Why scrawl any
pattern or
family of bitemarks
or caresses

The illustrator has
children of his own
and loud red
wine to waste

Visiting your birthplace
in your example
suggests antique
weaponry

Through sublime sense
Puritan watershed

i have bitemarks on me
from you loving
too hard
scratches on you
where i didn't want to let go
but suddenly
the battle
is over
the breathless tangle
at an end
i forgot where i begin
and you did it
on purpose
the bitemarks
you left on me
are sore
and so is anything
that once was
in my chest
love makes me
bleed
love makes you
violent
love makes us
make
war

sun and moon stand side-by-side in the great starless sky of this Monday Sunday Tuesday workweek
with ambulance stoplight caution I leap from crevice to crack of the ***** cement walkways that tear across snowy fields
staring at the world around me - faces as solemn unreserved apathetic mirrors of nothing in their corresponding souls
pair them off in dialogues of the triumphs of the fabled GPA - its deep-throat growling dripping fangs embedded in their minds since sloppy second-hand birth
and I cry out and I cry alone for these are the summers winters springs falls etc and so on of my discontent
for I am a man among gods
gods of capitalism and communism  and social disorder and bureaucracy
gods of music and poetry and written spoken words and fashionability
and the only false evidence of such godly aspirations remain on my body as fading bitemarks on my wrists from when once I tried so valiantly to tear my technicolor blood from these incontinent arms
but even in such times as those there was no salvation but for yellow-staining death sticks clutched between shaking fingers and melting shots fired down raw fleshy throat in rapid secession
the gods I hold so dear have left me for whatever come what may in these places of my mind filled with words and thoughts and images of your everything thrashing against nothing

i found something
on my skin.
oh look,
fingerprints
there where you'd
touched me!

i found something
on my lips.
oh look,
bitemarks from
when you kissed me.

but when i looked
at my heart
searching for
something else you'd left
i couldn't find it.

i guess you were
charging for
your kisses
and the price was
too much for me to pay.

Some like it violent
Insatiable in every sense
Brutal and arousing
Bruises and bitemarks
That draw blood
A delight, red and raw
Teeth marks sinking into flesh

Miss Mass ******
And her new boyfriend
Mister Mysterious
Are in love
Shiny and new
Like the first drop
From a finger pricked
On a cerated knife

But it was too much too soon
Twisted young love asphyxiates
In rooms without privacy
Hitting a new a high
Pointed teeth and fanged smiles
Cigarette drags on moonless nights
*** and death intertwined
There is lust after life

Together forever
Side by side: six feet under
Unnatural and unlawful
It was a night to dismember
A funerary wedding
His and hers in a hearse
Rattling tins and dangling bones
Just married written in a scarlet hue
That is not ink

from what is sensible
i have derived that i am always covered in insects
rats burrow into my mattress at bedtime

i leave in the stingers
i let the bitemarks speak for themselves

because i am sinking
oh god
i am drowning
breathing is more about lung capacity and less about bubbles

i hold my breath and wait

you are
the cosmos
in a paper cup.
i could drink all your space
from this fragile pouch,
and gladly burn the roof of my mouth
on the core of all your stars.

i wish i could bottle your laughter in a jar,
so then i could unscrew the lid
whenever i’ve been unscrewed myself,
a body separated into parts rather than a whole
and the demons inside crawling out to make
art on this canvas skin as red as their bitemarks;
this is when i would most need to have you there with me,
to hear that guttural joy from deep within your throat echoing
to me in the greatest dark.

they say vincent van gogh drank yellow paint
in order to find the flavor of happiness.
i can’t say that i blame him;
i think you’re like drinking yellow paint,
because ultimately you will **** me,
but you’ll taste so sweet going down.

Midnight and I'm aching
Stylus to screen and I'm shaking
Nothing left to write
But I'm scribbling
Note after note
And I'm slipping
Memories twisting my vision
Reality's fake but I'm living
Love letters, bitemarks and
I'm drifting
To maybes and would'ves
Beginnings
Drowning out chapters
Without you
Lost in the thought
And I doubt you
Wanting only to believe that you were real
Not a dream in a moment of twilight
Zoned in on pleasure and starlight
Cursed by the gods of moonlight
That every kiss and word
Trailed tongue
And covered whisper
That every moment fading
You missed her
By her, of course me,
Though I wasn't your only
And yet that cross on my tongue
Delivered you, Holy
Cause blinded by beat, knowing
I still didn't,
Won't care
All that ever mattered was
You and me
There
Here
In this moment
That no longer is
No more pages
Or chapters, stained lips
Done......Fin
Fiending
For even the slightest taste of you
Obsessing and suppressing
Urges to write to you
To beg you to listen
To the want that you feel
To need of my skin
Silk strap of my hair
To ****** you to piercing
My eyes with your own
Allowing me entrance
Through chamber of stone....
Rambling, I'm Ranting
Got an itch for your ******
Breathless, I'm panting
Cause alone I'm undone
Trembling and chanting
"You must move on"
Shower's steaming
Pandora and starfucked songs
Nothing is said and she's giving up
Crying now
aching for a simple touch
Naked now
Drowning
Yet in water you're near
Eyes closed and you're holding me
Disappear
Only when sight
And the droplets hit the tile
Only in ghosts of a stand still while
Only for seconds of traveling souls
How the **** do I end this
Poems and prose
What more to say
You already know
Laying it down
Ever so

S
L
O
W

Sleepless........

©MV

that's right.
drink, boy.
drink like it matters
because it did.
drink like you did something wrong
because you did.
drink like i'm crazy for a reason
because i am.

just because i'm your girlfriend
does not mean it wasn't molestation
wasn't ****
you knew
i was frightened
you knew
i didn't want it (a small part did, but does that matter?)
you knew i would be too scared to say no.
because i was a little girl inside
brave face on the exterior
shivering saint interior
you plucked my bud with hard fingers against me
fingerprint bruises on my arm
bitemarks on my neck
the cut marks on my thighs were not your doing
i did those
myself...

redemption is hard to find.