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Dean Jul 6
Two worlds collide
en masse they yield
so fine
like lips smacking, our fingers tapping
en route to greater design.
caress our flaws
stroke the doors
into our unconscious mind.

dive deeper with a kiss
explore exquisiteness
both penetrate and yield
gasp, laugh and squeal
now we close our eyes
and lick the inner thighs
bubbling to excess
unlock the inner goddess
the magma will explode
the red rain does now flow

scalding and softening
dissolving, engorging and pulsing
flowing, infusing and liquefying until
deaths
                  delightful
                                       deliquesce.

mmmmmmm...
prlummmmmbra
brinta, recapture
our rapture and play
precognitive display
emerges and surges
our bountiful urges
forming our boundaries
from this ****-filled foundry
blossomed and ready for today
vanessa fonseca Oct 2017
Spinnin and spinnin
Head breaks off into a branch
The ends of my fingertips thin out
Like
I am dense in the middle: thin around the edges: i can feel myself melting away.
He told me
Ill meet you there, but someone will hurt you when the time is most wrong
boywasiright
vanessa fonseca Oct 2017
my heart broke and spilled on the highway
completely
out

i dont have any interactions with ppl that are not customer service interactions
im lonely.     feels like my brain is just logged off.
with an axe i start to work throoo my leg
my brains just off
1 million dollar winner
oh my brains just
off
   wont go on
i hit a pothole, pop my tire and
lose control
911 how are you today im amazing cuz I love life
im laying in the woods and i can't fall in love
with a  hammer i work at my head
til its far gone
h b r Apr 2017
new born
born new
to a world wide
with nails fine smooth
round like shells
little hands that shudder as they curl
hold me tight i will hold you
always
i will pearl you
between rough hands
between a box of black and white light
inside this frame i will keep you
born new
and sweet like water
brush love over my skin your skin is
so light and your eyes ripple
as the sun does when it spills over
the blurry horizon
like water over the brim of your hands
red and brilliant yellow
and cagey orange
and then it's autumn and you
are still new
and your voice could raze even the taller trees
the peeking birds hear your
warble they drop from the
branches dripping and dropping
puddles of whistles & beaks & birdnails
this is a feathered rainstorm growing growing
growing up
which is hard
i can’t make it easy only
easier
the oysters crack open and
daylight shines softly down
to the sea floor
you lie there on the black rocks
lie in my hard hands
lie to your mother and tell her you don’t
love her (she tries to say it back)
but do not lie to everyone about everything
and especially certain things
it's what i did and it made growing up
something awful dark and
alone
i ask again do not
sink to the bottom of the sea
coming up for air makes breathing easier
but not easy
jdotingham Mar 2017
[locked in the box, my secrets die a life]
schrödinger's cat, he sings, we shall never know his strife:
the simple insecurity to the infuriating situation
is pandora will release the demonstration.

[locked in the box, my secrets die a life]
following the maps of the mask of my disguise:
the complex presentation of the penetrating situation
is that hope will diminish in chaotic creation.

[locked in the box, my secrets die a life]*
four walls with no doors (to trap) and philosophize:
*the impending sensation of the sympathetic situation

is that Sisyphus will parallel our little recreation.

But before the box is opened and the cardiac is broken,
a crossroad will be a p p r o a c                                  hing.
What hurts more? The thorns in motion/
                                or lack of map tokens.
Till then, the lies are never dead, nor spoken.
d.d. #69
- inspired by Lord Byron and E.E. Cummings.
jdotingham Dec 2016
(realise
real eyes
real lies
                                  fake disguise.
to hypnotise
                                  .)
i'mfine.
d.d. #10
jdotingham Dec 2016
.
                        e
                      k
                     o
                  m
                s

**cigarrete
d.d. #nonumber.
Max Watt Dec 2016
Chased alone by Exterior Judgment he found himself face to face with The Mirror,
Its surface winked at him, but the person who stared back from within did not.
And then came his Interior Judgment. He asked of The Mirror,

“Phase me out,
Obfuscate me,
Obliterate this judgment I feel.
Make me concrete
against which solitude will
beat its relentless fist
so that I will no longer bleed or bruise”

And so came his christening, the depth of shallow water.
For years he paddled and splashed there knowing his time would come,
Because this was where real pleasures lurked, just beyond his reach.

“Cloak me here,
Keep me invisible to all,
Except those who matter,
And then take me blindly to my coffin”

And one day, while he lay in the pool, he felt the world’s foot on his back,
And he gasped for air, though for what use he didn’t know.
Years later when he finally captured his breath, the only words left were:

“Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.”

And now he stares back into The Mirror and the Mirror glares back.
And he wonders who he could’ve been.
Where all those years had been spent.
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