Tag: raw and unedited

words gusseted to broad cloth and burlap wrapped twining round limbs shot through holes of meager means woke to reality pinched my inner thigh where passion meets pain did my charm besmirch him, as eager to understand me… as i?

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collision course

Oh my. I think i said too much. I can be quite careless, sparked by passion. Lit by a struck match and ignited by fuel. Kaboom! I have definitely gone off in too many directions. Without giving away every secret attraction, i best quit while ahead of myself… wait for my senses to catch up.…

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Going through the motions

When your heart lacks love for today a mere shadow, chasing the sun away close the curtains ban the songs people got in your way. I remember a time -certainly now, not to be high perhaps it was last night the outline of a face traced in the dust, aroused. You wait for your ship…

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dark pleases light understands all. Embrace equally dark and light reciprocate a bad girl stockings ripped her material lifted high Fingernails -sharp sunk pleasure, all hers. He lay wounded cast aside -screams from the room above burnt heart and you can blame her like Adam blamed Eve take a bite, she begs as a stray…

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December 22, 2017

Photo modified with Pic Collage Beware the sun setting. This encourages the claws to rise within. Early this morning i was doing well. It is now mid-day. I feel myself sailing off into the abyss. This abyss is not heaven. Its hell on steroids. Whether its the packing up of my beloved writing room, or…

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she never remembers no matter -how many times did you tell her you love and adore the way she loves you back? she always tells you her disease possesses the curved back, spread skies and deeper still the open thighs. no matter, you have lost her eyes as she asks for the night wrapped in…

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Am i only here in dreams, voices calling me home? fate dropped me off at the corner i linger -waiting for you a void lives in this city night life no longer welcomes broken hearts and voices in dreams -scream.

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Maybe more -exists in the ruins i should pack up the shovel burn the map but -I am addicted in the worst way, your cold hands turn warm buried inside, lost in a labyrinth I call home. (Don’t shoot me. These are imperfect poems. Snapshots of a bruised soul. Sometimes surfing. Other times drowning.)

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