I did not see your swarm
O Holy crocodile
A sweet disaster
A monster of madness
You crawl into the mouths of men's hearts
Turn them inside out
Alligator dreams inside their minds
Ripping open its seam
You're a nightmare of red
With fangs of silver
And a flash of green
Your roar gives off a unworldy scent
Between worlds of gore
Not of long lost lore
Your warmth is poison
Your love unravels
Your bite is cancer
It kills with inspiration,
So sleep further than the blade of its knife
Or suffer endless obessions
Throughout the rest of your pitiful life.

my grandmother
used to stand over an open flame
every cold morning.
she would fan the fire
allowing it to breath.
then she would boil the water
for the cinnamon tea.
this ritual was for  
all the men in her life.
just so they could awaken
to the smell of spice and
ignited flesh.

at least she kept warm.

strong men like to drink cinnamon tea.
they like to mix their coffee into it
every morning.
it's a beverage with double the damage.
they also enjoy dipping their tongue
in the boiling drink
so they can
sample the taste
of a woman’s burning.

my grandmother
still makes her
te de canela

every morning.

Today I feel like a snail
who took forty years
to cross a road to find
that the other side was
the same.  And you don't
want to deal with the rage
of a tired snail.
It is sad to find yours is
such an unglamorous totem.

Tomorrow I will feel
like an old philosopher.
I might even go as far
as to offer advise
(tiresome and languid),
and will talk about my
great and epic drift
through the great gray dessert.
And you will say,
here's a wise man,
without knowing that
everything was a mistake.
That it still is.

I warn you, I can change
expressions, seamlessly.
Remember this, cats can't
smile, they can laugh or
destroy it's world,
with the furious sorrow
and as slowly
as a tired mollusk.
And they will try.

Nobody will leave unscathed
I am all-consuming fire
You are not safe from harm
You will wish for sleep eternal
Lest you be awoke when you cross me
There is pit of hell-fire that I visit boldly
It makes me brave to face every demon-goblin
When I mine these pits, it’s your caverns I seek
The ****** mess on the operating table makes me yearn you
Your red warm life must become a dry well
Then I am satisfied to make your seams heal

And here I lay.
          My fingers were concealed beneath the sand, intertwined with an imaginary hand I had fashioned in my mind, along with seashells and starfish alike that had secluded themselves from the airy surface. Subdued tidal waves loomed nearer as they brushed my arm, aroused goosebumps on my bare skin, and receded in silence. This was the handiwork of Serenity: she visited my mind when it no longer desired exertion and instead yearned for a peaceful slumber. Her placid disposition induced tranquility... the calm before the storm, the beauty in simplicity. Her presence invigorated me and instilled in me a sense of renewal, even in the infinitesimal amount of time we idled away together.

        When she left, so did her pleasant ambiance. Not long after, her counterpart Worry arrived, along with his ominous clouds that spilled gloominess. Granted, he did not wish to occupy the forefront of my thoughts; rather, he lurked in the background, jarring my nerves and vexing me when given the opportunity. He reeked of doubt and insecurity; yet while I resented his existence, he imposed on me a sense of reality and purpose, constantly reminding me of my tasks and ambitions. With him I would sprint onward on an obscure path, and he would constantly challenge me with obstacles, which gave me the incentive to surpass him, placing us in perpetual competition.

         Rarely did he bring his companion, Fury, with him - yet when he did, the impending storm burst and the ground erupted in blazing flames, inducing a fiery inferno. Fury obliterated everything in her path in a brash manner, acting without reason and seething with fury. She roared with the tenacity of a thousand volcanoes and spewed fountains of scorching lava. Her outbursts generally occurred after her prolonged confinement, yet when they ended she was chained again, and grudgingly retreated back into hibernation.

          After Serenity arrived once more and mended the damage inflicted by Fury, my most treasured visitor appeared: Bliss. Her vivacity and exuberance were unparalleled, and she radiated a glow that blossomed over everything in its path. From the scorched ground bloomed a meadow of mellow wildflowers, an efflorescence of her joy. Overhead, clouds parted and the azure sky reunited with the shimmering water until the horizon was a mysterious blur, calling me to the unknown.

amber fire courses through my veins
my breath is cold to the core
my eyes blazen with rage and agony
my skin hot with fierceness & rage
hair drenched in bloodied silk
my eternal screams of hell can be heard for centuries

Why do the women I meet later make me feel unlovable?
Finding out that truth makes me unstable
It makes me feel this uncontrollable rage for the opposite ***
Just like that breakup I experienced thanks to my ex
Do I not deserve love?
Will I forever be alone when push comes to shove
It's heart wrenching to think I'll never be happy
I'll never have that someone that'll someday have my baby
Will I never have a beautiful wife to wed?
Just because the women of the world make me feel worthless and unwanted.