my body was once a temple to Daphne consecrated,
got razed by your sinful touch,
an ingenue bearing the grudge.
ephemeral eudaemonia, sempiternally anesthetized.


crimson substance will gush out from my lips,
running down my ******* and hips
it will splatter my ankles and thighs,
retracing the marks of the night you eroticized.


same old scars were once covered with epidermis,
petrichor smell, decorated with the salt of my tears.
backsliders will cry at my vault, murderers won't go to court;
left with a soul reduced to the coagulation of common thought.

Rosa Isabelle is a splendid shilling,
Shining silver, bright and smooth,
Rosa reflects joy and love and the pride
Felt by family in full orchid bloom

Parenting is a statement
of belief
in our future
in our potential
in our intent
to grow
and to change.

Parenting is a statement
of faith.

I really do dream,
just a wishful day,
picnic baskets.
smelling like cooked chicken
Our children take in
all the yummy delights
fill tiny little bellies
as the sun downs to the moon.
The spectacle of the night.
the bringing of bright stars,
Overwhelming are the children
Falling asleep in the barn's hay

Imagine a little child
Wandering through the streets all alone,
With nothing but a tiny backpack
And a toy in their hand.

No one stops to ask if they're okay,
No one wants to look at them,
Most people don't even aknowledge them.

And they only care
When the child gets hit by a car,
Dissapears from existence.
To never be seen again.

Roll the dough into flat as well,
as the ocean's water begins to swell,
like an axe with a forcibly fell,
and the lava bubbles in the fires of hell.

There's a truth to every typed word,
against the singular of all the herd
pinky fingers and what you will swear
Don't play this old game of truth or dare.

I never as you were like a daughter,
in my eyes, a proud wishful figure,
Your words hit hard like a razor blade,
I felt lost in the darkness of hades.

Let me out.....
Let me....

How can I sing without my wings,
a rhyming truth to the soft of broth,
The pleasuring to the a voice that sings
The insects don't zap to this distraught
like a school lesson couldn't be taught.......
and like a bumble bee in a glass that's caught.

My life is on the list
of all the heretics,
I won't bother defending
or pretending
they'll light the end.
I don't examine,
the broken cannot mend
Once the letter sends,
it sails far into the ocean.
Remember clicking
once to a heart beat,
rushing for the best seat
next to daddy
a car, a sun-day driving
beautiful scenery.....
The worlds two between,
flaming at all my green trees,
and an image I wished to be,
A need for cradling knees.....
The Earth raises up with its pleas
and doubt only I can believe.

rescue

how many times was I there,
on the red rug with my mother,
clawing away at me
like a vicious *****.
Ravenously,
Forgive me...
as these memories
shall bury me.
Sincerely,
can you rescue me
with limited senses
and restrictions
of my freedom
the memories
are so painfully.....