He wanders through the darkest nights, cussing, unforgiving, but forgiven.
Unloved, resistant to the one who once raised his smile again,
Not out to steal the wild spirit from the ebony one,
Not out to snare and steal the dark,
The spirit of the one that she once loved in the city park,
On a bright summer afternoon, on a bright summer's day,
He left in body but, never went away.
Left the closet in which he was hidden,
Just for a while, a sparkle in time, the sweet lady, she gave him a reason to smile,
But, he  just sits, just pushing his pen,
Thinks of sweet woman now and then,
The threat to his liberty never forgot,
Ridden with guilt.
As his sits and hides in his warning corner,
Cuddling only his most blessed pen,
She sits in her place doing the same,
And life it goes on and on and on......
And one day,
He shall remember the one who fixed his smile,
Although she made him cry!
(C) Livvi

Late breakfast in the cafe of sins,
The one where all the calories hang out,
Cholesterol climbs up the tasty mountain,
Counting the calories that pile onto her voluptuous waist,
Like hell she did.
A devious mischievous taste.
She nibbles at mushrooms,  just like Alice did,
The sliced up sausages chucked on to her plate,
Taste real great,
The beans as much too freaking hot.
The eggs are runny, just like snot, but that's how she likes them,
The bacon squealed, as it jumped from her plate, wrapped up in tissue,
Dog thought it great,
And the Turks, they sat with their wives,
******* like crazy on sweet Shisha pipes!
(C) Livvi

Be my Hero, my protector.
  The one I can run to when
     I need a shoulder to cry on.
Be my Hero, my lover.
  The one who's name I call
    when I'm alone in this dark world.
Be my Hero, my bright light
  The one that makes my day
    brighter with just one smile.
Be my Hero, my knight in shining armor.

bleeds through pages, soaking
black and heavy into strings of wood
stretched to breaking, pressed too tight.
Others are scratched into open wounds,
dyeing blood reds magenta
as they crust into scars.  Permanent.
Names painted in defiance

for the greater good.  Thoughts
called into being by blues
and reds, and greens, and
halting greys as they spill
their living guts onto pages lines
with ink.  Printers’ ink, that is—

different from all the other kinds.
Lighter, duller, marking things no one
should cross.  Making boundaries.
Those inks are too cold to bleed,
too stiff and flat to stain a **** thing.
They refuse to sing because

they are broken, full
of tiny gaps and little pores.

I feel safest wrapped in
Darkness
Solitary,
Voluntarily.
Shut my eyes and experience the
    Colors,
       Under covers,
Fast asleep.
(I never asked you to be next to me.
I never told you that I couldn't feel.)

       And I feel strangest
In the daylight
In the sunshine or the shade I am
   Opened like a book
For leafing through.
My ink melts and leaks
Off pages
Until
Descension,
  Depths of ages
Passed and to come.
   Again I am one.
(I never asked you to
Let me in)
Cloak of blackness
Masks malpractice
Sets me free.
Solidity,
   Shattered as the sun

Beats me awake and I am
      Shaken,
      Naked,
Young, Dumb, Prepared to Fake it
Let me be.

Let me sleep in the crook of your mind
Controlling your every dream
So I may occupy yours
As you occupy mine