Death shall
Breathe here
When sitting
In this qiuet
Electric chair

You're like that little bit of juice I thought I had left in my cup.
Foolishly I reach to take a sip, but it is gone.
Then you're like that candy that doesn't really taste good.
But still I continue to eat it anyways...
Sometimes you're like the rain.
I like the smell of it. I like the sound of it.
But when I get caught in it; I end up so cold and I am left ashamed.
And at times you're like thunder...
Kind of like dangerously beautiful.
You're like the mornings that I dread before sleep...
You still make your appearance and shine your presence through my sheets.
And at last you're like the night...
Dark, frightening, and qiuet.
Where no one knows the secrets, tricks and importance behind it.

In dank imprisoned mind,
cellared,
thrown against a wall
by guttering candle,
huge monstrous thing
clawing at the stone.

On palmy beach, timorous,
hiding in sand, stored
Under feet in noonday heat.

Drinking wine with
the moon,
the three of us
flaggoned,
aliened underneath arches,
faintly there, drinking
out time away,
girding our *****.

Merged with She,
sheet crumpled, replete
with lust.

In every space, nook, cranny,
in qiuet contemplation,
thought myself alone,

But you have never left me,
capricious, morphing,
paranoic delightful
shadow of mine.