#bedrooms
#
*Within the stability
Of a late-night bed,
thighs part fully
from words given..
Words, sent
Hands on curved hips;
******* to bare chest..
As the daughter of Light
is lifted up
there is an Entering
In Seed-splashed egg
a New Beginning;
Chains of steel
falling free
within the warmth
of each new Pulsing
(there is the sound of Ecstacy
on the inside of the door;
on the other side of it--
the forever-harsh clank,
of judgement)*
#
Aug 17, 2023
Aug 17, 2023 at 11:42 AM UTC
what feels good can’t hurt you
until it’s not good anymore.
reality doesn’t touch the bedroom
until someone opens the door.
you can grasp skin and
pull someone close,
but it doesn’t stop them
from leaving
once you let go.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 2:09 AM UTC
I try to forget about
the things that I’ve done,
and sometimes I can
but when I get home,
I see that my bad decisions
are still stained into
my bedsheets.
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 2:03 AM UTC
his sheets felt like the ocean on my skin
so i forced his head head under the surface
while i counted his eyelashes.
his hands looked like paper lace
so i grabbed his fingers tighter
and brought them to my lips.
his shoulders smell like the floor of a forest of pine trees
so i laid my head on his chest
roped my fingers through his hair
while the lights flickered in his basement
i wonder who let him hold the keys to his own chest
or the cradle for his own mind
his structure of patience is beyond architecture
and his touch of my spine is beyond medicine
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
1909, on top of the dragon.
Marigolds whipping a tepid fug in this small room of stringy daylight.
That place where we fell in love. Where I dropped a hot cup of tea on my pants
And we ate sushi on the beach. I love the beach.
I am not ready for the ice festival or your new boyfriend.
He smells like bad disco and old people.
This piano concerto that I play before bed, before awakening,
I have your black dresser drawer in my bedroom,
It glistens of our days of Jasmine and Roses.
My mind blurs stories of you, her, and the other girl.
Rad violin songs, a friend from Argentina has introduced me to
Mystify me, I cannot hear straight or stand still. I have acquired
A gift for shivering. Still I can feel your talons raking up my spine.
Two fingers! Where? Why? How did you do that thing with your mouth?
I count upwards from you and in my peaking hours of misfortune, I
Never come back down to earth's giant centrality of duel existence.
My gut expands into my chest, my nervous system and anxiety is
All of you, a lot of her, and none of the other girl.
I make half inch black markings on the wall, this curse of feeling and not forgetting
That never goes away.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC