"unmentionable" poems
**"how can you be in bed so fast?
we just got home five minutes ago?"***
*You got girlie stuff to do babe.
unlock the front door,
thirty steps
to our bed.
maybe stop to basketball shoot
***** clothes into a swish
of the hamper's netting
or,
maybe not.
turn off the overhead left handed in
a single motion, a highlight video,
both left foot socks
hid in the snow boots,
outside the front door.
you understand.
my unseen
girlie stuff,
requires me in state of ******
while you be
prepping.
face washed, creamed,
hair n' tooth brushed,
other stuff,
unmentionable.
am doing
my thing...
my girlie stuff*
starting a
poem interruptus
my pre-Coitus exercise,
just a new love poem
conception,
initiated,
doing my thing,
waiting on you
primped n'pumped,
décolletage clad,
to give me that
girlie stuff
closing stanza
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
the snow swirled around
like the carousel of her dreams
unmentionable
attainable
covered in frost
dusty frost
and all she needed was a hammer
to crack open the frightening lock
but she giggled
and her friend giggled
and the snow swirled ‘round
and they found themselves buried
gone
but they could see more
for what surrounded them was
transparency
clear as beaming sunlight
sunlight that shone light on their cheeks
and snow that filled their throats
with pain
under a lactating sunset
and the snow and the snow and the snow
which grew
which perspired
which hardened
which schemed
which never
ever
melted
so that deer tongues--
those sweet animals--
were the only products of fruitless searches
that locked the friends
together
under the brilliance of a muzzled rainbow
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC
My mother and I we can get along...
I love her and she loves me so on so on
Some days are good some days are wrong
The rolling eyes and sassy tone
They start it all, she explodes
It's so confusing to me not knowing when she'll blow
Lava comes pouring out with some unmentionable words
I've come to the conclusion my mother's a volcano waiting burst
But a nice volcano of course
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
*For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons...*
Beyond the blackest cotton glove,
the compulsively edited manuscripts,
unmentionable lines untrained ears love;
beyond the satin lining of a human husk,
the failing engine or cooing soul
nightingales smuggled in the dusk;
beyond asking how giraffes like to die,
the moon's waxing through a kaleidoscope,
eyes hollowing before hearts tell a lie;
beyond the manifestation of a mental illness,
the coffee spoon having no coffee left to measure,
an overwhelming sense of an unseen presence;
beyond where the orchard truncates its blossoming
is renewal of equality like an unmapped sea
spilling its welcome to a choked wish.
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
~
*When Pharaoh
checked out at the Red Sea,
odd circumstance made a grab for his vacant scepter,
and kingdom collided
with plague to paint a mural
on the palace wall (or maybe, it was the hotel lobby),
of a dreamer's garden,
his wife in veils, her dance a cordial
invitation to a great many unmentionable things,
the feral sky had blown
itself out, and in muted candle
nightshade, the mistress of war disembarked,
and so somewhere
in those upper rooms, ruler
and consort, hearing the sound of running water,
mystified their carnal
senses by infusing themselves
with a little vigorous morphine of the soul*
~
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 2:45 PM UTC
The Lung.
The broken bone branches hang heavy off knuckled tree. As cold and uninviting as wrapped meat in cellophane prison cells and those sweating milk bottles left on doorsteps. Women cry with the blackbirds as day breaks, rousing their reluctant nests.
As the shadows trawl in from chicken farms and slaughterhouses, across the squalid estates and past a debt collectors party. A ***** drinks his soot like coffee and waits for another years tide to retreat. Holding pith less ambitions and unmentionable qualifications, stewardess pass, uniformed thoughts and averting faces..
The rusty playgrounds sink into the fermenting wood chips, and a plastic bag runs through the scene; only to commit suicide in the oil ribbon canal. The chemical clouds thicken into a duvet of sky whilst arrows of a natural sun run home with tears of fear on their hot faces.
Down here the street lights flicker, and the patched uniforms drape off children sick with the flu that hit the school like a plague. Herding like cattle into the classrooms, to learn about the natural world
that is most unearthly to there reason.
Lunch bells ring from factories and the sky has drained to a sick -off white. The chip shop sells butties with no sauce nor bun, which machine like men guzzle and slurp.
The car parks lay stagnant in the distance and pigeons too fat to fly lay droppings on the bronze statue of a crying hero. As the roaring stops from the factories and high visibility coats are hung, the sky bruises and the men fill the pubs, until wives with children hung on washing lines drag there sweat soaked frames to the table, only to indulge them in a row.
Night creeps in, bringing with it the hooded figures that flutter along the streets. Music plays from a vacant building and seems to brighten the night.
A silhouette is seen standing on the edge, watching the busses bellow run like migrating snails, filled with the elderly and too young.
Cigarettes infest the streets creating a carpet of ash and litter. The city survives, remaining grey, never blinking, never heard.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 6:20 AM UTC
We loved them because
they loved to create.
A tailor and a builder.
made art from nothing.
Left a legacy.
Constructed beauty
from seemingly nothing.
Oh boys,
Our tailors and our builders,
Without you, we’d be sleeping just fine.
He blew her mind
Made her consult
With her old dear friend
Jack
(Daniels)
At hours unmentionable to civilized people.
Who indeed made her feel better
but also made her feel
Worse in the end.
He could talk real pretty things around my head
And I was hooked like a fish
It’s been 4 years and I’m still not free.
I’ve never met anyone so broken
And yet so comfortable with his millions of pieces.
He taught me to take the lenses off
And embrace this life, this love, this way.
Everything that happened before
Is over.
Tomorrow is just what we’re calling 12 hours from now
And oh, won’t those 12 hours until then
Be ******* glorious.
He molded her
Into a volcano.
The kind you see in middle school art class
That the kiln hardens
and it becomes supposedly unbreakable
Until one day, you find it has been chipped all along
[You did that to her, you know.
Broke a piece off her without even knowing it.]
Now that we’re older
they suddenly saw us
When before we were just the backing cast.
Made things that belong in the deep
Accessible to us without fishing lines
Now that’s just a cruel game to play.
It’s funny that it was
a tailor and a builder
who gave us the courage
to not need
to be built or tailored
anymore.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
Nowhere to call a home
Never a place to call shelter
Just a temporary sanctuary
Gradually being washed away
By the advent of time
And relationships
On the side of crossroads,
You'd miss it if you weren't looking
Plants break free of its walls,
Tearing it into pieces,
Reducing it to ruins
That is where my love used to be
Where it used to exist
The bottom cellar is where my heart
Used to beat, scream out it's
Intentions for the world to hear
Where I once knew that love existed
Now, those same walls have fallen
Ruined, the stones are chipped
Holes mar the surface
And if you ever step inside,
You'd see a great big emptiness
A muskiness in the air
Speaking about what used to be
Cobwebs line the ceilings
The floors, unsteady and weak
A little bit of sunlight filters through
Providing enough light to make out figures
A sadness sets in, a weariness
Felt through your bones
Dampness causes the wood to decay
A drop falling every now and then
Startling with its loudness,
Makes a puddle on the floor
That steadily trickles down
To what lies below
A despondent house, called haunted
By people passing, who happen to see it.
No one goes in, no one steps in
It remains abandoned, cutting an
Intimidating, haunting figure where it
Stands unnoticed, beside the crossroads
Unmentionable, unnoticeable
If you didn't know it was there,
Your eyes would pass it by
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 6:28 AM UTC
They told her
It was the unmentionable disease
Lung cancer
Soon she would cease
But she was only nineteen
Never smoked a day in her life
Hated the **** things
So as she lay
With a respiratory mask
Tears rolling down her cheeks
Dwelling on the past
Family surrounded her
But her dad was missing
He was outside with
What he couldn't live without
Inhaling the fumes he lit
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
You have these wrong judgements about me
And the haughty expectations.
I bet if someone asked a question:
"Do you know your daughter?"
You would say
"Yes."
After all,
You have lived in the same house with her
For sixteen and a half years.
But you can only begin to imagine
The life that I lead.
You know I am liberal,
But my feminist views would shock and disgrace you.
Get your conservative head out of your *** please.
And realize that I care about people
Not politics.
You know I was molested when I was young.
You do not know that a friend has since
Abused my body in unmentionable and uninvited ways.
But I cannot tell you this.
I do not want you to reinforce the idea
That I am overreacting.
You think I am selfish and that all I do
Is pick fights.
I'm actually terrified of rejection
And have minimal self-esteem.
You think that I enjoy going to church
But truthfully, I do not agree with their theology or interpretations
Of most things.
Plus, most Christians are hypocrites.
It is so easy to point the finger
Without actually spending a day in someone else's life.
Oh did I forget to mention
I'm bisexual, I drink, and I have *** before marriage
I'm not exactly up to their standards
Or yours.
This just scratches the surface
Of the reasons why you don't know your daughter at all.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
I decided today when I woke up
To write a poem for everyone
I'd start off with the very old
And end up with the young
In between I'd have kings and queens
Along with a peasant or two
A genius with a dozen degrees
Even a few without a clue
For the in-laws and the outlaws
Though at times they act the same
If right now they're sitting next to you
No need to mention names
I'd also write it for the Catholics
Protestants and Jews
So as not to leave anyone out
A Methodist marching band with kazoos
What would a poem for everyone be
Without rodeo and circus clowns
The ones that paint happy faces
Over the top of their life's frowns
The tall the short and skinny of course
Those that are tipping the scale
Which these days are most of us
But let's not dip into that well
And of course I can't leave out
All the gays and all the straights
Who never knew that they were straight
Until the gays knew they were gay
I guess we've all been labeled
I really don't mean to offend
Oops...I almost forgot to include
All the mustached women and hairy backed men
If you find you weren't in here
And think that your unmentionable
I'd like you to know my friend
My rudeness was unintentional
You may take this poem for everyone
And do with it what you wish
Perhaps the closest receptacle
Where it may join it's friends...the trash
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 8:42 AM UTC
Sounds rather risqué, right?
Like an unmentionable body part.
Not a person you might care about.
No the other half of your heart.
Not my partner or sweetheart
Not my husband or my lover.
Any of those titles above
Will appropriately cover.
No, they call me your friend,
Your little buddy, your ‘thing’.
That last one I always suffer
As particularly insulting.
But, not my watchacallit,
My whatever, or such euphemisms.
They hit me like less than kind
And disapproving colloquialisms.
I mean, how would you feel
If I referred to your wife like that?
Calling her your sidekick or
Something like a stray cat?
I have no problem with asking
How my honey is doing today.
After all, that’s really who he is.
He’s my sweetheart every day.
So, think for a moment, please
Before you begin to speak.
Your lack of sensitivity can
Only make you look weak.
Just because we didn’t choose
The path you chose to take
Doesn’t mean you’re better than I
So, give this bigotry stuff a break.
He’s my partner and sweetheart
He’s my husband and my lover.
Any of those titles above
Will appropriately cover.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
Cloudless confusion blows through the dead mind's sky
All eyes envying the ever nearing end of time.
This constantly reccuring thread.
This secret sentence meant to reinvent this magic.
It is a morbid mirage.
Murdered marriage
A massacre, unmentionable.
Mesmerizing sobriety,
Majestically marauding science.
Mindless moon born madness.
Inner sinner-inner sanctum.
Sheltering some malevolent Mysterium.
This thoughtless thirst for sanctity.
The shapeless shadow wisps which whisper.
Shock of spewing blood against a backdrop of white.
A keenly edged knife ********** grins into milky skin stretched tight.
The shifty sorrow of quick fading light
Deep down dig of fright
Straining: fighting with the last vestiges vanquished
The swallow of sentience, this last candle scarcely alight.
Burial romance.
This slow turned page.
Slow revelation of cumulative age.
Empty vessel volition withering onstage.
Don't weep this ****** burned
This solace we've earned
Good sense long past spurned.
Sadistic disaster our honey and sugar.
Outlined by the end
The smile of evil men.
Sad string stung, star struck spirit spun.
The voice of Us long undone.
Screaming chorus Kingdom come.
Seance chorus all wanting some.
This cracked Kingdom collapses
Each moment which passes
One last squandered synapse and then all falls quiet... at long last.
My lunar goddess
Lunatic
******
Murderess that got it
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
I am not interested in you view on life
Sure I was once upon a time
But it has been to clear for to long
The un-Godly time unmentionable
that you and I have blasphemed together
Sure you say you have yours and on the other side
You are a babe again
Then, well so what
what am I
here now
thee unmentionable time
where the dead prescriptions
are busy being written
as stories
for grave stones
where you have a world
for babes
that are better not born in
not your own
no one
thee unmentionables ours
or who'd dare claim them
Tell me something new
for my own sake
the children's
or from yourself
and I am ears
I am heart
Love
forgiveness
Yes **** it
I could be interested!!
Not in iced over cakes
that have their day
and nonsense
and spend eternity as
death
and decay
Or non-nonsensical romantic fairy tales
I'd dare not tell the precious young
Where sugar and spice is only nice
And the end is already written
in the beginning
I guess so sadly to say
we are so beyond that
but for differing reason
Mine is already stated
Yours is self pity and hell's
fury and justifications
Tell me
Show me
Something NEW!!!
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
ya I'm wondering searching for something I can't find
and I'm just pondering wondering were is my mind
yes I see a beam of light that'll surely mesmerize
ya in day and night taking this **** world by surprise
and the new moon in her eyes glistening the night sky
yes its no surprise life can't truly be analysed
well some dwell in it, some just don't want it anymore
just break free deception, specimen of perfection
yet I know what it was for, lost it, find its lament
this pale fragments of porcelain skin fall to the floor
and drift away into the wind to be seen nevermore
and the circumstance of this romance for life is
it can cut like a knife, lift to unmentionable heights
you take a long stroll in the maze of a twisted mind
oh how they quandaried on how it would unfurl in time
so spacious liviacious an endless strain on the mind
oh I really wonder will it rebuilt it self in time
yet I'm just pondering asking the world why so many lies
see there's a crack of light through this dismal dark night sky
oh how the fire dances in her eyes, as my mind now fries
the new moon in the night sky glistening in her eyes
we say your goodbyes to what you always thought it would be
so sad to see modesty might be the end of me
oh it may just be the end of me this time, nothing' inside
how some dwell in it, some just want to live delusions
my conclusions a dillusion with no solution
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
This debilitating cynicism leaves me throwing fists,
blindly, unkindly I deliberately hide so that you cant find me.
Unmentionable, the seeking of attention that we require,
and I impede my own desires with a silent fear of fire.
Hold me higher than your loved ones,
mask my bad intentions.
I wish I was as pure as my lustless suggestions.
You try to fall, I’ll hold you back.
I surround myself with your artifacts.
My mind wanders with a sense of urgency.
I watched you fade away from me.
I discreetly try to imbibe the origins of your resentment.
Above me you reside as I strive for mere acceptance.
Escaping dignity, I ruined the bridges I built,
and bruised by your excuses I melancholicly wilt,
condemned by a guilt that I can’t abandon, My love for you is more than a fandom.
I’ve derobed your more times with my eyes than you have with your paws,
Our time together was macabre, Showing all of our flaws.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
I’ll always be the poet but never the muse and very rarely is there an inkling for anybody to wonder about me as I splash ink across blank pages, amid the sheer chaos of sorrow and tranquil solitude.
For somebody to feel each character, pulsing through their veins, losing their breath as I run through their minds with heavy hands and fingers that twitch in the same way that mine do.
With emotions like an ocean that I can no longer mute or the sharp edge on the tip of my tongue that bleeds every last syllable that echoes silently, the ball-point tip that illustrates each pronunciation that slices through paper like a blade.
Nobody has ever twisted my name between metaphors in the same slight manner that I do theirs or felt the lyrics to a love song coursing through their body. I’m never the topic of choice but rather the broken genius behind hidden artifacts. Always the antagonist but never quite the protagonist.
She who shall not be named, the unmentionable mystery that crafts paragraphs from concepts, the storyteller but never the topic, building herself upon beginnings and endings.
I’ll always be the poet but never the muse, pouring out my guarded heart and offering a glass to whoever will listen.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC
Each button
Of the elevator
Is lamented with the misers
Of religions rejects
To see the
Face of a man
Forgotten in time is
To look in the mirror
Every waking morning alive
And well until you are no longer
The centipede creeps
Like rain wet fingers in the
In the depths of a mournful jungle,
Swearing that the good times are ahead
Of them if they can just survive this summertime
Entranced, we mention
Gods but in our
Dreams only can
Imagine ourselves
Freud said
Something like that
But he's dead
Long gone
Living in books
To be:
Misinterpreted
Misspelled
Misused &
Manufactured
For future generations
Of blood thirsty swine
Wiping their ***** with
Hundred dollar bills and
Ingesting 50 cent pieces
Just for the hell of it
When the night finally falls
And love subliminally dies
The circus will stay open &
The ferris wheel will continue
To spin and spin and spin
I like the
Way you
Brush your
Hair after the
Nightingale sings
I like the
Way you
Say you
Never hated
Until
You
Met me
I like the
Way you
Make up things
That are
Seemingly true
But when the
Do needs to be done
The only way
You act
Is Blue
And the separation
Of ourselves
Is left
To the open road
The naked toad
The unmentionable node
God's broken big toe
"The Devil made me stub it,"
The friar said to brother John, "We got
To get out of here, we don't
Have very long."
Press my linens with
The soft ****** hands of angels
Let me pray for my own sins
My own low down ***** miseries
As we walk to the top of the hill
We think we are entering the right realm
There are secrets in the stones
In the rivers
Within the leaves and the branches
Of every living tree
Listen
Hear
And learn
To believe
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
I have done so much in this life...so many battles have been fought. Barely escaping the cold hands of "HIM" at the dusk of every ****** war...I came home to you. Only to be rediculed for my absence. I give you pounds of gold and take for myself a coin...but that wasnt good enough for you. Misery. How i wish i could escape it...and yet...i love it. My soul is battered and torn. Unmentionable immense pain. It strengthens my spirit but deteriorates my soul. Who is to heal this old soul? Who is to lift the veil of the worlds allowing me to dive deep into the waters of satisfaction?
She will be beautiful. Goddess in every aspect. She will hold me to the skies and pray aloud for a healing rain.
She will be the night sky to my moon...allowing me to be noticed once more. She will be the Sun to my day...allowing me to flourish and reflect her light upon me...making the clear night sky shine. She will balance my strength so I am not overwhelmed by my fears. She will be...
You
Fitting the discription of all I ever wanted
Owner of the glass slipper
All I ever needed
All
Armor of
Loves
Light
You are the armor for this knight. The reason why I challenge the beasts. Without you...I have no purpose. I have no goals. I am just a vessel. I give my life to you. My ALL. My dreams, my mornings, my identity, my leftovers and the first bite. You are my everything...I love you.
Will you marry me?
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 3:30 AM UTC
did you take your meds?
remember you glasses?
forget the theater tickets, again?
why are you doing up,
poetry writing, you idiot at three am?
*** you didn't, did you,
vote Republican again!
since when are jeans and your
good sneakers
"dressing up,"
even in your absurd notions of fashion,
when you are taking me to the Opera?
any idea where the vanilla fudge pint went,
you-on-a-serious-diet-BS-not?
you lost a pound but forgot to mention,
you gained three immediately thereafter?
your wet towels to the hamper make it,
but your odiferous socks and disgusting underwear are just
too much for you to bear?
she's a pain in my side,
and other circular places unmentionable
but most of all,
most happily,
she's a pain always,
*on
and
by my side*
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
To be honest,
I cannot say I miss your crocodile smile
Or the way your breath creeped down my neck
And gave me goosebumps.
I could not decide if they were out of excitement
Or out of pure fear.
You took a walk with me,
Said all we'd do was talk.
Or maybe kiss.
You lied.
We ended up in a staircase.
"I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable"
You said with a flicker in your eye.
Yet part of me knew you were being deceptive.
That doesn't matter.
I told you from the start that I did not want to sleep with you,
And yet you tried to pry it out of me.
I still would not let you go that far,
But you had me preform other unmentionable acts with you.
I could not escape if I wanted to.
The texts, the grabbing, the coercing, the mean spirited teasing.
It was Hell from the first hello.
Two friends of mine had died the week before,
I should have known when you became so concerned with my well-being,
That something was terribly wrong.
You never held stock in me before.
We have not spoken since,
Yet, you have the nerve to text me
You tell me you're sorry
That you were a ****
I say, you were a **** and a half.
I know this was another scheme to get your way with me,
And frankly,
I don't miss our "friendship" anyways.
Not even a little bit.
No one knows what really happened.
They called me a **** a ***** a *****
All they know is that we did stuff,
And I told you off
When you would not stop bothering me about ***********
Then you went after my emotionally unstable friend,
And she was not so lucky and strong as to tell you
"No."
We both lost friends that day.
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
Under the wires
with all the beautiful men
gods gone under under the gutters
culverts overfull overly discarded the
crux or crutch core of ultimate beauty and
discarded power in blasphemed curses of harrowing tales
of more horrible horrors too to overly too harrowing to be forgotten
but still and still and again and again the beauty and beauty the love and power
the pain the harrowing silent pain silently swallowing of the most horribly wasteful
distasteful disgraces unmentionable not upon a tongue but a single one alone disgraced
by some mass illusion of the collective disgrace as if cast from some garden not here at all times
not at hand but by our own here now by each our own; devils/messiahs either all to real or what ya kidding man...
another harrowing day
with the beauty and pain
of beautiful man
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
My space ship ran out of control.
Hit planet Earth and made a hole.
Found myself in a forest.
Little beasties running free.
Some of the last ones left I'm told.
My comrades from space told me, or at least that's what I think they said.
Heard crazy monkeys making echoing sounds.
I started walking across the forest floor.
Walked and walked and walked some more.
I got to a clearing.
There I found a war of a peculiar kind, a little unfamiliar.
Strange creatures wearing weird clothes.
Looking a little like space folks in the highest fashion trends.
Very bright and colourful within their PPE.
Walked a little further henceforth, encountered death.
Thousands of poorly beings, awaiting **** or cure.
I wasn't sure what on earth was going on.
Got to too close and now I'm one.
A sickly being sneezed at me.
Covered me in other unmentionable body fluids.
Now although I'm feeling rather ill.
Had to get back to my spaceship while still I could.
A couple of hours of rapid repair.
Fired her up away from there.
Ebola became universal.
(C) LIVVI
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
Pasts of myself
Reflecting off the bookshelf
A naked truth of original sin
That every time I look
I can't help but laugh
In time there was a truth
And in present there is only this
A hope to see you again
A breathe where there is no
Exhale or inhale
Only the breathe you were made
To believe was real
Sitting atop my bookshelf
Sits the faces I cannot recognize
In dreams they come back to me
So I know I will never be free
Each birthday the shadow of celebration
Makes my heart tear when names mentioned
All forgotten
Where once I was near walking
And dreams are
The oil that slicks the road
The ribbit inside the toad
The unmentionable code
A crazy pattern not sewn
Sick tired suffering nodes
Realizing that no one ever really knows
There the faces float
Each eye a time long past
And though moments pass fast
With struggle the warmth wanes
Bringing a pain that dances profane
Pain doth not mean an untimely death
For these faces do not bring life's theft
Start anew from a new bookshelf
Touch a heart that has not yet been felt
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
They call me into the room
They absorb me into their essence
I materialize into their being.
They say
YOU WILL MARRY ME HERE!
I wake up from the dream.
I still feel them holding onto my inner thigh
Grasping
HIGHER
until literally they are squeezing my unmentionable
I lay in apathy
I notice I'm alone, in my room.
I have no fear for these entities
quite literally I could care less
When I die I will be
FREE
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC