I sit at I home trying to get my **** together
I am out in the public trying to show that
I have my **** together
Some days I have my **** together better than others
Some days anxiety floods my brain
with thoughts that
swishes swashes and sway
in random unpredictable directions
These days when my **** isn't together
I walk in public faking the best laugh and smile
Happiness is a decision
but my happy is an empty piggy bank
that broke before it was even used

his fingertips as wild sparklers
his palms, wads of soft cotton
and the plateaus of his toiled finger beds
so his grasps -- stray, muddled, unintended
like paint swashes glazing my frigid worn skin
realeasing undue quivers down my delicate chine

I penned a pen bent out of my mind
asylum I seek, and of fetid dreams I reek
silence dreaded, but it seems it's all she can speak..

should have taken my time, but padded cells
they shook us to the core; in our loneliness
we held each other in embrace like no-one
has ever been held before; today I awoke
dizzy; confused, and admitted to another shore
one that swashes in pain; like an ocean of glass
and with each break, her memory shreds my heart like an open sore.

so I slowly begin to wash away the pain,
disaster being; my mind isn't even mine,
and it's always been that way;
even before I realized sanity was just a game
but in the grind of life,
it's a hellish reminder to not have been born very sane.

profusely I beg, and plead; but it's as plain as day,
she's never coming back; so slack, and bleed, and cut as we may;
administer the habitual as I plead and pray--
not to cut too deep; because this life
it's already taken most of me away.

Like an eager painter
I’ve splashed red across the milky white
Deeper in the center pinker as it trails out,
She loves the way the leather brushes her canvas
Stinging swashes and caressing strokes,
Her smile rings of joy where the moans cry out in pain.

There’s a twinkle in her eyes
Smallest pellet of tears working
Simultaneous with the pooling drenching tight clad cotton
I can smell Dior mixed with her sweet nectar,
Tickling the nose just over the bristles of my rough stache
And I return to my canvas, another broad swash,
Another clapping slap of skin to hide;
Echoed sounds reverb in stereo back tracked by the sweetest cry


“Please” isn’t a need
And barely a beg,
Show me with the wiggling of hips
Tease me with slight arches
Waft your *** to tremble my senses
Make. Me. Lose. Control.

She pants, heavy breaths
Shallow, quick - needing
The brain is in a fog - a haze
One tracked, foaming at the tongue
Drooling down her chin,
Flush ruby rose cheeks -
She’s fiending like an addict
Out of control convulsions when the brush tickles the warmth of wounds
She’s swooning with her body, slithering in silk sheets like a snake in sand

“Come for me”
I command it, not ask for it
I demand it, not suggest.
My fingers press against the fabric
And with one swift grip the cotton fails
Ripping from the wetted seams and drenched middle
Honey sticking to glistened flower petal lips
Looking like spider webs caught in rain.
How pink and perfect, dribbling uncontrollably-
She is ready.

I enter an index and *******
Folds gliding and inviting first and second knuckles in,
Curling down pressing towards the belly,
Opening and curling, come hither, follow directions
Make me happy, make me proud.
Make. Me. Lose. Control.

It doesn’t take much
The build was effective,
Her body was quaking for release
And as her body shivers and shakes
Her screams go hoarse,
Eyes roll back and sight nearly goes black,
Her core contracting like doing sit-ups at lightning speed
Her leather cuffed hands grasping sheets
We have reached the crescendo

And after the crash and clash
After the waves have passed,
A silent bemoaning remained.

“PlEaSe….”

And then I lost control…

~



And so it goes…
another sun, another day

Lost to the horizon’s constant appetite
for all that this sky above may hold
Thin and straight, never-ending, swallowing the beauty
that waits for us as we look up
only to follow the minutes
ticking away as fast as the journey

I have come to determine
one night sitting on the front porch
counting fireflies and missing you,
(tearing up for my impending daily loss)
that this place, this narrow slice at the end of this earth
must surely consist of multi-colored liquid

For the splash made by the sun
is more vibrant than anything I have ever witnessed
Staining the western heavens
with pastel swashes of glowing patterns
until the wash fills with shade and is
hidden by a new moon glow

and so it goes
another moon, another night…without you

~



And so it goes…
another sun, another day

Lost to the horizon’s constant appetite
for all that this sky above may hold
Thin and straight, never-ending, swallowing the beauty
that waits for us as we look up
only to follow the minutes
ticking away as fast as the journey

I have come to determine
one night sitting on the front porch
counting fireflies and missing you,
(tearing up for my impending daily loss)
that this place, this narrow slice at the end of this earth
must surely consist of multi-colored liquid

For the splash made by the sun
is more vibrant than anything I have ever witnessed
Staining the western heavens
with pastel swashes of glowing patterns
until the wash fills with shade and is
hidden by a new moon glow

and so it goes
another moon, another night…without you

Life is like a stream of gushing waters.
Yeah even a river that flows ceaselessly..
The waves swashes the waters,
and it is tossed
thro and fro,
yes even in an unperiodic manner.
The river of life never allows rest,
it has a lot to keep all occupied.