spread…

I was never anything

so murderous

until i slipped out of my clothes

gently fell each piece to the floor

bare and daring

I gave myself

over and again

again and again

whatever I was looking for

it never came

with pink lips and

breathless sighs

I was never anything

as murderous as me!

 

 

 

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dropped…

She suppose
the drop off box is where
he meant to leave her
having finished his quick feel
it is an unwelcoming cold
laying in her core
yet, how indicative though
of this past year or so
having shown her
a repetitive model
cruel is the typical
facade of men
and thus turning her heart
into an unflattering muse 
lined of cold steel

til death steals…

cannot fathom such touch anymore
its meaning slit and deleted 
gone 
dissipated
desire
in the h0urs, days, months
lost track 
what is like anymore
in between the heat of thighs
moans and sighs loitering no longer
her youth stolen
her prime unwanted 
do they find pleasure in wasting her
no understanding of their inner working 
perhaps she has known all along
the poetry of being used
tossed aside
wasted 
unwanted
unloved
so offensive is she? deserving?
and yet she burns evermore
burn baby burn
Til death upon death 
steals this soul’s fire 

12:12 a.m. confession…

There was man who wrote erotic tweets. He was quite beautiful in words and he dm’d me a few times. We had exchanged poetry and conversations. The he disappeared for quite awhile. Until his alter twitter, which wrote beautifully erotic things too, had found my alter twitter. We had no idea who the other was until he dm’d me in the alter versions of ourselves. Of course he use very much the same type of M O. I giggled, letting him know I knew exactly who he was…I made him guess who I was in a quite amusing way by dropping hints. Laughingly sad he had not an f-ing clue who I was. I eventually told him. He only dm’d one or two more times after that, which I was totally ok that he didn’t hang around. Some people have no staying power nor loyalty. So tonight I am sitting here thinking about the last couple of years and thinking of my social media writing experiences, why this instance popped into my mind… I have no idea! Yet now, I am thinking what are the chances of that happening? Twice in the different versions of myself he came along. Apparently he didn’t find it such an extaordinary thing… 

a killing kind…

every word dissolves
leaving an empty page
substance starved of clarity 
lacking and uninspired 
no forms 
no signature
to derive pleasure
wind is the result
of failing wings
and silence 
is an oxymoron
you are just 
one more murderer 
injected into my blood

rupture…

I can’t be here
not as this 
too many drops
per square inch
in this storm

I splatter 
falling to earth
left run off water
into the gutter

that’s where it takes me
everything I feel
in the dankest place
dark and dirty
sewer swallows my hope

I am ruptured
nothing to gather
except blood in hand
unfashionable to taste
dry this rusted color 
burden hued
heaviness in your hand
simply wash it away
scrub hard…

yet particles of me will only remain
as you shake dry your hand
wipe it across your chest
parts of me absorb into you
pretend I am nothing once again…

but for a breath of a moment 
I was more…

more than nothing
yet not enough 
to be more…
not enough to be
more than anything 
but ruptured metallic
bits

sweet death of a rose…


May death be sweet
like that of a dying rose
past her prime
when molecular structure is chaos
and her heart only knows
to fold and shut in

each petal breaks apart from stem
her last vein severed
though her fragrance lingers
her perfume long lay breathing

shall you watch her 
release her frame
this life inside her aching 
to sustain her worth
and to what moment 
does she finally herald
love, let go…
(don’t…not yet)

May her death be sweet
inhale her one last time
achingly embrace her
beautiful loss in goodbye 
yet do not not leave her 
unattended in her decay 
wondering the reason
of her bloom
 

Don’t search for me…I’m too lost in music

goodbye
He is where I want to travel
away from here
don’t search for me
you aren’t in the music I seek
and that which I seek
is an unwritten score
I surrender too often
but what a waste of my love
tell the gods 
let me let you go 
I Am Heart Deficiency 
why should I keep going 
painting a fucking masquerade 
at the point of hating
this beautiful heart of mine
forming me into a killer bitch 
when all I crave is a beautiful love 
I am too much for you
I am all LOVE

ice cream not my first choice…

Sometimes
you need 
an escape
such as 
mind-blowing 
sex
or Thai food
or even
something simple
like a cup of 
jamocha almond 
fudge ice cream…

had to settle 
for the latter

was not  
my first choice

9:46 am confession…just another useless waterfall

I stand here questioning
every word of my slient voice
written to the heart of pages

what if my mouth is permanently numb
And I can’t skin you with my tongue

I claim to have this capacity to love
But what if it’s a lie? 
What if I am a lie?
What if I am not real ?
Am I only pretend?
just a fucked up aberration 
or typicality 
unwanted middle aged drab
aging perfumed water
my head spins straight to my core
my heart breaks every minute
in every beat
62 this last minute
splits in two chambers
or eight
Or 64
Unmeasurable hairline fractures

a two headed monster 
what if its always been the dominate Me 
repeated play of hurtful things

I keep seeking self torture
so very little recovery anyway 
so just hurt me
and hurt 
And hurt 
me over again 

never really have I been loved
a proper beautiful thing
only golden threads turn to rust
crushed in hands of would be lovers

Am I this unfeeling dumb bitch 
undeserving
sick and twisted
for my indiscretions   
All those years ago
weak and fettered 
lost girl 
finding and thinking
love between her thighs

how have I become this nothing of force 
just shattered mess of dark red glass
picking up droplets from the dirt
sandy grit having changed my shape 
my edges unable to fit together

incapable blend
sweet wicked berry juice
inproper fraction sips
incomplete whole

what actions
measures have I taken
keep swallowing
to seek and self destroy

Please don’t do it 
don’t destroy
I beg 
I beg 
my pauper cries out
A beggar for something
not ever certain
anymore

I am only good to avoid
as I hold stick glue
trying adhere substance to water

everything of my being
is really unremarkable 
for their absence tells me so

this dark breath sighs
and life I let run over me 
surrender 
let it interpret my outcome

take me
notice or not
numb or too emotional 
love or hate
what am I anyway
but a twitch easily flicked away
a decayed rose 
green thorn inbetween 
third and fourth rib
perhaps fire dying 
and water stilling
try to burn to rise
fail to drown to feel

everything
I am or not
as ever uncertain

yet even more so now
split and splayed 
fileted 
before
you