Night plum lips that spread
Smooth like butter across toasted bread
A tongue that tastes of apple pie
Cinnamon spice- an apple sigh

Almond eyes- chocolate brown
Wearing her hair like autumn’s crown
Golden reds her chestnut tower
Absorbs morning’s lighting hour

Blood that flows like dark red wine
Gnarled, twisted like a tree her spine
Her beauty  blooms in the late afternoon
& Sleeps under the harvest moon

...

There's some sanity
in these circumstances
that slide through my view:

"Is it possible to live like you?"
He asked without knowing what
he meant, "because I want to know."

She laughed, still hugging a stranger,
"Inside you're very busy, calculating.
Only alone-ness can give true happiness.

Create some silence within,
for silence is love; and where
there is emptiness, love can flow."

"But how can I love so much?"
He spat his snide remark.
"No love can be inexhaustible."

"For me there is no other-ness;
every one is an extension
of my Self." She smiled.

"All the love I give is returned;
every drop taken is returned to the source.
It is inexhaustible because nothing is wasted."

Would you prefer it if I called myself Master God?  
Would it please everyone if I called myself beautiful? Or would it come off as fake?  
Whatever, nevermind.  
I am zero. I do not count.  I am an omission.  Neglected.  Ignored. Alone.  
I have developed many a personality.  I have become everyone and everything and I am nearing ripe.  I call myself a *******…
Why? Because no one else would… I call myself a scumbag, a loser, a failure, a disgrace.  
Because no one would want that burden.  
I call myself Jesus.  
What confidence?  Keep wondering.  Deliberation hmm…
I call myself a ******* because why not?
If everyone called themselves a *******… we would all be the **** of the earth.
We would all be disgraces. The playing field will finally start at the bottom line.  
We would be **** in unison.  
We would **** embarrassment.
We would **** it.

Goth Glam was a 2010 daydream.

I’ve detached myself
So far
From everything
That
When I got there
I realized,
I was staring at the very
edge of nothing
In the
Darkest parts of
Outer-mental space.
Space
Is
Cold&Empty;
So I am.
Here’s to finding
Light in darkness.
Until then,
I’ll be
Swimming in the slimming,
Black Sea.

Can't catch me in
pink.
Bubble
gum
goth.

I be
honey bee.

Or maybe

The Prince Of Darkness,
just watered down.

You know.
Diluted,
with glitter.

Sparkling.
Sulking in the
Sunlight.

Going to bed at
breakfast.
&
Waking up at
dinner.

I'm runnin'
on
******'s time
these days.