...
I like to convince myself that she's a walking solar system.
                                              (One)
­                                                          (It will never be enough;)        
She has the sunken cheek bones of Mercury;
~filthy shadows, caked in crimes~
they forge her face,
oh so well,
and engrave her smile in
stone; the sun
laughs sourly,
and then,
he spits on her.
                              (Two)
                   ­                    (Because sorrow is a sweet thing.)
         She reminds me of Venus the most.
         Her hair is the murmur of violet,
         her beauty, it lingers,
         ~like cigarettes beyond the boundary~
         the cosmos, the constellations, and the milky way.
         She is my dragon princess,
         draped in stars and wounds.
         She bleeds
         the somber color of night.
         She is royal, yet alas
         "The queen didn't come
         without a crumbling castle.
                                                                ­  (Three)
                                            (So take it in, don't hold your breath)
                                                      ­   Beneath the arc of her spine;
                                                         Is where Earth plays
                                                         poker with her bones.
                                                         It's such a shame,
                                                         that her ace is her 'unkempt heart,'
                                                         and she lost it to a pitiful bet,
                                                         with a certain ghost I once knew.
               (Four)
                               (The bottom's all I've found.)
            Her fingers gouge through time's fabric, and her hands
            remind me of Mars;
            Powerful and ******,
            Oblivious to what she's created;
            I'm afraid
            the phantom
            she wishes so dearly to see,
            is only getting hungrier.
(Five)
               (Diamond wings were meant to be torn)
Jupiter is the core of her anxiety,
and she basks in it every day,
never by choice, never by desire.
Muscles and skin of iron and goldenrod,
they carve out our very own Aphrodite,
which is you,
it's always been you.
A rabid angel,
a calamity of chaos,
frothing with  blackened fear.
                                                        ­       (Six)
                              (Spill every flower from your garden of thoughts)
                                             Subtle depression lurks between the
                                             the crooked sea of her ribcage,
                                             it's Saturn smoking rings,
                                             brewin' up the cinders.
                                             ~I reminiscence in the white lace~
                                             of the cobwebs that hold her
                                             heart together.
                                             I've plucked them,
                                             those strings play a mournful
                                             sonata, with her name written all over it.
        (Seven)
                          (Promises bend at every funeral we attend)
              In the graces of her palms we found Uranus,
              like teal teeth
              and whimsical witchcraft,
              I watched her thread magic into this world.
              Her hopes shift-shape into 'nocturnal fairies',
              and 'grim reapers' with broken music boxes.
              She is naïve, but that is
              a trait she needs to survive
              in our world of
              metallic dreams and navy nightmares.
                                                    ­(Eight)
                                       (Rejection is a survivable heartache)
                                                   ­  And so what if her heart reminded me
                                                      of Neptune the most?
                                                      The royal vastness
                                                      of­ blue and ivory;
                                                      ~rip­tides on the walls of her soul~
                                                      I want her to know that ambitions
                                                      l­eave more scars and
                                                      tear more crystal flesh;
                                                      tha­n her polished wishes ever will.  
      (Nine)
                       (Have you ever seen blood and water in love?)
And her lungs,
they remind me of the honesty of Pluto.
So small, and docile,
like an elliptical smile of grey fire.
Would you lay with me a while,
count your unconditional lovers;
like our burnt stars in mason jars?
Struggle is the birth
of the void and the 'rapture'
~Your king and poet will wait for you,
in the radiant abyss of our ink-hearts~
I will guide you to his open arms,
              a hug awaits my dragon princess.

                                                     ­                   He wears the stars for clothes,
                                                      li­ke an outlaw,
among the banks of the universe.
               Where disease can't reach him, or she,
                                          Cancer can't harm you anymore,
                                                       ­          "Not anymore, Belle."
...

floral effervescence
     wafts around you

          thy theo black temperament rose iq
          ushers lulabies as playful amor kru
          apollo is falling for the aquamarine
       rays, reflecting the sea's craved ardour
     and our love is like a cyclamen oleandro

  the fascinating, dissolving, poisonous sleep
  inwardly unaware of the whitest clouds oro
  seducing the beauty of a ceruelan absolute ~
   if i were the wave i would foam your dream
    if you were a black panther i'd be your kaa
       for a day to experience your mighty paws

     to tremble like open window shutters, strickened
       by the fire, by light, by thunderbolt's love flame

       oh, come on, come on sweet man of the fantasia
       i've got to tell you i ain't foolin' around those dim
      alleys at nights like this; luscious calls lure hello
       at least, hear my hearts deepest throbbings, hear

     them, embrace them, conquer my world's cream
      taste the strawberry sweeteness on a tip of me, u
       trickle your tongue against my open buoyancy
       write kaligrafic words of love's invisible tint
        beautify the untouched pergament, maestro

        write like there's no time nor tomorrow's no;
       inaugure every christmas crickets flash mob
       within you and awaken me from a slumber,
       deeply rooted, lovely and mild as wood's chi
       and I will cherish you, praise and love long
        forgotten wild forest's animals as panacea
        for the dissolving salt upon a love wound  
          which torchered your solitude for who's

         pleasure, for what reason, for a slick slap
          of an epic trustful faith as lux aeterna
             crashing the myth of a love superior;
          a desolation of waning touches soma

         hiding its fragility in madmind's attempt
       to overcome what's earth's given inferno;
        to die in a lustful blazing heat of creatio

          contemplating about heavenly key lock
        how to forge a golden key to your anima,
      gracefully giving a hand to her emperor
      to dance on a verge of an existence' folie
       to blossom upon hushed world's meridian
         in dreamy space n' time, first darlin' flush
        the prime animus dances, dares, waters~

I want to be sunburnt.
I like peeling off my dead skin
and ******* in the ocean.

I kissed a boy
who's mother beat him
and who went home at night to his little baby sister
and prayed that she would never end up with a guy like him

I kissed a boy
who's mother neglects him
and spends all his time
wishing and waiting for what could have been

I kissed a boy
who's mother just let him
do whatever he wants to women,
because that is what his father believed also

I kissed a man
who's mother respects him
and who treats a lady with care and gratitude
putting her own needs before his own

The first boy I kissed,
he touched me when I said no

The second boy I kissed,
he lied and broke me whole

The last boy I kissed,
was nearly twice my height and age

The first man I kissed,
he loved me for every page

Now if this doesn't tell you
the love of a mother,
I am not quite sure what will.
Just because you
got treated like a *****
doesn't mean your son
should treat women as that still.