"mucous" poems
My skin is cracked
pulling
split apart
Mucous forms, blood bubbles
fat popping
skin
melts
Hair afire!
skull snapping
arm bones
charred
Collapsed in two
scream fire
body
sinking
To Ashen State,
To Ashen State,
Immolation
To Ashen State,
To Ashen State,
A Man cannot be the Sun. *
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
O It’s Nice To Get Up In,the slipshod mucous kiss
of her riant belly’s fooling bore
—When The Sun Begins To(with a phrasing crease
of hot subliminal lips,as if a score
of youngest angels suddenly should stretch neat necks
just to see how always squirms
the skilful mystery of Hell)me suddenly
grips in chuckles of supreme ***
In The Good Old Summer Time.
My gorgeous bullet in tickling intuitive flight
aches,just,simply,into,her. Thirsty
stirring. (Must be summer. Hush. Worms.)
But It’s Nicer To Lie In Bed
—eh? I’m
not. Again. Hush. God. Please hold. Tight
8.9k
we were the bomb squad
a tribe of children in
plastic crash helmets
pillows tied on
to protect our insides
holding hands to keep
from feeling lost and alone
we were the bomb squad
living like thieves in cardboard caves
beside the mine fields
hidden beneath beds of poppies
decoy explosions
in cadmium red *****
tender tongues
like kittens licking
the insides
of trembling thighs
we were the bomb squad
mucous membranes and bones
tick tock throats and veins
popped in the pyre
stomach bile and marrow
all up in the same smoke
as something that was
once smooth and sentient
we were the bomb squad
we found no time for any flag
nothing to do with kings
or foreign countries
just the knowledge
of not having known anything before
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
i'm sorry
but im going to devour you
like toast with butter and jam
let go to me
lose your self in the exaltation of suffering
albeit a difficult pleasure
feel me ruin you with every strike and stroke
blister tear and pierce
a quandary of liberation bleeding
take more then whats dished
ill turn you into a gushing river of squeals
and filthy verse
i'm in love with your ****
colored almost purple
like a wild mouthed poem
make it kiss me
let it eat my face
its more beautiful then an Hawaiian sunset
more tender then a baby lamb
your sweet lipped *****
a buttery sticky bun
its drools liquid diamonds
i'm sorry
i hit your **** so hard
but they bounced and bounced
and it drove me near mad
so gorgeous bruised and bleeding
casaba torrents
all hot stings and sweet
you stand glorious
between beauty and annihilation
your mouth swollen from being slapped so hard
nose bleed and mucous
your eyes enormous wombs
like fingers touching me
oh baby
im sorry
your tears imploring
pleading and drunk
on hair pulling frenzies
curse my brutish rampage
of *** gone mad
turning your body
into clouds and red splash ribbons
don't be sorry
she said
with pursed lips
your rabid hunger my own
i am an abyss of dark desires
a savage wraith
i want to kiss you like a lecher
all ******* and cherries
with legs squandered wide
a Halloween grotesque
with a ponytail
are you going to eat me
like a communion wafer
okay
if it will save you
am i not a saint of lust
"There is no greater love
than to lay down one's life for one's friends"
john15:13
so have your fun at my expense
make me your house of horrors
greased
for the scalding of your whip
ill be good
please do your worst
and ill show you my best
promise me
pretty please
kisses and cries
rainbows and ash
blistering ecstatic
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
I try and I try
To avoid,
But I'm inundated
With that which
Is neither
Created or destroyed,
Being told what should
Matter to me
By people who know
Better than me,
Keeping me
Steadily annoyed
And readily brought
Right back to the void
In the back of the 'lac,
Like the goodfella boys,
Except I don't make noise
So they don't need to hack
Me up again.
But hack me up again,
I want to be the
Rough,
Gravely cough,
And the disgusting
Glob of
Post cigarette
Mucous
From your throat.
I want to be
The mold that
Spreads on the half
Bagel with cream
Cheese on it
That you forgot
In the back
Of your fridge
Two months ago.
I want to be the
Little puddle of
Fluid in the bottom
Of the trashcan
On the side of your place
That you've never cleaned
Out.
And then I want
You to clean me out.
Steal everything
I own, take
Until the load
Is too heavy for
Your arms, and then
Come back for more.
Break everything
That I love
And have owned
For years and years.
Take my money
Especially, it has
Spoiled my karma
For far too long.
Then we'll be even.
Then I can become
The rays of sunlight
That float in through
Your window every
Morning and catch
The floating dust in
Intricate, glowing patterns
And reach your closed
Eyelids, where I delicately
Dance until you awake,
Refreshed and thrilled
At the beautiful
Day that awaits you.
Then I can become
The buzz of your pumpkin
Spice coffee and the
Taste of your breakfast,
The wind in your hair,
The warmth of your bed,
The cool trickle
Of sweat down your hot neck
While we neck.
Then I can be your happiness
And it can be your turn
To be the slime
That coats my
Garbage disposal.
We can seesaw
Forever,
And feel complete.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
a mishap fudged together in a blur
by the onerous fate autonomy
a throw away girl
death addict
in a racket of echoes
fingernails
******* and spit
for relics of witchcraft
in a foot licking satanic ritual
she picked him
like a con mark
for the realization
of her shadow dream
to escape from form
in a shaking bed
spread herself wide
feeling the black sound
like musical water
to drown in
with weight
that holds immovable storms
of brazen villain's and glistening *****
who pumped her mouth like gas
for obliterations throat bashing she loved
causing the hideous end of herself
splayed straddled a ****** archaeology
of kisses withering in an ancient pudding
razor peeled ******* blooming
betrayed whorish curdling screams
in a deviant propulsion
glitter mucous and blood
drizzled from her lush red smeared lips
with tears of mascara
in a ghoulish basement
an object of desire for demons
on the ceiling
she abandons all hope
lubricated her **** and ****
opened her thighs
for a freakish novelty
of soaked vibrating machine gun tongues
for a hemorrhaging orgiastic suicide
her blade slit tongue
still undulating
and pinned it in bits
to a **** toy
******
for valentine's day
her love and guts like a buffet
glamorously featured
with photo pics
in Mademoiselle magazine
smiling cockeyed
drugged and staggering
she put a rope
around her neck
as if in an embrace
and blew her brains
a spiraling horror
of diabolical appeal
in a ghastly enterprise of roulette
of pants off dance off
scattered gauze bikini
and a head wreath of hair
glittered like a half-eaten pomegranate
under disco lights
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 12:01 PM UTC
O, river
that has washed so many sins away, where catfish without two heads are freaks, while bible printing paper mills host their conventions in vegas;
flow free and clear again with one-headed rainbow trout.
O, brown sky
that falls beneath the weight of strip-mined mountains of coal black as industrialists hearts and rains enough acid for a very long strange trip to a grateful dead show on the jersey shore; give us again your sweet air and pink mares tails sailing by.
O, epa
where art thou while koch siblings pay lobbyists to paint your science a fuzzy shade of mucous green spat on the sidewalks of k street helping elect politicians whose sole job is to get reelected. Use the power of thy pen.
O, sea level
rise again to wash away our sins and start anew. Show to us good science.
r ~ 5/3/14
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
*I don't like him
He is a nuisance
I don't like him
I'd fond his death
I don't like him
I'd share nothing with him
I don't like him
I would like to gouge his eyes out
Until they pop.
Until blood-tears scream down
His ******* face
I form mucous to
Spit in his ******* snake face
I want to see bits of his skull torn out
I do not like him
I want to squeeze through my hands in the decapitated
Head and grab out his ******* brain,
Bits of his skull
I would like that.
Gone he'd be
I would like that
I would like to hurt him
I don't like him
I want to see all his ******* blood
Pour majestically out of every
******* opening, every hole
I see of his, I want his greedy black heart
Suffocated with cyanide
I want his poisoned soul *******
Burned until I smell
His burning, searing flesh
That screams with help
I would to do all of this and laugh and laugh
I wish he would realize how much he has gained
Then,
I will excrete on his ugly ******* red car.
I dream morbid, I dream morbid lovely thoughts to leave his
Lifeless whore-self in the ugly ******* red car
For him to rot he shall as a male-slag
A **** of degenerate foolery
Unjust as unwise, he froths degradation
A form of devolution,
As treacherous cliffs weakened
from sun and water
Treachery engrossed with black thoughts
As he falls he will bring all,
who he can find to fall with him
Drenched with whoreness
A ******* thought enriches degenerate
I would dream to castrate him
Destroy his club, **** the ******* worm
Turn unto ****
**Turn unto ****
Turn unto platter of wet sponges
Turn him into a casket of bleeding organs
I do,
I do not like him,
No I do not.
Filthy Male-Whore, ****
His corpse shall forever mold with self-hatred
Disgusting waste of gluttonous entity.
Biological waste universal waste
I do not like him
Blood chunks pool over out of his skull
I do not like him, All his filth-blood
Dried out, I do not like him
Tongue pulled out, neck snapped
Brain matter scooped out, the ******* worm
Thief, Cheat, Male-Whore. I do not like him
But I do not hate him.*
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
Lead through the hospital house,
where residual ashes of Zeus
lay in heaps at broken corners,
coating derelict floorboards.
GO! The purple ball of light
is waiting.
Enter the hall of purity,
filled with macaroon sorrow
and empty thoughts.
Athena stands on the right,
her head upon a serving dish.
Listen closely ...
A distant phone
in the darkened cove
is ringing.
DON'T ANSWER IT!
Beware a nurse on the left.
Recognition of her temporal existence
permeates through mucous membranes.
Notice the stillness of air.
Breathe it in, it does not flow.
Follow through a doorway
to the kitchen.
Silver pans (or chimes?) (or bells?)
hang above a perfect sink
while droplets of blood
incessantly drip, drip, drip,
falling from a crying wrist,
gently striking the sink bottom.
Plead to not be forced
into the room of mistaken hospitality,
where beds of white cotton
invite with chanted whispers
the compliant to lay exposed.
View the ceiling from this
submissive position.
It yields confusing colors of light:
- Red wine
- Blue water
swirling together
and forming indistinct patterns.
Fearfully watch as a waxing
flying caterpillar
emerges from the purple swirling porthole
and craving intense gratification.
It will consume the laying prey
through frantic silent screams.
Feel the edges of a harsh cocoon
woven around the bed.
It traps with silky wings
and trembling agitation.
Do not scream
Do not cry
Do not try to fight.
Allow icy numbness to spread
and entertain immortal abandonment,
for who would understand?
- Kerry Ann Herrmann
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
I tell you all
I lost my soul one morning in October
still i can feel it trembling
with the mucous in my throat
the liquor coating of an empty stomach
denying re-entry
an expatriate exiled to the outer realms
the cells spoke to me in my elusive haze
what atrocities you brought with you the night before
volatile liquids
and billows of chyme decaying smoke
it was you who erased that patch of flesh from your cheek
the sidewalk merely a catalyst
a surrogate mother to your infantile stupidity
fathered by a not so impotent bicycle
what became was a dance with gravity
and you tried to take the lead
but that possessive ***** refused to give it up
and in a drunken stupor
thrashed you about
leaving you to the jagged teeth of concrete
costing you some epidermal friends
those whose sole duty it is to protect us
and your foolishness allowed their dismantling
so now we allow yours
so they did
with one swoop of my head
my body purged my soul into the poisonous sunlight
my brain a series of bombastic drum solos
i died there in my bed
soulless and aching
a drink in my hand....
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 4:26 PM UTC
God came to me one night
and said i'm reading your ****** up poems
don't you think your kinda sugar coating this stuff, gag head?
if your gonna write filth
you need to get a little more sex-centric
i like it raw
with hella lottsa kink
lottsa squealing
more squirting
blood tears mucous saliva
gag why don't ya
and remember ******** are used relatively infrequently
so don't get all hygienic on me
what did you think they are for the rest of the time
besides what's a little **** between friends
and what the hell do you think i sent the devil for
the little *****
PS
if you really wanna be reborn
slide up in that goddess ******
and you'll be surprised
how much better you'll feel
im God for god's sake
i already thought of every
despicable
voluptuous
deliciously disgusting
twisted
tortuous
tormented
sick thing
you could possibly wanna do
so get the **** on with it
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
Seven New Poems for Seven Days #2: Hover^
My Children:
Ancestral homes oft possess,
a unique scent, product of an atomizer, a memorizer
Musty time, the odor of
faded and shadow,
hollow, yet hallowed.
Somewhere along the road,
a residence transforms from home to
shrine-storage unit-hospital room-tomb-records depository.
Dust, expired perfumes,
the sweet odor of crumbling, yellowing books, disinfectant,
stale medicine chests, years of furniture polish, sabbath candles.
It is my smell -
the parfumerie of my history, a customized blend,
a commissioned work in 1964, entitled, more accurately, emitted,
"Her-Story."
Photographs, memories, and paper scraps
my very own Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
Yet the most potent firing pin for historical retrieval,
the molecules of scent.
Soon all will be dismantled, discarded,
just plain dis'ed.
Confused and disenchanted,
my departure orderly but, in a disordered fashion.
unable to seed one last kiss upon your forehead,
nonetheless, surreptitiously enter your neurons
though my entity, away, across the miles-wide Hudson River.
For three days, I will hover invisible,
implanting myself once more,
slapping your mucous membranes,
transversing this pathway, an additive to your cells, nuclei,
where my markers always reside.
Adding one more ingredient to your inner vision,
strengthening the formless structure, my altered state.
This odor, keep close, fresh, no becoming musty too, my scent,
the last of your senses knowing me, a true keepsake.
*Hold me close and hold me fast.
This one last magic spell I cast.
This one last magic smell I set fast.
You cannot hold it, but it will cradle you.
You cannot see or touch it, but when contact comes,
You will see me, hold me, as in the days of your youth,
When you loved me best,
And I, you.*
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
you leave your body only to look down upon yourself.
all you are is a pill.
small. homemade.
slight pink tinge.
but ya daddy couldn't make you right.
he was too poor and he needed the money quick.
so he found a quick fix.
mixed you up until that spark in you,
the spark people pay good money to feel,
was almost all gone.
but now you couldn't find the spark in yourself either.
you couldn't remember who you were.
and then some chump bought you for a hefty price.
you lay shivering and confused on his mucous membrane
while he waited for your kick, your spark.
he wanted something from you that you just couldn't give 'im.
it wasn't long before he realised he'd been ****** over
by some broke home-pharmacist.
meanwhile, you'd completely lost yourself inside him,
pieces of you scattered all through his bloodstream,
too disfigured to notice he'd driven back up to ya daddy's rugged shack.
kicked the doors in.
splashing kerosene like liquid confetti.
with just one spark ya daddy got dead.
and you were still stuck in his system,
useless.
you'll be excreted soon, like you were never even there.
good good,
'cause they don't get their kicks from people like you.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
I built myself a garden
I locked myself inside
All the flowers smelled like you
Until they released their pollen
And it clung to my lungs
Mucous lining my throat
Keeping me from breathing
When the blooms became overgrown
The vines creeped up my legs
Wrapping around my waist
And as the thorns hooked themselves beneath my skin
Poison flowing through them into my veins
Like an IV of pain and suffering
They pulled me around that god forsaken garden
Like a marionette of flesh, blood, and reluctant willingness
I remember the bees buzzing your name
Cheerfully at first
And then the droning became painful
Until my ears oozed
And my brain felt as if it would spill out from them
And when it did
It fell into a pile beside me
And it grew into tree
Releasing a new kind of oxygen
That clouded my judgement
I became addicted
I fell in love with being used
I fell in love with being blind
I fell in love with being broken down
I fell in love with the pain.
And when summer ended
And autumn began
The flowers shriveled
And suddenly I could breathe
And the bees returned to their hive to sleep
And suddenly I could hear my own cries for help
And the vines loosened
And the fruit the tree bore fell
And when I took a bite
It seemed to travel to my skull
And replaced the hole where my brain used to be
And
And suddenly I could think.
Suddenly I could understand
This wasn't love.
It isn't love.
So I ripped open my ribcage
And I tore into my heart
And pulled out a key
Covered in sinew and blood and fragments of the bones that grew a shell around it
And I unlocked that ****** gate
That had grown so small
I crawled through
And walked away
But after some time
The garden called to me
And when I returned,
Stupid stupid me,
I was reluctant
But the flowers smelled sweeter
And the bees were singing softly
And tree was in bloom
And the petals gently kissed the grass
And I let myself be consumed once again
But this time I had armed myself
And when the vines extended themselves towards my limbs
And the bees screamed angrily
And the flowers on the tree began to rot and die
I pulled out my weapon
I lit a match with the fire that was started within me
And I threw it into the center of the garden
And I burned that mother ****** to the ground.
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 7:47 PM UTC
Pleasantly i was presently an obese mote laughing in the chattering
orifice of this emerald ciTy amongst the hollow discharged oblong
fingers vomited of the silky concrete mounds dangerously apathetic
the fat grunt of youth grand and evilly blanketing the hard arteries speaking
slowly feet. about the whim of the hard towers skirting angelic ***** lilt
and milk there ******* of ****** mucous to drag masculine colours to their
heed. how drunk they were of lacy cotton fringes and damp skin collecting
dew drops hard lovely thighs flatulently billowing from their savage femurs
the cool common sky is generally heavy with gray makeup and tears softly
epic wails of wet teeth. they bite and nibble the brim of my umbrella. and moaning
******* capricious men proffer and spit elocutions electricly open hands
palming digital cracking whispering clouds of text. rapid eyelids turgid was grinning specifically at I "how about a light" "sorry I don't smoke"
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 2:23 PM UTC
Here, hold out your hands
Don't drop what I give you
Please don't be repelled
See? It's not so bad
Mucous and slime won't hurt
Blood and water won't burn
Do you feel it beating?
Can you sense its pulse of life?
It's living because of you
It feeds off of your emotion
But don't worry, it replenishes
What it takes, and more
What you give it will take
And what you take it will give
It will not strike out and
Will not harm you
You are in complete control
If you so deign to **** it
Then do it and swiftly
It will follow you and be yours
Forever and always
So as you receive my gift,
I ask you, please be nice
After all, it is my heart you play with
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Sometimes a fatted pig will wander off from the pen and find his way to the pond on the edge of the property. If it’s dark or foggy, he may fall in and sink to the bottom. Only later when his carcass has filled with methane and mucous will he float to the surface. You’ll know he’s been in the water for a while when you see the bloat, the blisters oozing, and the skin sloughing off in large sheets. Don’t go there. It might reflect poorly on you.
Ok. So you didn’t listen. You went ahead and fetched a stick and poked. And you were taken aback by just how easily it slid through his tissues, like the time when that pigeon alighted on your hand, and you were startled by how it weighed almost nothing at all. So to see what might come of it, you wiggled the stick, and suddenly what was left of the liver and kidneys popped up onto the surface and spit a stream of water into your mouth. They drifted towards you and away again, like your lost toy sailboat, the one that got off the string and floated down the rapids in Lucerne. Over the falls it went, under the covered bridge, and that was the end.
Of course you still eat blood sausage. Why wouldn't you? The texture is rubbery but the taste is well ….. like blood....so metallic on your tongue. But this blood will not wash away your sins. It’s more like Pepsi Cola, or maybe Mountain Dew.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
in god played undeath skips wildly disintegrating
tulips
sighing from the curtain of stars
hung loose
and laughing indescribably
immortal, f
o
r
tuitous of immobile light: a coma
from within belches the overlong trench of mucous silky
a
n d festering. in my mortal stillness
clasp the cold birds of winter, wings magistrating the currents
of first frost and
L
i
E
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 1:40 PM UTC
it was slowly hideous and more. the vapid skull was fragile
mucous glistening ostensibly of nasal passage and a flagrant
gesture mounting swiftly every coming brief second and
fornicating methodically minute transmissions of air of repugnant
lungs.
the heaving damsel broached or slippery tousled follicles limp
in arrogance foaled softly on her scalp. i maybe was and she
new. the sport of delicious fresh cluttered blood plump and
detestable in beneath the sallow rubber husk rubbing slickly
on the small walls particularly.
a
the. a(shade of yes(dribbles when the smacking rinds of lips
bubble sudden noise in. and a. a and. she smothers the babe
of silence in putrid vocal aberration fetid slop of words. temporarily
she is. speaking quickly and inviting me to the back little room
to weigh and measure large and pale the vestige of my i. take me sit
me in another waiting. another room of waiting. waiting. waiting
waitingwaitingwai"hello I'm Dr.Hanson"
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 12:51 PM UTC
Our land of opportunities had padded walls
A snaking labeled hall with numbered rooms
We walked in peace right through the door
But having entered, fought to the floor
Room one
Sit in the blood square
For five minutes
And don’t speak or stir
Her vision blurred from the palm pressing eye
Heavy because she had spit in mine
Sideways face in mildewed waste as legs and arms were trapped
Thrashing core meant bear hug wrap, job of five for three
Bites and banging bone on brick
Flesh in nails and teeth in kick
Gagging sputters mucous river
Choking, sobbing, cheek to dust
***** gurgle, stomach churned and arms made sore vibrations
Battle on, gnashed front bucks and saliva begged for hold
Gave up and gave in, counted and relaxed
But because of fatigue
Not because
She gave
A
****
Can you hear me in there
Slow down
Who am I
You?
Where are we
The oh-fucking-see
Center of calm in torrential tempest
Room two
Share my glare and ice your raccoon bruise
Dimly lit from lack of wit but process all the same
Careful frame to highlight spark of pain, making work from game
Criss cross apple sauce sitting in the rain
Room three
Her best attempt
Turn the time to line
She fumbled and forgot a lot but in the end was fine
Room four
Plan for pupil fish to return to learn
Apologize profusely and repair the damaging deeds
It was late so
I walked home
She slept in an office
And my skin healed eventually
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
A cancer's eating
Through our core,
With tendrils gnawing
Every shore;
A virus leaping firewalls,
A dis-ease too apalling;
Advancing by some sick allure.
No use in praying for a cure,
The saviour is the saboteur;
No vaccine can **** its spore.
Its mucous is racist;
Its nucleus is sexist;
Its atoms are prejudiced;
Its carriers are bigots;
It's hungering for more;
And it's at my front door.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Mucous trickling down my nose
Ice crystals forming twixt my toes
Mind juggling with full-blown prose
What a way to go?
Bronchial valves erupt from deep
Eyes blurring from lack of sleep
Insidious thoughts continue to creep
What a way to go?
Sinus passages gurgling to drain
Phlegmatic vocal chords taking the strain
Cranial neurons humming a refrain
What a way to go?
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
I imagine
your nightgown limps sadly against your trotting legs
The light becomes
choppy
Trapped between your gowns effortless sway
piouretting from
room to window
towards the moon
back to bed
where
snowflake kissed sheets grow
unbearably cold underneath the night sky's icy breath
Close the window
"Dont, pelase, don't..."
shivering,
The gown
a peek-a-boo
into skin that can't form goosebumps any more
peachy silk coating
flowers
stay still
plastered smiles across all of those
good God fearing faces
A fabric
Unfitting
for a mind so
chaotic and chemically smeared
In a funk,
a different time,
a different place
I've removed myself from the watches' ruthless reign
I'm a glazed donut
that look in your eye,
Where does it end?
a black pit,
a bottomless barrel
some
puny animal shot down in the middle of the woods
eyelids dry like pork rinds
Perfect loops decorate the top of your cut thighs
"Who's here to pet my hair?"
my hair,
as shallow as the shore's waves
unlike the deadly tsunami festering underneath it
Pet my arm.
Graze it with your soothing fingertips
Warm sparks fly madly
dancing atop
a cold log
deadwood that never made it past the beaches of your boundless regret
"I didn't realize it'd grow this quickly...
when I,
mentally shoved the flames of my disease inside of my mouth."
"I thought it'd...burn out."
"The pit of my stomach now filled with the flashing signs of panic and
puke"
All across the side of your bed
spines don't fall into any more
a dark room
"Who's here to make the noise to fill the empty caverns of my bustling brain?"
A dark room
Words fall into it
Stumbling across the bumps of your
nauseating hips
"Who's here to scream back?'
Laughter sounds so far away when I'm here in my timeless prison
Sun creeps out of the curtains
light falls like broken piano keys into you
mucous made mask
and puke
I couldn't find God today
and the Devil was swimming my cereal bowl
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
come this day with me and look upon the earth.
She is a wise
wide at the hip
deep into her
basin where
the folding occlusion
of her bulging lips
contain the
exstatic pearl of life.
she is full:
her thighs
abound over
in supple fat;
her moss is
golden she hangs
a bent beam
on the running
rill from her
cleft bump,
the hillocks
suffused in
grass rollick
and distend
pleasantly.
within where
the waters
part themselves
into blood
and wine.
Her mucous
is secrete:
it flows
en-opaled.
The eyes are for it.
The mouth is for it.
The hands are for it.
it holds wide itself,
(and tight and suffuse
and secretly languorous)
for all who would enter;
and ALL entering is here.
And leaving too
is here:
there is entering and there is exiting here;
one quickly after the other,
or at the same time,
or at neither--
entering and exiting all the same.
She is a worm hung
and in her cellar
is some moist rot;
but do not dismay
for as entering and exiting:
from rotting there is birthing.
And how we are born.
And how we come from her.
And how we come into her.
And are made the same again.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 1:38 PM UTC