The ear bends to sound–
as does the ground, to the man
in the weeds; tangled by their doubts.
Wet eyes, as the sea; stained cheeks
I follow an emptiness with the fullness
of hope; to the bending sounds of knees

click, click!

My body starts to feel like wet pavement –
a couple slip ups, for the mind to easily recall
Anxious slow breaths, exhaling and inhaling
I cry out, “I don’t want to do this life anymore”

Taking a moment to clear out that sound,
bending backwards; but why for them, at all
These inner voices, are all so FREAKING loud  

Wait no, my insecure self, is just talking to itself.

hear a siren out
the window think of nothing
just took a long time
to realize it

Needless to say, I need less reasons
to feel threatened by you spitting
on my grave; my spirit would still
bloom out a beautiful rose.

You might picture me as a failure
in your mind—so allow me to pose
in front of you, with these charms,
for what you like to suppose.

You only know what you know;
what is revealed on the surface,
of what a person shows.

Yet, if we do not engage in profound
pieces of talk, you don’t know me,
for my ALL.

Desynchronized glances,
evaporate
into long, ravenous gazes.

Each of us is a mirrored pool,
a reflecting pond,
that the other could swan-dive, into,
facefirst, and drown in.

We drip hotly
and melt, for each other,
like simmering rivers
of molten candle wax.
I twist around you
like a curl, of oiled hemp.
Your fingers tense, grip,
and peel back the skin, of
cotton thigh highs
as your face elongates,
and your mouth, moves...

languorous tongue,
trailblazing downwards
from the mons veneris,
to worship, devoutly,
at my sacred shrine, below.
The slippery wetness,
of exposed thigh
slicks, and grazes,
your stubbled cheeks
tenderly perfuming
the tensed column,
of your working throat,
with my feminine scent.

We interlock, tongue and groove.

Your tongue tip flicks the nub,
back and forth,
like an ignition switch,
as the engine hums, to life.

You stoke my fires,
with every lingual stroke.
You blow my torch,
into a fervid flame
that spreads heat throughout
the inner chamber,
and you warm your face
in its baking, radiant glow.

I bite down, delirious with ecstasy,
into the skin, of my own tensing arms;
wrists bound, in python restraints, overhead:
resisting the force, of the virulent scream
forcibly spreading, throughout pink lungs.

Yes...oh, God, yes.

I churn, from the hips, down
raining, into your expectant face,
mouth pealed, helplessly, for the scream...
and the sunlight breaks overhead
as I smile brightly, and collapse, around you.

...Oh...puddin'...have mercy, on me.

Now...

we separate,
and interchange places, smoothly.

Your hands, dig, into the voluminous depths
of loosely bound, twin comet tails.
You wrap their trailing, cherry cola ends,
around tight, clenched knuckle fists,
as my lips, purr, against ever-expanding skin.

Don't you dare...let go,
of these handlebars, baby,
as I rev up, hard,
hit a wet patch, and SLIDE.

....Hold on tight, to me, and RIDE.

Do you feel me,
even now...?

...I can still taste you,
the ineffable flavor, of you...
the unfathomable essence,
of you.

The scent of you, like sweet suede,
and oiled leather,
teases flaring dragon nostrils...
and you cling, to my palate,
foaming ebulliently,
upon anemic lips,
in a dark ale; a rich wave,
like a full-bodied stout.

Your molecules, dance,
so harmoniously;
falling into step, with mine,
and then bursting,
into sweetly soured air...
still waltzing, in an undisturbed cadence
on the back,
of my outstretched tongue.

I hunger, for you;
for the undivided sum, of you.
I long, to be punch-drunk,
on the volume, of your liquor...
and walking dizzy circles,
trying to find the unbroken path,
in the medium of starlight,
that will lead me, to your own galaxy.

You ease, and excite,
in a fragment of breath,
that steams static skin,
and urges it, into eager life.

You exist, in a tangled stream
of my consciousness...
the ghostly imprint of your lips,
teasing the ganglia,
like the trailing, kitsune tails,
of a whip,
and brushing towards the brain stem
in long, torturous flicks.

You live there,
like an implant...
you are woven, into a carnivorous tapestry
of living, breathing scars...
that reach around my heart,
like needful arms.

Oh, my sweet,
fractured,
lover

won't you rob my lungs,
of their next succession, of breaths?

...And render me comatose, again.

Just look at me, i’m like you,
My train of thought is just a little scattered,
Still, i try to act like you,
With the hope that i’ll be accepted.

Different ideas, different behavior,
Different views of the world, different likes.
We’ve never really been the same, have we?
How could we be?

You love the sun, i love the moon and the rain,
You love the crowds, i love solitude,
You love to talk, i struggle with words,
Yet i speak as if we were twins.

I want to speak out loud, to be heard,
But I’m soft, gentle, quiet, like a little mouse,
I hold out my hands like a toddler,
At my age, that must look ridiculous to you.

I am like you,
And even then, you’d still shun me,
Thrown into a corner, placed on a chair, facing the wall,
Told to shut up, and that it will help.

They said I’m being heard, yet i’m still a shadow,
Words of love, but looks of disgust and anger,
It's just like in the old days, isn’t it?
Only dumbed down, and now only words are usable.

I’m human, yet they see me as inhuman,
There’s tolerance, but it barely exists,
Told to accept myself as i am,
But how, after all this?

To think i would've been put in a cage,
To think i would've been ******* and gagged,
To think i would've been starved and beaten,
And to know i cannot be cured.

Despite it, i try to fit in,
Even after the torture done to people like me,
Because you know the saying, right? People change,
If only that could apply to me, so i could be like you.

All the intricate variables swirl within me, acting as a cause to
overstep my thinking, as you race through my mind. Of course, love
is blind, as it wears a blindfold to those glaring red flags you love to
turn a blind eye to. To break on through, even as you hold the brakes
on your personal drive — trust that on this journey, you will
ultimately discover your moment of breakthrough.

And when that drive turns a shade of blue, your own sadness leaves
you feeling less than colourful. As I've likely tasted my full share of
the Blues; where my existence hinges on where the wind last blew.
As the growth of the next tree relies on how far the wind carries its
seeds— so how far have I scattered my own fruit?

Even when there's a smile in your laugh; it can feel complementary,
akin to sitcoms with a good laugh track. Yet, I often lose track of how
many times I fake laugh. Seeming normal to people, is such a chore to
have; always having to tidy up my act. Yet I navigate through these
mundane conversations, laughing my way through normal
conversations. Please insert a fake laugh.

But behind the laughs, I'm really just weird.