Torrid calefaction of the sudor taste Slips between ourn locked fingers Gliding as astronauts to the farway distant promise land. Panting one another's breathe, as thy chest rubs mine own in splendor waterfall shock!!! Ourn legs art as rocks, heated from underneath, ourn lips glaze in defeat as ourn tongues wander eachothers garden. A feline hiss and a hound scowling kissing all the way down wherein mine jargon is hushed by thy wetness covering mine face... As I don't cease, but feel thy hands squeeze mine premier dome, as thy nails rip into mine back... I'm blindfolded, tied from behind. Teased. As thou I please..... Between the sinew of ourn mind.... As ourn angelic language canst be heard across the village!!!!

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My insides were scraped,
Molded, and shaped
Into words on the pages,
And my eyes watched
In silent horror (silent pleasure)
As the fire devoured emotional
Responses, (hopes) to the
Fabrication of reality you made
Me wear.

Grey dreams, papery lies
That streaked the pages of my hands.
Burnt poetry is the best kind
(Burnt memories are the best kind)


The tapping at my door
Keeps waking me up
And it isn't a raven
Asking me about some
Eleanor.
No, it is the urn, full
Of ash and imaginings
It rattles with displeasure;
I shall let it go.

Heavy, but light in my arms,
Taking the cinders to the sea
(Finally, I'd let you free.)
Only to have oxygen transform
And disfigure ash into butterflies;
They attacked ruthlessly, at my face
With kisses that brought back memories.

I blew out my wish
"Let this be my last" And
Suddenly, there was nothing
Just the results of paper and
Calefaction.

You have me
           between
a polished rock
     and a hard place
like up against
the fridge
         or perhaps the wall
and if these swamplands
get any damper
I might
have to change
         the protocol
The humidity is rising
hot and wet, today, they say
it's best to proceed carefully
lest the steam fogs
up the way
Soon these swamps
will give way to jungle
for the heat is just too deep
I'm trying to fight it off
roasting slowly in my sleep
The calefaction is just too much
it drives me to distraction
like a fire in the brush
igniting lust for satisfaction
As for me
             I'm going swimming
in the nearest
lake or creek
my skin is
already dripping
so bring your love
                  to fix the leak

This rainforest of longing
    could break me at the seams
but when you show me your bare essence
the butter turns to cream
Oh ****
I am so between that hard place
and the rock we talked about
It's making me quite crazy
But let there be no doubt:
I need this tender conflagration            
even if my head
          stays in a spin
This frenzied circle
will go on and on
until the first blush
of skin
       on skin

Tell me what it is
About the trees
Dusty grey and gloomy in October
That resonates so dearly with a heart
Melancholy and somber
This rain is soothing
Like the soft white I line my walls with
A golden haze playing through my veins
And flames to match the essence
But not the calefaction

You can watch me drift into a paralysis effortlessly
A debilitation cold and lingering
Like lifeless trees awaiting the worst
Some sun
Does not change the course of nature
And I wonder what flavor of future
Nature holds for me
I feel like the trees
In the middle of a foggy autumn afternoon
Comfortable

And content
Living in the shadows of a world
Too engulfed in regurgitated highs
To contemplate or appreciate struggle
A world utterly ignorant to individuals soft spoken and inherently
Harmonious in the ways of authenticity
And naturalism and realism
We have the endurance to undergo lifelong tempests
But lack the energy to speed through
Trivial phases of Insatiable beauty 
Our growth is goddess enough

Tell me what it is about the moon
Majestic and nostalgically haunting
A calming through night's terrors
And unforgiving traumas
Silver whisps of validation shine into a heart
With love looking a little too much like silhouettes
An ebony void seeping into the cracks of joy
And pain becoming an obvious pattern
And the moon is there always
Watching the molding in a resentful awe

What happened to the life of the young
Happiness looking like summer nights
And chrismas lights and vintage pop bottles
Fading into an uninviting outline
Through that type of half reality
Half fantasy version of time
Months feeling like hours
But unrewarding years all the same
Childhoods disappearing into insomnia
And I'm not very hungry
And I don't want anything for my birthday
Kind of aloof answers
We get it
We're all just tired

Tell me what it is
About the stillness of autumn
That induces a numbness in our hearts
Watching our desires blow away with the wind
One by one
They sing their remorse through aeolian howls
Uncanny and ghost like
Or the early nightfalls
That strangely feel more intimate
Than our last touch did
A type of familiarity rather profound
And lacking in any form of resentment
Maybe it's the significance in vulnerability
The stripping away of irrelevant priorities
To see the real
To see the roots

Tell me what is is
About the trees
Dusty grey and gloomy in October
That soothes a tired soul
A vagabond in search for more
And a heart a little too in love with loss

Magma slides down the throat
with little ceremony due to its rote
Smoke jets out in inky knots
from flared nostrils, scorched slots

Calefaction pulses past my chin
Napalmic streaks skitter across skin
The very air begins to reek of roast
a smoldering declaration, coast to coast

The sun itself settles in my solar plexus beneath
As I speak, eager flames spit past my teeth
Steps I take, to unjust enemy and cunning foe
impale the ground, utterly melting it below

Feeble are the ones who seek dispute
Mighty remains they who tread the path of truth

Their swords are in hand, stained in slayed ignobility
aware of wickedness and its toxic capability

Let the ones who seek shelter under darkness, under gloom
behold the justice and power of light, upon doom