what if
you have to disgorge
all this frigid?
--- do not left me!

the bonfire
on your *****
see one's way
to ignite
our solitude
--- pulp
your own jitter!

before sorrow
come after
to the verge
of your slumber

your will-o'-the-wisp
rebound from nothingness

so let it winkers
to my wrinkle

to become the words
: valiant and resilient

as brave as my question
above

Alike Saturn?
Heaven too got rings
?Watch the hula hoop?
Circle her hip.

Entwined,
heavy with fruit,
she is suspended in time
Caught in a move
endlessly smooth,
her body winds up,
hugging the cold
pillars and walls,
stretching about,
reaching around
and out to the sky.

She can curve it
in every way
on a whim,
however she pleases
... and droplets will shine
on her body like lotion,
or jewelry, playfully teasing,
although frozen, the motion,
warm is her dance
in the hands of the sun
and the tickling breeze

I stood there
naked in front of you
exposing my mind
laying it on paper 
in the dim lit room 
stripped from
all the limitations 
that my conscience 
lays on me 
like a heavy wet blanket
silhouetting my curves
separating me
from bashfulness
and my true nature

She is pyramidon spreads down the pyramid
Led by him up the pyramid that keeps climbing high.
Continues to straighten his straight line but her
curve off the top embraces full is an enduring spiral!

Off the apex of the pyramid the butterfly has slipped out
Still a circle still a cut whatsmore is concealed in the pi?
Future is in now, deathless in death only a pi away!

Traveling in hard rain
Caution sign flash, curve ahead
Metamorphosis

©  2017 Jim Davis

She said there was zero squared chance of reconciliation
That our lives were not the circle she dreamed,
But two separate lines diverging at a point
Arranged in rays, and some other math terms I never understood
Because she finished top of her class, myself a comforting third
Tier, of the last tier, of those who made it through the door.
And the story has stayed the same, regardless of the term change
I was back in school, receiving a bad grade,
Thanking God for the bell curve, which rang
"Some things always stay the same, but keep trying anyway"
And my averages will remain somewhere between middle of the line
And the bottom of the drain.

So
I will raise my hand for hope,
I will raise my hand for shame,
I will raise my hand to look good,
And to never learn
Quite exactly what I should.

A few forgetful moments
And I am littered with paper cuts.
Each tear is a page: a meaning: a reason.

I am encased with quilts and a
Bubbling love, but the chills
And demons find their way through.

I was told
Explicitly
To pull my head out of my ***,
Because struggling with education, depression, and
Harassment
Is inconvenient for others.

I forgot to reline the trash can in the bathroom.

Dear diary,
I almost hurt myself again today. Its been over ten months since I did it last, but you know what a ***** life is.
See ya later!

***** reminds me of rainbows,
And vice-verse.
My stomach is thunder.

I don't have enough tears to make it rain,
But I might **** enough.

What should I do with my life?
I make decisions and
Work my *** off more than any
16 year old I know,
And care for others in any way I can
In hope that they will return the favor when I need it,
But I'm still ignorant and selfish, says she.

Sometimes I wonder which way is up
And right. A nervous tick of mine.
A moody strand of my being.
Trying to connect to reality, but curving...

Lovely mornings, evenings, nights our hearts took flight
Laughing ceased as sighs increased.

Wafts of sensual sweet smells rose.
Bodies, curved in writhing poses glowed.

Cares lost in arousing touch, lingering fingers longed for
Secrets, shared in sacred sighs and wanton lies.

Arching union quivered and quaked.

I whispered then and will again
Stilettos are not made for walking,

Their soul purpose, freeing our rising desires,
Feeding rapturous tinglings of sensual ecstasy.