poisonous trash thrown
lives underwater suffer
wide bricks hold them in

Today the breath of life suffocates me
And the poison I poured
Makes me ask
If it is too much.

I feel a shadow in my head
That wants more
A craving
For a taste

Poison used for medicine
To heal by forgetting
And living in present
Without the burden of feeling

What an awful sensation:
The sense of touch;
After holding of another
Is learned,

The body never forgets,
And the only thing
That gives the senses in my skin
Amnesia of touching

Is the poison I pour,
But it’s never enough.

I'm afraid of plucking away at old memories.
They bite. It hurts.
And the more I remember,
The more I'm consumed.
Don't forget,
Poison remains poison.
The antidote is up to you.

Pink supernovas
call monarchs to crawl;
poison milk drops from
broken green breast.
Fields flicker with rivers
of afternoon latex.
O fluent wound,
this is a poor man's Lethe.
There are better ways
to forget what happened
than the annihilating
milkweed cripples.

i am so desperate for his affection
that if he held out a cup of poison
i would've accepted it with glee
convincing myself the burn it left
was his dose of warmth for me

I cast the muse into the sea
to wake her from a peaceful sleep.
This poet’s quill is void of ink;
it needs her words to strike the page.

She’ll fight the waves Poseidon sends
til Sirens drive her back to shore
to sip an oleander brew
and hoist the cup of Socrates.

Bring wolfsbane and a death morel!
Bring nightshade and curare too!
We’ll fatten her with woe and pain!
We’ll ready her for war and hate!

She’ll writhe and quiver, seethe and foam
until she spews her putrid verse
upon the blackened sands of time
from which men’s darkest dreams are built.

And when the gods are satisfied,
when Ares’ sword has slashed and burned,
this poisoned pen will rest at last.
Calliope shall sleep once more.

My tongue gives so much pleasure with honey flavoured praise
She bears ripe fruit and drips with perfumed sap
If you merit her attention she’ll treat you with delight

Her touch is warm and tender
If she is cherished…

Right?

She’s tamed to speak with merit but there is no guarantee
She won’t spout bitter venom if you’ve wounded me

Men have tried to tame her with strength and brutal lust
They met with bitter poison

Killing lust forever…

Cursed!

Poison is a woman's weapon-
venomous like a snake.

It won't **** you
all at once
like the brute force of his hands.
Instead, it takes you slowly-
deteriorating your sense of self
making you wish for death.
Death that brings end to dying.

she has no moral qualms
when it comes to you and all your wrongs.
she only knows betrayal
and that's enough for her.