It is only a piece of fruit.
Take its fuzz in your hand
and make a vertical slice.
Seek that rift with your
hot and eager mouth.
Engulf it. Probe it gently
with your tongue and enter it
like a lover. **** hard and
take its sweet juices into
your mouth and enjoy them
dripping down over your chin,
sensuous, sticky moisture.
Lap at it until it is empty
and you are exhausted, spent,
fluidly full and fulfilled
with its satisfying succus.
After all, it is only a peach.

  ~mce

As night captured arctic space
Silence fill the air
Bestow enormous still

I am unable, yonder beggar cries,
To stand, or move; if he say true, he lies.

Oh, how strange the day
That casts a shadow on my grave
That I have dug in wickedness
Through the flesh I have praised

I've found the woe in all of this
Yet in darkness I bathe my bones
While I chain my neck to sins
I stubbornly refuse to turn against

Like a sweet apple from a tree
I lust for the succulent taste
Of a fleeting happiness of addiction
That grasps my veins like ******

I've bonded myself to all the lies
That I  have whispered to my soul
Each night as I stared into the stars
And drifted to the hell inside my mind

But in this place I found an angel
That defended the death I claimed
And I, like the vulnerable sheep
Drank the words of all she said

Like a glutinous fool I was quenched
Until the morning came again
And I woke upon the driest desert
My soul shriveled to nothingness

Yet I find somewhere within my spirit
To fight against every ounce of me
That keeps running to false desires
In hopes to find the freedom I yearn

I plead to be crippled from head to toe
To fall on my knees for eternity
Until I'm bruised and broken
And my heart can breathe again

When my lungs are filled with joy
That sings mellifluously throughout
And my eyes burn with passion
Ignited by the purest of light

And like an earthquake on land
May my spirit be shaken violently
Until the day I'm alive again
Where my mind will blossom

Like a field of flowers in the spring
Where the birds hum their beauty
And my thoughts are silenced
While my flesh dances like the bees


Oh, how beautiful this day will be
When winter is quelled by the sun
And every life is flourishing
In the Truth that we all had lost

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a **** lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Assonance