sex in your wordsI trip over the sex in your wordsit dancebeats each syllableinto the rhythm of submissionto your desireof thrusting or being thrustedplain letters drapedin shades of sultry blackonly visible to the connoisseurof linguistic lustwhile virgin eyes remain blindto their defloweringthe twist of your subconscious powerto exude your curvesin the guise of thoughtfulgenteel non-fictionI fall wantingly
petaled memories of a younger dreamerI miss the dayswhen I thought girlsfelt like roses,and the rainwas my worst enemyI thought I'd neverunderstand a soliloquyin all its purpose andadulthood still loomeda distant thundering possibilitythe open roadwas a hobbyflipping cassettes in a carthat's no longer madeon a longer mountain roadthe time of lifewhen you believe finallyin what you never knewyou believed and friendslived wide hung closeI miss those dayswhen getting olderfelt new and whenI anticipated my firsttouch of a rose
sultry liquid powerfulsplashedintomy peripheraldark red satindraped on hourglasssultryliquidpowerfulmotionshunning the crowdin her stepsopportunityflows closerand I buy ita glass of wine
I've eaten PinocchioI've eaten Pinocchiono, I liedand yet, I'm growingsawdust and root smellI've been cut andlumbered forth on cold rivertowards blades of progress.I have been nailedto a framework for purposeof support and shelteryet the free sunwarps my self imageslowly twisting me awayfrom the spikes of practicalitysouls have walked my lengthextending and elevating overa choppy blue abyssI am their last connectionto soliditychoppedredtoppedstrike me over your harshestand I make kindlingof my kindredprecious and commonI am always felledand yet, I am growing.
slung daily around lifeslunghash by short-order spatulacrispy essence of her once liferemains softwhere she has not burneddailyrepeat the menuliving items of mundanitywork eggs shop sandwich commute saladnever the specialaroundworn dishwashed edgescraped for last hopeful tidbitsof savory choicelong past digestedlifeof late night hawksat the counter to preyher hands folded heavenwardsfor a saving tip
SnowOlivia lost herself in the snow. Sitting on the porch, watching the snowflakes fall from the Missouri night sky, she she let her vision drift into their crystalline reflections. They were the only things that the weak porch light captured. The yard, the garage, and the now-silent hen houses were as dark and elusive as the storm-ridden sky. There had been so many hours, and so many patterns since her father had left. She had spent days on the side of barn. With flourish, she could tell anyone who would listen on how the barn had been built, and how towards the southeast corner they had run short on longer boards and the pattern of the wood began to change to incorporate the shorter cuts of plank. One summer afternoon, she had lolled in the grass outside and realized that the wooden farm house had been built in stages. The cedar shakes of the kitchen in back of the house, while painted with the same paint, were longer and toothier looking than t
haiku- my Evelanguid August evestorm, ephemeral drops oflight, heat, hope descend.
to pleasureto pleasureyour tainted naivetéwith my darknessdisguised as a willingnessto indulgewould onlyfurther adelinquencyI denythe specificsare demonicnever worthwordsunless utteredin momentsof my touchfor thereinwould I liethe truthevilis only painnot enjoyed
challenge of highest groundtrying to imaginea slow single drizzleof you-carmel smooth delightwarm in circlestoppingglacial Everestthat is my perceptionmelt me
Gunshots from Tulips [Inhale. Exhale.]Only fools think of how the air was born.I scatter the sand to the lips of the ocean.The seashells and the corals could use the extraseeing as how I use mine on duplicate facsimiles,sitting on cloud clichés
Let's PretendLets pretend there is no one elseLets pretend that the only people in this worldIs you and meLets pretend that no one is watching usLets pretend that the whole world is our homeWhere we spend time togetherLoving every momentLets pretend that we have no worriesLets pretend that there is nothing to stop usFrom spending time evenOver seasLets pretend to be a coupleLets pretend that we are getting marriedYou in your suit and me with myVeilLets pretend to fightLets pretend to argueEven though in the end we want each otherLets pretend that every night is meant for usLets pretend that we have our dreams fulfilledYou have yours and I have mineLet's pretend we have a kidLets pretend we have something to callOurs foreverLets pretend that you and meAre always meant to be and that we always areUp above the world
every night my hair is falling outI have heard that in 7 yearsevery cell in your bodyis new& isn't it beautiful that it will bea body you have never touchedbut I know that when your brain cellsdiefall like ashes through your skullthey stay dead& I can never scrap the memories out of their corpses
emptier than my lungsall of my sadnessis in the cool ceramic curveof this jade-colored bowl,where a terrified question lies still.
lovertell methe new thinglike sweet fruit and charcoallike starlight and the skin between your fingerstell methe forbidden thingthat will unmake my beingthen wash me up on your fresh shoreswith the thing that is morning love
The Aegir TidesThe monarch's flock crowdsthe shell of cliffs with itsviolence, and with its rapepiercing the nests ofher bosom, the light withoutand the lie within,canon of shorelinesof broken ships and sailorsdashed along the cracks-perilous mansionwithout its windows intactas her voice strains throughspirits that permeategoing into ribcages andcoming out nostrils-winds of a sceptreswarm over her bereavementto reclaim its parish.
DarknessSomeone once told me:"turn on a light"Chase away the darkness with the brightBut here's a question for youWhat do you do when the darkness is the only thing that feels right.
Who Am I?Who am I?Am I my dad?Am I my mom?Am I bad?Am I dumb?Who am I?Am I my emotions?Am I my actions?Am I my devotions?Am I my fashion?Who am I?Am I my hate?Am I my memories?Am I my fate?Am I my glories?Am I me?What makes me
me?So what I'm human?They all are.What distinguishes me from them?Is it my scars?If we were all the same,we would all be robots.This isn't a game.All these things are for naught.What makes me is what I am.I am not flesh.I am my soul.So who are you?
Of Ink and ImaginationWhat are words upon a page?Are they the children in the sand, constructing castles by day?In the soft breath of the sea, are they the smiling faces that make the Sun so dim?In the moonlight, are they the lovers fiercely embracing?Low moans and soft caresses, are they the beads of sweat that drop from each pulsing body?What are words upon a page?Are they the girlish laughter that springs from a young lady's lips,after she has been kissed?In the wilderness, are they a small buck, still without his antlers?Sitting on alters, fed Ambrosia, are they the gods of the Mountain Olympus?What are words upon a page?Poetry, only poetry.
i just want you to know...if there were such a thingas a single word to describey o u , i'd use it.but when it comes down to it,you're not the type of persona lonely girl would write about.you're a nearly lost cause,pulled back from the brink of extinctionand saved from yourself.i know you've been sufferingfrom your own personal demons,they've been drowning youin the nightmares of the past lifethat you've tried so hard to leave behind. (but there's this thing about being unable to just forget things and there's this thing about learning how to remember only the good.)you've had your low points,but so has everyone,and just because yours may not beas tame as the average person'sthat doesn't make you the monsteri know you think you are.because you're not cold-heartedor evil. you're merely someonewho's had their fair share ofthe wrong side of the lawand everything that goes with it.you've made
RegretOnce, you were my everything.I was blinded by my need.How could it have ever worked,When we could never touch?You were my fantasy,My dream love.I still don’t understand whyIt had to end the way it did.Our beautiful loveSplintered into thousands of nightmares.I know I was the one to break it off,But I’ll always regret we changed so much.Why did you drive me away?Did I mean so little to you?Or could it be I dreamed you into being?All I have now are muddled memories,And more missing pieces…
A half visible mirage rots in broad daylightI think I fell down a holeThat was six feet too deepAnd I don’t knowIf I want to climb out anymoreBecause it’s so wonderful down here where the starsNo longer hold meaningAnd voices can no longer be heardOver the sound of decaying matterWaiting to be recycled
constellationslove,They say you are beautiful, and there are nothing but black holes in those sweeping nebulae eyes, yetstill my sunburned eyes couldn't resist gazing at your trail ofstardustwhen your footprints left shining scars on my broken earth-bound heart
Diaphanousmy heartis fullof breathless shadowsthe loneliness eludesyour death rattleso serpentineembraced in entropyI am enthralledwith the way you bleedthe only ancientand natural thinga relic from when we spread thoughtand not diseasea war just as trivialas peaceits murderer is finalitya fatalism so blind and perfectedjust and faithfulin our torturejust and faithful
Ghostsin the pivotof a single minutei shrugged off a years worth ofwar scarsheart attacksburning eyesand lonely ghosts
It's late.It's silly becausei'm homewiping salt off my glasses,(there were tears on them, I guess)sitting downfor the first time in hours(after packing and wrapping presents and cleaning.)And i'm picturing youin your new roomtrying to sleep,failing,staring at the ceilingand not seeing the fan in the center(the old dusty fan I teased you about.)I know you're out.I know it's silly.I know you're with her,with your friends,and it's mestaring up at the ceiling(seeing things that aren't there.)
DeadYou see, when I realized addictions run in the familyMy sister went on another shopping spreeThen my mother said I was ugly and my father went back to bribing meThen I caught him inhaling cancerAnd that was the only answer I got to "Why can't you stop coughing?"I never understood her aversion to alcohol until I heard about her fatherAm I the only one that's bothered by the factThat she's sleeping on the couch because she doesn't want to sleep near mine?But it's fine because time flies when I'm downstairs, locked in the bathroom, putting pressure on my wrists, punching walls and mirrors with clenched fists just tight enough for nails to meet skinAddictions aren't limited to drugs and alcohol kidsHa kids
I'm a kid fending off dragons with razor blades, and nightmares with sleeping aids,Covering cuts with band-aids all while trying to get good gradesIt took me ten minutes to write a goodbye to everyone I owedNot my best friends, my true friends, some of which didn't eve
all consumingi don't like writing aboutyou, andwriting about wantingyou, 'causethe onlything i can seemto write aboutis youand your skin- Idon't want to writeabout your skin, don'twant to haveto sa
haiku- choking on hertangled in his throat,her ideal twists his vocalchords to rapt silence
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