you could shoot a bullet through my head and I still wouldn’t be able to forget about you.
What we had was a special kind of love;
one that made me feel electric.
I have not been able to feel that way since the day you left.

So go ahead, shoot me
I won’t be able to forget you;
but at least *the warmth of my blood will remind me of what it felt like to be in your arms again.

You were draped across a girlfriend's bedroom wall
where a cross would be,
your arms held out loosely like an ambiguous invitation,
shielding your countenance from extraneous intrusions
under which she would sleep soundly
in the shroud of your incantation.

Your fallen angel wings beating back bad dreams
slain mercilessly
and falling at your feet.

Your lips slightly pouting, eyes dark,
obfuscating the madness and ***-crazed hallucinations
they harbor.

Hair purposefully unkempt,
disheveled sensuously atop your head,
tufts of hair brushed across your broad chest--

Bare muscles taut and taunting,
placed topographically on the poised temple--
those ready to worship bow their heads
in reverence to the sonic alchemist.

The modern adonis,
sculpted out of the Mississippi Delta Blues
and Dionysian wet dreams--
brought to life with the electric current pulsating through the microphone and its stand upon which you straddle with skin-tight leather pants--

Your left hand around its waist,
your right cupped over the phallus--
your lips part and your cataclysmal eyes
envelop the darkness before you--

Your image,
tormented and tantalizing
in an open invitation
to prostrate ourselves before you
and succumb to your hypnotic stare.

The door opens.

a fever breaks over another night
and you're wrapped in the heat of dawn
the orange sun is overpowering
in its iridescent sheen
12am slowly slips away
like when you
hide from the daylight
and slink into the 2AMs
how do i tell you
your eyes are electric
only in the morning
and the gold in your gaze
is singing to me

Rhythm & Beats, take me over
Go through my temple
   through skin-deep,
   through my bones
             release your voice, EDM whispers

Tickle my bones,
    dance with me
    with your electric,
         wavey hands

Release my intense feelings,
     trigger every part of me,
       my hormones, my body
                   help me
                           *feel it

What in these symbols has power?
None of my letters could build you a tower,
But something within the screen of my phone
Has mass, has inertia, has song, has tone.

Where are the electric lines?
Neither hither nor thither, whichever one signs
But for some reason, I can't help but feel
That my electric lines are something more real.

What are the squiggles that wave from afar?
A symbolic cookie from an imagined jar?
Or are they a prize for forming a speak
That, through my squiggles, may squeak?

The electrical energy that powers a city
Fridges, happy songs, and lighting so pretty.
That same electricity that powers our lives, can destroy a home in the blink of an eye.
A bolt of electricity thrusts through the sky. The home is destroyed, they’re lucky to be alive.
Is it better to feel pain than nothing at all?
Is it worth the tears of rain that inevitably fall?
The lightning has struck and only a drizzle remains.
The home is now ******, and they’re left sizzled with disdain.
But had they not built that house, in fear of regression,
they would have been left in a life of sorrow and depression.
They will cry, they will mourn, they will ***** and they will scorn,
But when the sun rises tomorrow there will be no more storm.
They’ll reset, they’ll rebuild, better than ever before.

Vicious black rage enveloped his eyes
Electric hate cycled through him
Naturally he resorted to the action he knew best
Graphically and meticulously he planned his revenge  
Enhancing his weaknesses into strengths
Forward he went, ready for bloodshed
Undoubtedly he went for is first five on the list  
Letting his cold vexation take over

-EC

Your skin smells like summer camp,
it lingers on me like chlorine from a pool in July.
Your laughter radiates through your bones like electricity.
I used to tell them all about you-- the boy with the bright eyes that seem to smile before a smile can form on his lips.
I am crazy, all in the best ways and all for you.
I identify as what you call me when I am between the sheets with you.
Your little girl, your little ****, your *****.
All for you.
Lightening, lightening, you are bolts of lightening.
And I'm afraid you've struck something in me because I am on fire for you, darling.