You're the kind of girl mum should have warned me about
the kind that creeps slowly under skin
the kind that trips fuses in unsuspecting hearts
just by walking past with your warrior stride.
The kind of girl that takes you to the back of a gig
and drowns out the noise with her eyes
as kisses end with a bitten lip and a come get it half smile.
Your face is a lie of innocence
it hides a wildfire spirit
of which Daddy would never approve
his little girl, now a pastime of pleasure,
honoured saintess of the tease
masterfully turning screws
with nimble fingers
before laughing at desire.
Expert level players
fight pointless duels in your name
placing bids to win moments
eyeing the neck of the bottle you swig
while gageing the circumference of your rosy mouth.
I watch them rise at your stare
blood and hope rushing as one
ridiculous in their optimistic dash
to no release.
You're the kind of girl mum should have warned me about
the kind that fashions hope from empty wanting
the kind that views hearts with disdain
the kind I'll fall in love with
again and again.

Should I be above you taking all that I want
eyes on yours with a teasing half smile
Or maybe beneath you all mild and submissive
the ******, the angel, the prize.

Or maybe a struggle, not much, just a little
to fuel up our primal desire
a little restriction if done with conviction
could be just the thing you require.

Or would you be pleased with me on my knees
as my hips push you further inside
you can tug on my hair, try a spank if you dare
name your poison and I will provide

She sings, mostly at night, pouring words from her coveted heart
tapestries rich with regret and carnal groans, bring heat and quench thirst
with tears.
She sings, do you hear her melody
as it reaches in to chill your soul?
I am obsessed with her fluid form
as she runs through our midst
wearing her path through life's granite sidings.
She is everything and nothing to all. She is both the glory of sunrise and the fear within darkness. A riddle within the enigma of an existence mourned. I celebrate the death of each lover that has serenaded without honour at her broken threshold, overjoyed by the lack of harmony as they flounder within her precious stare.

I was caught in a moment,
haunted for a lifetime
by eyes that knew no sorrow
and a smile that had never broken it's bow.

We spun webs of wishes to call home
and loved as the moon sang and the stars danced
above the wilderness of our affections.

Slow breezes kissed the youth of our skin
as passing time receded into shadow
mourning the loss of it's need.

All tomorrows became ours
within a haze of vinyl crackles and long silent minstrels,
our initials carved forever upon our naive hearts
though the writing on the wall said too young.

Tomorrows still exist within this realm of empty hands,
carved art, now faded and scarred still beats
with the memory of captured breath and teenage wonder
bought to life in sometime dreams
forged by the moon and her lonely lullaby.

Home again
the post surgery high long gone
anaesthetic only numbs so much
spending days just sitting,
stagnating with your photo's
and scarlet ringleted dreams
of friendships saved by other methods.
Many coloured sprinkles of poison
line my dresser in precise rows
I sit as the clock watches me watch it,
no thunder running through the halls seems strange but oddly comforting in it's absence.
This constant itch in plaster binding
could drive me to drink, if I could reach the tinkling cabinet of liquid safety but instead you and ink become my drug of choice, one to cause the pain, the other to move it on, a cycle known to all who have travelled with their hearts firmly stitched to their muddy sleeve.

Monday morning vultures at your feet
Carelessly as you sleep
Sentimental weeping not without a blind headache
I imagine that you'd run away

I was carried to a burning landscape by the arms of trees
I dug my hands into the soil and pulled out the spine of the terrain
I love with the curiosity of acidic rain
And the fire that burns inside burns through the smother of pain

Floating onto too much too soon, to be without an impending doom,
and to shame my feelings to a newly familiar tune,
brings what was happiness
and transforms it into sitting alone in a dark room
muttering, "I was happy, I was carried into a heart by the arms of trees."

I thunder down corridors
the wind in my hair
days spent staring at the ceiling
has made me a little crazy
So tonight I roll with my brother
taking corners sideways
howling with laughter
as we make our bid for freedom
and the sweet night air.