I am weak, petty, small.
I am the torturer of all.
My tendrils close around your neck.
I kick your feet out,
And you fall.

I strike you through as you descend.
I twist your mind.
Your spirit bends.
Actions inflict pain.
Words lack respect.
I pull back to strike you through again.

I exhaust your mind, tear your soul, leaving not a nerve to rend.
Absently abusive, and stretched.
Twisted in violence, bent.

I create pain implicitly, just as I expect.
And I inflict the torture that I never, ever meant.

Let Me inflict the torture that I never, ever meant.

How can it be that a single caress
Is enough to flood my banks?
Before your glorious being
I get down on my knees,
Open wide,
And offer thanks.

And when you become
Overwhelmed by my gratitude,
And when a thirst begins to bother.
I’ll lead you to where
You might find a drink,
And nourish you on my water.

And from your warmth and suckle
A burning, squeezing hunger
Between my thighs.
I grip your hair,
And try to hold your stare,
And I beg for your flesh inside.

I exhale as though air
Were ripped from my lungs.
I inhale in much the same way.
I feed on your strength,
I breathe in your love.
I can face another day.

I feel your moaning purr,
And your lapping tongue,
And the way you **** and caress.
I beg again for what
I know I must have,

For what mercy I know will come next…

Driven by red
riding hood,
wheels of eternity run
hot and cold
along the tracks
in her arm.

Around the bend
there are jigsaw
pieces of a puzzle,
scattered as destinations
once towns and villages,
now fodder for
the migrant beginner.

According to fable,
there's a wolf at the door,
home is no longer
a worthwhile rendezvous,
but a trap of origin.

Misery is a train ride,
a stray fantasy,
lingering in the wilderness
of her fractured mind.

She sells her gold bracelets,
for she needs
the dark coal,
she seeks
its deep freeze.

She can then
be many things
along the journey,
just never
a connection,
never a permanent signal.

He made it clear
that he intends to
set down roots
in a place that
is barely enough
for one,
let alone two.
I noticed he avoided words
like “we” when talking
about the future
and I realized that I
still don’t fit in.

born in the artic snow
she chromed
her heart
in steel

flames could
not
touch that heart

always a half a step ahead
sure
a few stumbles
but never a fall

and moonlight is just
a heartache in disquise

till one day
leaning out a car window
a scar upon his cheek
and the luck of the draw

was the jack of hearts

and the queen of diamonds
had
never met
anyone
quite like

the jack

of hearts,

black-haired blue-eyed
her beauty inspired
stupid men
to commit foolish acts

and as he smiled
the queen of diamonds
thought she had

the jack of hearts,

blue sky shimmering
in her eyes

jack became
the brightness
of her day

and the jack of hearts
saw a flame
flickering in her eyes
that he had never seen
in any women's eyes
before ...
                
               act. 2

... a strange destiny
was unraveling
and one long poker hand
was over
and the snowflakes came
down like ashes
under the street light

and then
the jack of hearts
walked away

a pale spirit fleeing
a graveyard
into the wall of night

and the queen of diamonds
cried

the sea into sky

with eyes
like twilight
waiting

to eat away the day

she’s not in broken pieces.
she’s whole.
like she’s never had to tape herself back together just to get through a day.
her stomach is flat,
but all that’s flat about me
is my humor.
when i try to be enough,
and still fall short.

she’s hilarious.
she knows what to say, always.
how to make people laugh,
how to make him feel heard,
how to end a fight
with a kiss or a joke.
me?
i freeze.
i shut down.
i say the wrong thing,
or nothing at all.

she can argue with him
and still make him feel loved.
i argue and feel like
i’ve already lost.
she knows how to be fire and warmth.
i’m just scared of being
too much heat,
or not enough.

she can fill his bed
like it’s made for her.
like she belongs there.
i flinch at the thought,
afraid my body isn’t
something that could hold comfort.
she fits into all the places
i don’t.

he rests his head on her shoulder,
like it’s the only place peace lives.
with me,
he only watches from a distance,
like i’m something delicate he can break,
or something heavy
he’s too tired to carry.
i am.

she is everything i’m not.
she is confidence,
and comfort,
and beauty,
and laughter.
she is ease.
and i?
i’m just a pause between heartbeats.
i’m just trying to be worth
the space i take up.
she is everything.
and i…
i don’t know what i am.