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481 · Dec 2010
Untitled
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
i don't like love i love like i like
like splitting pink fondness    li;k
    e            spun and groaning fabric of repugnant feathers
i love like ***** nails biting particularly your effortless muscles
       your tingling personage
your sweat manacled arbitrary husk
                                                                    your heaving unconscious love
like pale questions
                                  i'm quibbling
with my lips bursting graciously slippery verbs
        all over the concave majesty of your cream y elated blood
like love; like i like
              like i like to love
like ilike2Lov3yOu

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    








                                                                                                                                 !
481 · May 2014
Untitled
PK Wakefield May 2014
some hot ugly between nothing
and nothing goes life
its arms perspiring longways
and shortways
its blab
and
meter

smoking with a short
jeer between its legs
hurt in the dark grass of Spring
is all around it(and

Something is large

and

Something is small

inside it
there are many insides
)and there is a wet
girl around a dry glass
long fingers apart the nape
of its sloping droop
the earth comes undone

and there is a girl
and there is a hot blab
and there is the great red reeling rictus

of a far drop from a near pier(

   )it can see and can you see

The how longshort of the hot blab ugly
between the red reeling jeer of the some
ugly life there is a goes
481 · May 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield May 2012
.                                                     I
                                                     at
                                                    The
                                                   sharpest
                                                  new
                                                     clean
                                                 blade
                                                of
                                                    dawn
                                               which performs
                                              the colour
                                             of life
                                                        in
                                           A curving sheet
                                          of condensed
                                         flowers
                                                      am lifted
                                        impractically
                                       petal
                                      upon petal
                                                to
                                    the breathless coronet
                                                     of
                                  unspeakable
                                 love
481 · Feb 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
in your bright house is whiteness
in your pert immaculate body
is
        stately ivory wings

who tread the air to heaven
(upon whose breath
trembles the serious
anger of your blonde
hair)with which is days drunken
and marvelous with thy
prim bulbous laughter
480 · Apr 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
dawn immortal dying invulnerabley fragile dawn
that comes an immense fragrant bloom foisted
spontaneously mountains briefly with flowers over
a slow lake glassed in certain unmoving tranquil
colours
479 · Jan 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
it breaks
(just so
like a skinned knee
gently lapping
cool
       s
          t
                ing
             i
               n
         g
laden BreaTHS                                                 ,                                                  )
478 · Nov 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2013
ap
oem
w
assu
mm(h)
e
rh
er
wa
sa
and
itwa
sjust
g
re
een
(h
erg
­ra
ss)          when it
s
pilt
that tenderest first hurting
o
fl
o
ve
478 · Mar 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Mar 2013
that first which out of nothing comes
warmly steep and comely dripping
in easily breaking and confused hands
(but though which are still are aching
needed to have on lipskinand) LOVE

                                                           ­         

                                                               ­                    is dear I


                                                             ­                           Have some i

                                                              ­  
                                                              ­                i have some



                                                         ­                                 dear of my




                                                          ­                    love in hands




                                                       ­                                       though which are



                                                          ­                   breaking easily





                                                     ­                                                   still needed





                                                     ­                                and aching






                                                    ­                                                           dear





                                                       ­                               too of mine






                                                      ­                                                  "please"





 ­                                                                 ­                     dear





          

                                           ­                                                             have­some
478 · Apr 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Apr 2011
when i,m moving i don't like to make any sort of sound
any sort of short sturdy long fragile careless sounds
and i like to go around
and i don't
and i don't
478 · Aug 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Aug 2011
dreaming you, have you been sleeping when you've been dreaming?
in nooks quietly smeared cooly draped in shadows mostly
from hidden the arduous sun you lovely dreaming you
(crawling from your softness breathing does
small lunges of your chest
and your risenfalling *******)
i just took a shower and your open laying frame lays in coiling sinuous ruffles
and i trundling under the sheets and about your smallness close and we, just
477 · Sep 2011
when you come
PK Wakefield Sep 2011
when you come:

                                           (youare1elatedquiver
                                                                                )
rushing through flesh
breath sharply and
,mouth usually
arrives to an IMMENSE electric
contracting spinal erectors        (and i,m down
                                                        ,coddling sternly
                                                        ,your wetly savage
                                                         by tongue mostly
                                                         creeping fastly
                                                         in your lips nestled
                                                         jolting delicate pearl
                                                                      a
                                                                 n       d
                                                         begin, from 'neath U  ,
                                                         your ecstatic writhing thing
477 · Aug 2016
Untitled
PK Wakefield Aug 2016
loving tried sorrily a girl
to make out
of too much whiskey
something which

loves it too.
476 · Feb 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
holland was a pretty colour
wriggling in my veins
her languid golden
worms, freshly
elegant
dirt
475 · May 2010
i see
PK Wakefield May 2010
i see i
seeing i
seeing me
my sight sees my me
being me sighting in on i

huh
sure
what

_rapture(
474 · Sep 2012
blue forget, don't sky
PK Wakefield Sep 2012
blue forget, don't sky


                     there is from come stars
                                     you

they shook

                                they faltered

                                                             they quavered

and from fell they

                                        your eyes


and (more) i dare (less)
flowers: beautifuler

                                     none
                                     nary
                                     a single is

your mile is an ocean
easy it feels like pursed
flagrant heaving

(the body

    the smell

           the smell of body

           )of fresh linen

            that coils bunches
            inventing mountains
            of sturdy breath
            collide and mix into
            1 velvet sigh
            (which suddenly incredible
             madness; inch by inch;
             increase upon increase
             piles into bursting)


                                                     ;and even petals
                                                     are not so soft as
474 · May 2010
like broken hearts
PK Wakefield May 2010
like broken hearts

aching saw dust

there is no glue
473 · Oct 2011
sun)
PK Wakefield Oct 2011
sun)

                 y
                         o
                                        
                                      u rising fallen set
                                          on the crust of
                                          cherry dirt
                                          and charge
                                          over mountains
                                          some splinters
                                          of your failing
                                          face)
                                                                       each finer than
                                                                    ,  duller  ,      last
                                                                       arrives a fuller
                                                                       needle in through
                                                                       cool glass(mywindo)w
                                                                       and finals on toes
                                                                                                                     just sticking into your grave
473 · Nov 2015
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2015
each new kissing makes two new fists of brutal night alive and hurrying
with the hustle bustle of dying brains wistfully drunk and full of nothing
but how many lurid drips of some dumb ******* **** or if she'll swallow
later tonight when you're alone and her hair makes a mess of the starlight
quickly between the **** ******* of night and you're trying to sleep
but outside it's a city
and the sun is almost.
473 · Jul 2010
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
i(it seems)am like your skin. or also i like it. the way
y
  o
     u wear it. clever sugar hills giggle richly. in my mouth
soft candy. melting exactly on my tongue. and ravage
my pink. daft heart petals split your cotton wrapper,
      a        
                                                                                               n
                                                                                                  d
grace your tubercles in my hands with fingers splayed about
your quakes. cupping your electric pond blossom shudder queen.
  dance your sighs in the tremendous cavern of my lips; slay apprehensions
                              filigree scriptured on my soul.

you are my only; and beyond all others; are the sun; you; perfect; and horrible; yet; a dream; i would never wake
473 · Jan 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2012
so just sitting in my room softly light, the marvelous comely feeling of your warmer fingers elates me sitting in a narrow beam breaking beam by tree's boughs breaking beam in my silent room you fracture and dance dappling your warming narrow comely face
473 · Nov 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
)it all hangs in a rough instant

     between your mother's hips

        a nice rectangle of pine

             and a long night

                                           (Life
473 · May 2015
Untitled
PK Wakefield May 2015
sleep this most and Spring to lie
with tired tress and awkward thigh
apart that bit where winter slept
but now where stock and petals kept

a garden small and fragile sleeps
a'tween the hull and meadows deep
tha' bumbles bri' wi' nettled buzz
an' blooms with light an' shocks o' fuzz

a little rill there constant speaks
of need to want for constant peaks
(as like the bee that tends to pistil
the water feels to drink of thistle)

and feel the full when sharply stuck
by root and stem of urgent pluck
473 · May 2010
let me
PK Wakefield May 2010
l
et-me
unsheathe thisss(my SELF)
and s  h   o   w
you the nicks in
its
scripture
472 · Nov 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2013
ni
(ght b
ur
s
t cackling)a

w(h)iTch 'er h
e
           mw
a
       s

sofast

itw
a                     s!green


OHMY and

it
w        a                      s



t(i(gHt
472 · Jul 2012
sour girls seem like
PK Wakefield Jul 2012
sour girls seem like corners drawn
deeply into briefly unsmiling faces
livid with rouge, mascara, and
                                                         eyes

cut of freezing, ice and, ivy (who like
sour girls uncurl)
                                  gently in the palm

of Summer's neat soft plush and hand
not Summer's but my hand, which
draws briefly unsmiling into livid with
my lips, rouge and mascara, faces
472 · Jun 2014
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
.














                                            




­







                                              SO.me um sum *******

                                                uff ruff ******* so
                                                polished; leashed
                                                IN

     ­                                                      your
                                               spread your *******
                                               mouth
                                               let's (wider)
                                               hard i'm
                                               going
                                                         to

                                               so those
                                               fukin
                                               take em off
                                               satin white
                                               little littles
                                               ,
                                               ****(do you like it when

                                                i "yes
                                                ))))        ­       please

                                                please


­                                                 "hurt me
                                                  into apart teeth .   teeth
                                                  fingers inside

                                                  inside tongue
                                                  tonguing­ little
                                                  rrufff stubble

                                                  neck neck:

                                                  throat.
­
                                                  Gag.
472 · Apr 2010
lacking
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
be more in your lacking
than in your pro

-fusion

for all blooms

wither thus
472 · Nov 2010
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
only are i ever
        like
death(who is my long lady
who,s bone straight
skinny fat
against my nerves
her vertebrae
tingle pearl white
thickly straining   ( stabbing!exile
of beat bearing          supple vermilion
lakes                            salty
littered        carnage?and
i grip the narrow blades of her hips
and fornicate with
dusty marrow sin; and dancing
my tongue
in her barren maw
the hard palate of evergrinning stark
exposed.or i'm in her bed
waiting to caress her ribs
pleated essence

                          DeaD: she,s is my lady
                                       m ylo ve r
                                         eternal
                                                         in wriggly sockets
                                              worm filled flaccid pockets
                                                  of"
471 · Mar 2014
Untitled
PK Wakefield Mar 2014
sunlight
where
your
fatal chord
of music
strains
the mute
scepter
of night
bleeds
crimsonly
a thin note
of thigh
parting
light(


                      your
             mouth
                       which
                 ekil
                      is
                         a
               turned
                         upon
                   medallion
                 ofvery
          Spring.Agape

                     T
                     o
receive

                              the


thick

                  brutal


          ***


                     of poppies

      )
470 · Mar 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Mar 2013
"Do it." She said.
470 · Dec 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Dec 2012
god's spades little digging children 'tween the hips o' girls
digging deeply (al itt le finger) lays a thousand times; seeds


                                   (niggles the dry packed loosing firm)

a root extending from

                                             into

                                                           a rose becomes
                                                                     a thorn
                                                                          pricking
                                                                        

waists (shoots and leaves
              shoots and leaves
              shoots and leaves

                                              )gardens calls 'em boys
                                                calls 'em boys when
                                                (digging spades release)
                                                a seeds to spill girls 'tween hips 'o
470 · Feb 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
are we not
                                godS?
you are the root
       of my flesh
                                  i'll make in your blood my blood
(he'll crop the land
      with eager perspicuous grating
)
                and mark it with his hands                     he who is the seed of my strenuous metting  
                                                                            of yours and i's
                                             of ours
                                                             he's
                                    a
469 · Jul 2014
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
at how does gleam the cherry **** of your cylindric pertness–lips–i beco
    me me in two folds of self on each one pressed the drooping brand of y
       our hands stings to cooly touch with the unhinging of cottoned hurt
           ing in when the sun suddenly of gradual imperceptible dying revo
              lves on the apex of youth its own immortal youth; such dreams a
                 s magic become the ethereal toyness of your wrists that fleetly
                    stagger of whiteness with substance wholly girl with two
                       ******* wine for a mouth and darkness for hair even
                          the night is jealous at their fibers and remarks with
                             disturbed violence a shower of stars to mark
                                its brunt, its curling of tight fingers into
                                  fists of foisted heating)
                                              (there
   ­                                         such
                   ­                     brightness
                                 ­      is a circle within
                                      A circle of
                                     tingling bruteness
                                     you have liked me
                                       to be between your
                                         smart ****** of cherry
                                            pertness–
    ­                                                LIPS
469 · Sep 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Sep 2011
like behind mountains
summer slowly Falls
one colour of its face
runs with original
gorgeous irrelevant
and too becomes
cooler slowly ( each new whim of cheeks brinded
                           crisply utters leaves about the rust
                           failing light which gathers 'bout
                           the nape of columns against the
                           moon they grumble with the fresh
                           dithering stammers of Autumn, "you
                           little death i think you look so much
                           better in your cadaver" to which i
                           climb the air to stars a filigree of
                           nubile clinging darkness
468 · Jan 2015
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2015
elle n'est pas one hell
of an elle in does
brightly chafe with
dower stocking removal
hastily into thigh as thigh
does improbably hairless
Glide into petite grande
pink pretty pinched heaping
of dryless ****** helping
of **** help needing

A quick drizzle of angles that
unsuddenly with immortal pairing
bare the rude stem of Spring–

which cannot unbarley but to shreak
the tiniest whisper of "please into my
house enter the deepest blooming
of red red red steam   "

being i just could only
that at
the naked perfume
of her
seeping incessantly laughter
but to boom as wide and cloyingly
drunk with open health

as God had said
making the world
by one word: she

said not one word
(making my world)
but two,

               "**** me"
468 · Sep 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Sep 2012
breath: there is nothing like you
a flower, the river next to it, a
strain of summer and



                                                      breath
­












                                                    ­                                     there
































       is






























































­
                                                                ­                                                                 ­      nothing
468 · May 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield May 2013
lips sit
lips on lips
sit lips
that lips split
by split lips

lick X lick

to where a bead sits
between lips
by lips split

lick X lick
467 · Mar 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Mar 2013
.































                                ­                                          *** UGLY


               your cheeks are rosy splotched itchy with a bit of seeming lovely "please put
               your fingers inside me"

                                                          ivy and flat

                                                         green long  
                                                         snare shining
      
                                                         and thickly lush


               (you "ooh" is "baby, please" my fingers are "ah" while your tongue is "don't stop)"

                and, baby, you smile like you want me to hurt you like you want me to hurt you

               like hurting is pretty bleed a little, baby, and **** sticky with your thighs and sweety

               you look so nice when i'm wearing you between the sound of a train outside my

               bed shakes you're sleeping and i lean over you and kiss your shoulder              .
467 · Jun 2014
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
i can remember your mouth across from me i was late it was 11:17 i said i was sorry you said your mouth was across from in a mexican restaurant 2 years later your mouth was in my mouth in Eugene in Eugene it was very hot in the middle of the summer the van was broken down and i loved you so much there wasn't anything to do but climb into each other's mouth the thick heatness of sweating palms and you are sitting across from me in a mexican restaurant your eyes your mouth your hair was short 1 year later i thought you should cut it shorter 1 year later in a hot pocket of some thick freakness your hands mouth eyes spit and got open so wide i climbed into your whole body was so beautiful tasting better and fighting all night than death i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry


(i loved you)
467 · Oct 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2011
u c now? Grass is me. each glowing blade of it are my limbs R grass
grunting up to skyward professing such greeness and full of vital
light,
         it is so supple and it by lakes is me
         and by napes of rivers it is me on end
         it is my hair and it's electric in me
         singing some song majestic
         yet so quietly
i know it as i would know a lover(if i ever trod on my lover
who was softly cushioning each fall of my wiggling toes
with their strong little body)and it knows me because it
is me, i am the grass and i grow with the wind on me
and it is my friend(for the wind knows best the grass
(save for maybe the dirt(who is my wife(for she takes
my root deep into her and bears my seeds to the air))))
466 · Apr 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
hand which by is felt the stem
is set crimson at thorned *****
red so like the rose suddenly at
lips gleaming supping feverishly
at pains sorest pleasure(the palm
who riven draws even deeper the
pointed inch of agony to bone fine
white as a silk worm skin) like a
lily stupid with *** the comparable
hurt of which a hand that likes to
bleed
466 · Feb 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
and my body knows
when it's with yours
a pleasure more
and pain less

it knows just how
delightfully draws
the better curves
of your sting heavy
*******

how is immaculate the
darling prism of thy
stomach               and
how pleasantly scrunches
it up in ecstatic pink
rimmed diminutive folds

and how the taste of
your sweat is like
honey more than
honey even is
466 · May 2010
but i
PK Wakefield May 2010
this moment
struck a hideous pose
but i could not
turn my self
from its
becoming
465 · Dec 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
let's say tomorrow we'll meet more usually than yesterday we didn't know each other
but today let's kiss and **** with our hearts pressed bleeding against our ribs let's drink
the big enormity of our conjoined figures wracked and bobbing let's say tomorrow we'll
meet and we'll get coffee and we'll talk about nothing and we'll just think our hands
in the twain of each others thighs and we'll say let's go catch a movie but we'll both
know that's not what we want so let's just skip saying and use those practiced oral tools
excellently with the others own; let's bump them and giggle
465 · Feb 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2013
fast;

   the hyper
          critical
            athletic

rushing of perfectness

                    stretched


                    tightly


       smoking
         from
           between
              neon thighs
                        hips
                        waiting

           glow barely
                     skinny
                     painful
                     rose
                     bud

for ******* too long
                     makes HuRTIng
                     sound
                     where your
                     mouth
                                      suddenly

                          crumbles



                      into




                                        spit
464 · Oct 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2012
the said girl most pain from deliberate comely lips
and there was almostsummer light minutely sprawled
in precisely slats of dark then undark (a how many
i can't recall, but) in just under wear(covers) she
two legs skinnyawkward eyes than greener forests
effused some small wetness

                                                         some little fragile
                                                         some frail shining
                                                         (and my coat scratched
                                                          my neck
                                                          was wool
                                                          and                                  )

                                                          whipped at my thigh
                                                          through suddenly door
                                                          swung shut escaping
                                                          almost its white vice
463 · Apr 2010
when me
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
when me
and this

moment
reach(singularity)my
heart will
sing
with
joy
463 · Apr 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
there was a cat in Spring fuzz tangling
morning pallid
'tween paw
and whisker
                               there
                                                 was 2 girls

talking their
small sharp
                                                 voices

blundering
                                                 in sleepier

Spring morning
fuzz
                                        caught

                                                      'tween
                                                       tail
                                                       and claw
                                                       whose name was "bjorn"
463 · Nov 2011
America you
PK Wakefield Nov 2011
America you
you are mine
my place
my stuff
                            
                            you are where i belong
                            in your belly and your
                            fire between us is a devil
                            a ***** and saint
                            you're america you are
                            me, we are a thing
                            greasy and clean
                                                                                   grass and leaves
                                                                                   and plumes o' glowing
                                                                                   smoke in the fair
                                                                                   and the smooth
                                                                                   enchanting lips
                                                                                   of night(you've got
                                                                                   her dirt under your
                                                                                   nails you've got
                                                                                   pretty caked deep
                                                                                   under your nails
                                                                                   )you're faces lines
                                                                                   of them cheek2cheek
                                                                                   pressed and biting
                                                                                   loving and *******
                                                                                   you're america
                                                                                                                   (and that's why i love you)
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
fall i into perhaps september

              maybe autumn

                                        might

arrive in hot flowers from
the summer unclosed windows
inviting crisply

                              the wind

into a general elegance
ruffling the attenuating
hour of heatish bruting
summer

                        shall collapse

into a million colours that,
etched in trees, shall say

                 to us dying:

                     is also beautiful
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