is a magnificently sleek orb that radiates swirling opaque hues.
I see Earth. It is a hollow mirror, encapsulating the essence of life

In the back of my mind there remains a dock,
A dock that rests on the shimmering surface of a lake.
In the back of my mind, beneath the grime and dust of a memory of stolen nights,
I can feel the wood beneath me and the glistening of the stars that shine for only us.
When I am there, and I am with you again, we have the freedom of the night.
We rest upon a canvas of other’s dreams. We can dance upon the promise of tonight,
And disappear into the rushing of the water against the shore.
The gently flowing water and the midnight sky blanket us in their shadows,
Wrapping us in an onyx of whispers and delight.
Being here, and being with you, we are free in the promise of tonight.

Eyes that look upon the iridescent,
Mine eyes that rush with his lunar flowing.
I look upon them in astonishment
Children of mine, the spawn of adornment.
I look upon my earth and my children in sorrow,
Shielding the eyes from the pain until to’morrow.
She is Gaia and she is me.
Queen of earth and mother of all cosmos:

She awoke in the mist beside a lake.
Her hair like honey, sweet angel of no mistake.
Dear Gaia arose, with her skin azure and ashen,
She pranced through the obscure, whose silence would not break.
But oh! What harmonic melodies arose
With each touch of thy maiden’s immaculate toes.
A ghostly goddess erupted the stillness of the night,
Her silhouette so thin, her breast so broad.
Come hither, Uranus, with your starry sky so flawed.
Earth and sea. Sky and stars. Gaia’s union of love so filled with delight.
From hence she etched her pristine beauty into his ore.
And her children withdrew, sweet Gaia of Earth retired to her shore.

She now will forever sleep, she now will forever lay;
Ghostly faces turn towards her in dread.
The sister’s hands held tightly as they pray,
Glowing girl, little woman, come to bed.
They all are dressed-sea of death- they dress in black,
Her mortals have silent eyes, silent tears.
A halo of hands bound, forever one lack;
Like a warm summer’s sun that disappears.
A hissing wreath sweetly dressed like flowers
Mocks the mourners as they remain and ache,
Their rapacious father wastes the hours
Of the dear moments. But today hearts break.
Though forever apart, forever one;
While day is done, there still remains the sun.

I
Yearning
If it is yearning-
I suppose I can call it yearning for now-
(maybe it is wishful thinking or hopeless hoping,)
Is not romantic or a recipe for timeless love.
Yearning has only shaped us into crippled corpses.
Stuck inside this suffocating labyrinth that is my mind
Can inevitably turn one into their own worst nightmare.
No.
Their own worst enemy.
You yearn for her while she yearns for the girl sitting next to you. How pitiful
How despicable how truly self-destructive.
Say it again?
Oh to be stuck in the human mind where
all you can do is utterly loathe
the handcuffs of the body. Look at him
and envy what he is.
Misery- how bleak and black,
Sitting there in your own putrid thoughts.

II
In retrospect, thinking is limiting.
Just like a flower blossoms upon planting, it eventually becomes much too good for itself.
Is that existence?
Bursting with energy
Positively overflowing, overwhelming
Thoughts.
Existential-philosophical.
I proclaim a mindless life,
Is that peculiar?
Let us hide
under a rock. Let us
float from cosmic hue to supreme experience.
Forget the terror of the massiveness of life.
Let us just be in our souls and

III
In heaven all is perhaps pristine.
Here, you squeeze the life right out of me.
To be able to defy the laws of embodiment, deny
All doubt and fall through the shackles.
Break down the barriers.
Erupt through the stillness of the night
and find a rocking melody.
An unsteady beat.
Make me a nymph, a cherub, a goddess.
Mere mortals will not suffice.
I beg of thee- who am I begging?
To be iridescent, as the wings of a butterfly.
Curse the cosmos for this. For this life.
Turn me into the wind so that I may sway with the trees and
Whisper

IV
Tempting me with the possibility
Come take my hand- like the juice of a bumblebee.
Tempt me with wanting me and please do not underestimate
The power , when wanting comes. Not coming.
You proclaim your loving and wanting to the stars above,
Say it again, oh please never say it again.
This life was not meant for you wanting that:
Possess me instead of caress me.
Haunt me, do not want me.
Twirl me around until I am sick with love
Because for now I am simply sick of love.
Not what the presumed love is to be.
The euphoria that is overdue

V
Uncomfortable:
Like the lethe,
Dreary and Dull; morose and mournful
Stop. Just for a moment.
Gently sway with the swimming sea and the gnathonic monotony,
Breathe two, three, four.
Eyes wide shut, and extirpate the outside voices,
Annihilate the outside noises.
Grab a tissue, your nose is running while your eyes scream
With saturnine.
How still like the Earth stops spinning.
and then
Effete.

This one I will refuse to destroy me,
Pick me up, toss me out and leave me in the morning;
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.

Spare the delicate moment of bliss or ecstasy
When day comes, abandon hope and leave me in the mourning
This one I will refuse to destroy me.

Dawn awakens the oblivion- the disillusioned fairy
Passionate sunlight erupts the stillness of dreamless dreaming,
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.

As the fire licks at the mountainside, leaving behind its vengeful debris,
Last night ignited this hateful inferno you are afflicting
This one I will refuse to destroy me.

Thunderbolt! Durga cast down the Depraved one, while he
Creeps into the naked night like a coward: fleeing,
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.

Tangled beneath sheets and limbs of a parted sea
It was only with your blind eyes you left, haunting
This one I will refuse to destroy me,
The loneliness that echoes inside sets her free.

It hurts when you touch me like that. No, it doesn’t ache or burn or offend or leave me in a physical state of harm. It just hurts when you touch me like that.
Yeah, like that.
It doesn’t hurt when you remove your shirt and I my skirt.
It just hurts in that place where people feel that kind of euphoria. It doesn’t hurt on the outside. So for now I’m waiting for you to be done so the pain will subside.
When you touch me like that I can smell you, your sweat stings my nostrils. It drips from your naked chest onto mine.
When you sweat on me like that I want to shower. I want to throw myself flat onto those ice-cold bodies of water. You know, the ones that sting like needles and continue to ring from the inside out. The ones that pierce you all over. That kind of water.
When you touch me like that, yeah like that.
‘That no particular scandal once can touch.’
With your hands like that. When you touch my skin, my arms, my waist with your fingers.
I can see your eyes. I can feel you looking at me.
‘With eyes wide open; standing, speaking moving,’
It hurts. It hurts when you look at me like that. It hurts when I smell you. It hurts when you touch me like that. And when it hurts, when it hurts and you’re touching me and you smell from that grossly pungent sweat that drips onto me and you’re looking at my stomach and my neck and into my eyes, it hurts.
And when it hurts, I’m not here.
And when you’re thinking that our bodies and souls have made that divine, timeless, beautiful, passionate connection,
I’m not here.
And when you’re thinking those things that I can hear you thinking, it hurts.
That’s when it hurts.
And when it hurts (when you look and touch and smell and think the way you do) I’m with him and not you.
When I’m with him, it doesn’t hurt.
His hands are soft and his scent dances around me.
His scent draws me in so that I can look and touch and think those things.
When I’m with him it doesn’t hurt.
With you it hurts.
That’s when it hurts.