I want to annotate your margins with my mouth.
Then I wanna arch you, till your spine curves.
I’ll take your pretty cover off and touch your soft paperback.
To affirm the words you wrote to me,
So forth, I’ll even say: And I, you.
So I, so you; so much.
You’re so then, such a good girl.
I’d use you and reuse you, maybe even never, ever let go.
You make me turn to our next chapter.
So, I do.

Stunted, the same, by
          highs
            and
           lows
           alike.
A jubilant parade inside
           some nights.
Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters!
No good time left unexploded.
Rusted blood iron and red wine
filling my eyes.
          Tired of feeling "weird."
          Tired of knowing I'm being.

I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't
                              scare me.
I wish I could love anything in ways that
                            couldn't hurt--
                           --inward or out--

                    I wish...
                    I think...
If I sit on this bench...for a long time,
and keep perfectly still...but make subtle
                    eye contact
          with some of the crows...
they'll accept me as one of them?

                    Teach me to fly
                    Or, at least, hide
                       in plain sight.
        A new vocabulary for my quiet
              when it starts to get mean.

Entangled, alike, by
          lows
          and
          highs,
         the same.
Convenient jailbreak for a Name--
               --Say it.
Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula.
No good night goes unpunished.
Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine--
crying outside
                    Tired of being fragile
                    Tired of knowing I know.

                   And how 'bout the crows?

                   I'm good for a laugh, they suppose.

Hypnotic,
Dizzied in frenetic sway
She commands gaze
With black licorice lips
Hourglass hips,
And the bluest sapphires
Darting through rust-colored tresses
She’s a Victorian *****
Obsessed with scented depth
A lover paler than death,
Clutching like raptor talons piercing my heart
I give freely to dance to the beat of
Zephyr winds howling and my organic drum.

Lust creeps like a sneaking thief,
Undone by a mischievous Cheshire grin
Fingertips upon me, tracing little circles
Tickling the silky flesh of my lips
I want her in the worst ways,
Blood flooding the gates,
Erecting the bridge I wished to cross her streams
And drown myself face-first in her eaves
I find myself paralyzed in time
In hopes she would unbind,
She simply turns the light off
Whispering into the night

“You are mine”

Squishy fated
Topography
Meant to puzzle
Together,
the nexus of
Interlocking
limbs--
pulsing and
pumping.

The conductive
catalyst
the dazed hazy
Swooning--
I bite my lip
and you start to
give in,
I won't tell you no--
take a hit
to the bed
grabbing sheets
*******
air past teeth
no thoughts
just breathe...
or don't.

Choke
on the nexus
of firing synapses
the electric relapses
into shivers and moans--
****--
I need
to
feel you.

Your skin
lingers in
the shivers--
in the wake
of the day
my body
Remembering
that you
aren't there
and it aches.

Please--
Lead me there,
Take
Me
Please,
Let me
bathe in
your twilight.

You can hear the alarm bells,
See the red flags.
You know this will ruin you,
And you walk in with eyes wide open
Nonetheless.

You try to justify it to the world,
To yourself.
It's the end of the road;
a sense of belonging, finally,
of having a purpose,
and you're tired.
So tired of wandering, searching,
Hoping.
Choking on the salt in the air, the sea an endless barren desert with no land in sight.
So when you hear the siren's call,
And you know it spells doom,
You answer it anyway.
At least it will be over.

Except it's not death you're heading towards, but not a life either,
You'd be called crazy
If there were anyone around.

You're tired, and this feels safe,
To fall sleep in a dungeon,
To drop your heavy defenses.
It's hard work keeping them up,
And you're tired.

There's no room for mistakes in chains.
Your hands can't move to sin.
You're clean, and good;
Your mind is light, free from worry
And planning.

Your eyes fall shut.
You don't dream.

Put it in a box and tell it you’re mine
Chain it up tight and tell it it’s fine
Make it wait. Make it shake.
Make it quiver. Make it quake.

Keep it dark. Full of despair.
Make it gasp for every breath of air.

Tell it don’t you dare —
Move and it might just tear.

Maybe even share
for a faire

to dress it up, dress it down
Make it smile, make it frown

With metal spikes to keep it still
Easy to use, ready to fill.
Into the morning and through the night
It should know better than to put up a fight.

12/28

I dream of leathered men, I dream of you, touching me, ******* me, loving me.
Hold me in your clutch, dominate me, make me yours.
Your voice like velvet, and your body like diamond.
Cut me, mark me, I am your canvas.
I am your art.
The cruelest artist with a delicate touch.
I beg of you.
I whimper in pleasure.
More please.
"Be a good boy for me" "yes sir" on my knees. Complete submission.
Take me to space.
Make me forget all that came before you.