my skin opens up effortlessly
revealing the source of life behind
it seeps through the cracks
revealing its secrets to my mind
the burning sensation tingles
finally letting me feel the pain
the streak of red like no other
finally showing the world i'm insane
the sense of release so rewarding
letting me relax inside my body
this may not seem so healthy to others, i'm
letting you know i truly am sorry

I'm not looking for
A statue in a museum
Or a love song about me.
A heart beating
To the rythm of mine
Sounds perfect for me.

When summer comes,
I recall the smell of sweet cigarettes.
The smell that made me suffer and drowned.
The smoke kept you away from me
I wanted you to take me far away
But you didn't.
Before I forgot that smell
Before I forgot shape of you
Summer had gone.

Thinking about you is like watching the sun set over the most beautiful place on earth. Your colors painted across my sky and lit up my world with sensation. You amazed me like a hundred different colors that changed with the position of the sun. I’m just laying here staring at the moon and dying to know if you felt the same

when my lips are spoiling your skin
don't think i'm detached.
my chest would hammer
driving the nails even deeper
(is that what the hollow in heart is?)
as my breath crawls onto your collarbone
and my fingers draw figures onto your *******
my hair would brush across your chin
my hair would coil around your fingers
and my life would coil around your bones

I don't need no **** man,
But I do need you.

I don't want no **** body,
But I do want you.
Your heavenly lips and the taste of your skin, and
The actual feel of the sensation becoming real.

As the rapture in my stomach continues to expand,
I can hear your **** *** voice taunting me, teasing me, got me thinking the sensation is real.

But it's only a dream,
And he says dreams come true.
So its only a matter of time before you do come through.

We'll be put to the test of being drugged with feels,
And determine whether the sensation its real.

--D.K.

The tide glides in
Like silk to my skin
And I long
To veil my body
With the sensation.
Stretch out
Face down
And let it pull me
To it's ground.  
But I am a coward
And watch
As the water recedes.
"Please,
Wait for me".

You choked on chariots raw. Red egg yolk suppers, churned of the milk oceans this morning you kept.
The lintel of stone turned toward dusk. Some great dynasty of submissive spirits catering your morning
Out on a cart of muse, forms of heaven cannot even hear you. You are a soporific knot in the tale of your Old womanhood. In this infinite Tuesday morning your small black eyes, like an oil tanker toppling over The intense azure sea- shipwrecked, and lost.

Departing from your childhood you slurp Coca-Cola from a silver straw. From the corner store and inside Winter yawns. There is no face, only strikingly beautiful black hair. The body under you is at home in all
My hand's fingers have to fill. All the clothes that you could carry for the two-way adventure. There are
Never enough bubbles between your lips and the glass bottle you have. Only the score of the whistleblower. And the poor symphony you had prayed for into the dial-tone phone, the deep Wilderness, that stiff forever-ago budding from your coffee cup. Neurogenesis lifted from your Fingerprints and emblazoned into this lump of human ingenuity. The hopeless octave that cut us all short.    

Every short story that was left untold. There are the brief deaths recoiling in your spiritual architecture. The ****** of morphia has bourn me awake. Inside you are often unscathed, vanishing as some of Tonight's parts assemble you, on you blue is a beautiful color. The sweet retreat that gave you life or the bountiful deaths that counted you too cutely by your side. You are the sun in my black coat. Here is my sea, your sea, you'll see.