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touka Sep 2015
atrophy,
sweet heart

tissue, waste and eat

illness;

the taste

call out, body

screaming;

long for precipice

and echo into abyss

cling to low lands

keep still,
sweet heart

sweet beat
and flooring speak
run, lover
touka Sep 2015
i
burn cold;

her vitriol, a swarm;

overwhelming, the sting

of such ice --

december plume,

risen from chasms

the air, choked with fire;

the stench

of cerulean flame

her piercing smatter; ******, igneous, the shrieks

and the ring of such sound

settled in her ears.
  Sep 2015 touka
Padan Fain
she laid her hand
upon my leg
that mating dance
that fingertips
sometimes do
was this
a house of spirits
a house of music
or just another house,
no, just another night
that breeds regret

a voice
she practiced
in the mirror at home
predatory
in its trappings
that ebony banner of intent
gripping her tightly
showing off the perfect amount,
all the parts she hated most

tilted thoughts
that swung on pendulums
of midday,
or was it midnight?
it doesnt matter
nothing matters here
where we are all drowning
just to stay above the surface

shes back again
tugging at me softly
a shark
testing its catch
or a child
crying for attention
breath acrid from the water
shes been drinking
to wash away the trash
of men who littered
her life

we all lose ourselves
somewhere
in that slurred translation
swearing we're ourselves
but friend, you know
were really not
we never were
as only those parched recall

I am one such
numbered man
I reach for her hand
but my fingers meet glass
swirling crimson
a color for secrets
my other hand draws her
close, draws her
how she was as a child
before the world killed her

she pushes her face near
only scent and hot breath
deeper under the water

But, with a finger to her lips,
I whisper


"I'm sorry darling, I'm just here for the wine."
touka Aug 2015
an abstract piece

the sour smell

of ocean decay;

chartreuse waves

vermilion sky;

light breaks

and earth, untamed

hide,

ocean's undertow

and sleep, stagnant flame
  Aug 2015 touka
phil roberts
When I was still young and fresh
A million years ago
I walked on edges
Always on the edge of something
Something wild

Bright lights and long nights
Lots of laughter and music
Always music
Singing with the band
Dodging the flying glass
When fights broke out
Howling to the moon
Oh, wild indeed were we

All shadows now, alas
Visions from an addled brain
Pubs, clubs and smoky dumps
Leave no turn unstoned was the cry
More fun than fundamental
And fundamentally flawed, it was
A couple of hours sleep 'fore the day job
With eye-lids stuck together
And walking into walls
But still I wouldn't have swapped it
For all the strait laced straight faced
Wealth in the world

                                 By Phil Roberts
  Aug 2015 touka
Ann Beaver
Walk the edge
A tightrope.
Steady.
Building to building
Moment to moment
Pen to paper

Commit me to forgetting
Forcing is the the same as letting
Last time I checked
You were some gold flecked
Feather
And together
We staggered down the tightrope

This all was a way to hope
Melted candle now.
Steady.
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