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"scummed" poems
my eyes tongues of desire a soft gauze upon drenched red silk stigmata a river of marrow flower of blood creel of moist honey hold not yourself apart I kiss your wound bell moon crescent ravine, dark tears like a spay of stars arched spine your raised **** like scrambled eggs curves to the heavens a steep canyon aching weeps blue darkness legs wide in souls shadowed grove tattooed pistols and knives pierced by my autograph for every letter, scimitars plunge   jeweled ******** ringed sweet tarnished petal gashed mouth; flower de luce memories that burn blotted like an eye in ink to fly winged ******* your face hieroglyphic of weird crimson smear; cackle with feet below hell wanting to live like fire in the sky hot witch riding a broom handle ***** scummed mouth the world soul destroyed paradise and your form hideous kisses falling red ribbons i am puddled; a runny yolk shameless for your open hollows
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Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Tongues of Desire
he came down out of the mountains came down out of the deity halls of the mighty rocky mountains riding a pale horse with a gun in his hand young to the eye but his truth is miles of darkness that few souls would dare he came into the ***** town and stepped into the waterin hole with a wary eye the crowd there was too involved in the young ***** on the stage in her various stages of undress in the various stages of her futile demise they are all dying down here in the flatland's some kind souls try and stem the tide but most just seek to sate thirsts before they go to the valley of death below he waited for the songs all to fade away he waited for the hungry crowd to seek another meal and then he came to her then he walked into her narrow visions he knew she would come knew she had nothing left here but the empty valley of death below he tossed the barman thirty pieces of silver and romanced the petals of her minds soft flower soft so kind and convincing to her unwilling ear she finally could no longer resist she scummed to the fever and he picked her up carried her to his steed rode slowly out of town not a soul saw him not a soul cared on up into the mighty rockies he rode with her still form in his arms into the bitter cold and long night an outlaw of the highest order one who has thieved from the kingdom below down in the valley of death below
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
rocky mountains man
Feet (Pisces) and death (Pluto) remain central to in born necro romantic impulses at the point of birth for certain souls. Pisces rules the feet and it is classically speaking placed in the 12th house of loss isolation, slavery and spirit. prepare for death arms wide like a big hug bend down low a spreading wide ritual of slow submission to better beg with kisses grotesque as her jaw juts upwards glassy eyed pupils posses me i kiss the curving bottoms of her tender feet and lovely beaten skin wrapped in cotton gauze to sop the blood shed like rip tides puncturing  just to watch the trembling ​scream my love like charred dolls in ribbon red molasses how tender and desperate as hemic tears fall like prayers down pink tremulous arches i break you my darling gashed pierced and scummed with a vice of knives and strangling wire till you give way marrow and brick my brave girl in swaddled jack knife stockings sacrificed to the shapless groves in a garland of lust insane for the  destination of glistening cocked Pharos her lust a moon struck gush in a wind of spinning fog and blood
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Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
Ritual: Venus conjunct Pluto in Pisces
Sometimes I feel so sick to my stomach, The little girl you thought didn’t understand what you were doing, Wilting red roses on your wall that you hung for years, Shimmering dark blue dresses in your closet, Ones you danced in, A stranger bought, You said mommy sleeps separately, He just a friend, The liar who hides, There’s a fraud in your phone, When he left you, You scummed to your hidden cave of things you couldn’t let go of, Piles of trash, clothes and dishes Unwashed hair, A little girl plays alone in her room, The sound of weeping from your abyss,   But that didn’t stop you, I’m nearly 2 decades older, Yet I still have to keep mommies secrets...
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Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
He Calls your Daddy a Friend