 
## Mania

### Maria Morisot

### Cover Art by Moan Lisa

### Published by Moan Lisa Press at Smashwords

### Public Domain

###  http://maria.moanlisa.org

### Muse

Her arms stretched out to hold me,

as I place my head in both hands,

a trumpeter and the wood winds

scatter dust from both our feet;

and we dance, divining the character

of youth; we crawl on fours

through grime. Oh heavenly body!

Although I speak to her with

lungs diluted in ash, she listens

with intent heart. The words no longer

crash and burn, but they may; sliding

from semaphor and gout into long

halls of fantastic spear heads, forged

for the final days of man. Listen,

my love, listen; to the sounds of steel;

with workers placed in lines to place

a part or two. Then listen to my

soul beat out her struggling song,

they are not so dissimilar a sound.

On our hour-long walks together

in the wood; your phantasmal hand

reaching out to my corporeal;

light bleeds and bends around and

through you, and the precious birds'

songs can't identify your face--

Outward flow of execution, bare

legs, teasing; if you like frightened

meals. Her arms tremble.

How deep the growl within, the biting;

fiercely pungent odors of flesh's desire.

I burn for you, and for the others; false

gods on magazines; bottles meant to be

broken open and subdued. Taste my skin,

plunge you inside me; drink. But at

the avenue, turn right; bed me there again

in your quarters. Hold me.

Desperately, I call your name from the

trenches of my life; the ones I dug myself

out of confusion and rage. There is little

peace in me, and love's become a haunted

melody played out on the mind's orchestrated

theatre. But you know who I am, how to

make me lie down or to dance. Invert the

catastrophes I've caused, dance with me; take me

in step; drive me into the burning light.

The storm feels me, reaching down and

wetting my nerves; it is the holocaust

of spring; and within I fight my addiction.

She beckons to me, her eyes wild and fixed;

playing the savior game and giggling at

her own fair choice of words-- "an epoxy

of lovers."

If love is true, I will be hers until the end

and after as an affair for the damned.

The poet's ruse: to take this blistering

cold within and transform the loneliness

through words into a music for the senses.

The father of our destiny concocted

all tales of mediocrity-- our tastes

beguile and mislead the mind. Fortune,

come away and strip me bare again;

I've grown too comfortable; complacent--

Draw me out like blood.

And when I shriek it will be at the

shivering cold grip you hold me in, hands

withered and the dogs barking at my form.

I am contented, and all is well; tonight

bed will be a blessed place to lie.

A slow breath precedes my thought.

Wild, untamed, unrehearsed discourse

threads through pages untouched. The

lyre of language overflows and overwhelms,

but of this, even, the thirst does not

quench.

Art, of art. Love, of love. God.

These breathe life into the world.

Threadbare sunshine; little shreds of light,

am I misguided, lost? I feel nothing.

What transpired in sleep is just as well;

no visions or voices permeate this waking.

I wear the clothes of a madman, not a

beggar, but mad. I once and sometimes often

thought to make a profession on the street,

with a sign: "POET"

Tongue, wrapped in delusion of cacophonic

ice; cold, howling bouts transpire; a wave

of transcripted sea returns me; here, I float

on the puncture of starlight in a dark sky.

Nerves rest bitterly in my hands and I long

for the sweet severity of anxiety's demonic

grip; cold hand, thrusting into me. This drug's

intoxicating peace, while incinerating the body.

This heaven, plateau of wealth for a calm mind;

reaching down and raising up; I can fly with

mouth shut--

Escape comes loosely in hours, and tightly

in more; desire will drain blood and all will

be ashes turned to dirty mud.

Complete my mess, take me to my ascension;

there, let me fall by your divine grace

(but not too far); this is the ordinary state

of an addict.

Consume me into you, likewise; burn with

passion, for me!

And we will throw what is left of complacency

to the pigs, and they will devour it. All else

rides the midnight train, everything is inconsequential.

Threads of sound shatter; I am desolate.

Hunger burns; thoughts don't sound symphonic;

a crackling gurgle on dry lips. She wanted me

in every way; and I, hollow, opened up every

door to her carousal.

My body is a slave to her.

Insanity creeps; the underlying text scattered

with broken shards of fantasy, mythology,

religion. No thing is real; every thing is.

Raised, incoherent motion, moist sounds like

the licking of mud too wet to spoon. Let's

raise our cups, in remembrance; swallow all.

Love me in the depths of our misery-- through

superstition and haranguing may we be saved.

When I recede from you, into the dungeons

of my own creation; it is a fascinating

slide, full of hallucinatory wailing. Enter

my pool. Glide with me on false winds; cascade

into the sun! And we will ride through Orion's

Belt, my reconception of it-- I will draw

each drop of you into my bloodstream.

All my thoughts are lost in you-- and I let

you bleed into the cesspool, where there is

no more division between she and she; true

muse. Her face is pliable, features formless;

her gaze holds me with a warmth I have

not elsewhere beheld. Muse, I think, is an-

other word for God.

I slip beneath the skin, inside your panties

where it's warm and moist; taking off my own

so you can feel me sweat.

I'm burning up.

And loosely, I unroll the dress for you,

And loosely, I lay my head back in anticipation;

"come," hold me. Wrap me in your arms and

devour me.

If there is a mystic meaning to words, it is

lost in the translation of my sexual encounters.

Down my twisted spiral, she descends;

I place her soft, angelic form against my

rack-- puncturing skin; she bleeds. We

exchange loving looks, mine more hateful

with a bittersweet charm.

I am full from her intoxicating smell.

I, apart, alone must break the evening's

melody; and gaze in on you, undressed

and untouchable. Show me your entire.

Odd Fall sends his blessings to his son,

write him up a hand.

How Lucifer got his wings back!

The perversion of science and the under-

standing of all things ethereal.

Drop of blood, and the swarms will come

to drown you in it.

I am dressed.

I am fed.

There is a roof over me.

I wake to birds, singing in the yard.

I am loved.

But there is an emptiness,

gnawing from within.

The violent plunge walks backward;

before Death strikes, we collapse;

entering denial so filled--

I want you, take me!

Wrap these broken pieces,

until they are mended, coddle them;

take me to the grave and back--

Dismal eyes see bitter skies,

and my sins speak well my failings;

take me here, unwrap me in the

night and molest me sweetly for an hour.

Breath in gasps, foul witness to the murderer

within; choking with coil strung tightly; it

was a bad caress.

But there are so many points of light in

the night sky, give me one or two of those.

Don't take this light away,

let it burn through, leaving me desolate;

then ravage my flesh,

as you like.

The distance grows between us as I travel,

buried and bruised with fresh decay;

cover me with the earth of your body--

Warm me in sleep.

I've left you in my shallow, hollow pit;

fed you on worms until you were sick;

I played games with you.

Not caring; that it would end--

Then I reached out, again,

and you denied me everything.

Come, and let us enjoy

this fast of frenzy and of chaos,

immerse our selves in our own destructions;

and in each other's.

Save the light for those distant divides

that pursue us in dreams and in their complement.

Take my hand, and swallow all

my precious fluids, bitter and sweet.

We will prepare our bed in the dried up

ashes of the dead.

And pray over one another

in the ancient tongue of angels,

to resurrect our souls from hell's grip

and give them voice to carry on, to carry upward.

What is light, if there isn't vast

darkness of being to first descent from?

Her voice stands out and cries the pain I feel,

rocking me back and forwards, and again--

all this unnecessary talk to drown and soak,

boat my self; realized but unrecognized self.

Look, she is hooked and pinned below me,

my soul's shadow; trying to escape me,

and I would, but we are bound.

These dark bricks shatter

when I hit the wall; full force.

You feed me every word

exchanged between us; my mouth

salivates and I purge.

Broken in limb, we wrestle;

hearts racing and lungs won't

quit scratching our insides.

You escape, the victorious;

conqueror of my desire.

Caught in your pool of words

with no intent of trying to escape,

you feed me fossils of dead life

and I consume. Your works are closed

but I still see you in your lustrous shell--

Spread wide the prism's door and hold it open;

pry out the pearls of tender decoration;

cook the skin apart from the meat;

woman, taste the deep insides of me.

Across this chasm of desolatory smoke

which fills the lungs of my opression,

there is light.

In what transpired,

between closed doors--

I should wrap my head

and let the pain bleed

until there is nothing left of hurt.

Instead, I hold on to this injury

so tightly, never giving room to breathe.

My fixation.

My drug.

You calm my nerves but a moment,

then let the demons swim inside my soul.

In place of you,

there is an empty bag to hold my suffering;

from which I pour you out.

Two steps, for the vision to be unveiled.

In times of light, there is an infusion

of darkness to set things right--

in love there is pain and betrayal.

To each there is purpose;

God's engine is a marvellous machine.

You are my favorite muse.

Homeward bound,

tonight in my medicated moon;

talking to myself or those I've constructed

through the imagination's mind--

A hypnotic swirl of lust and greed,

tempered with the frost of season's end;

fade in before the last goodbye--

Fare thee well.

Not wind, not sand, not sea--

You are closed off to my conundrums;

screaming, kicking clawing at your face and arms;

the depths to which I punished you

for no faults of your own, have shed

their skin on me.

I swallow in, unfiltered, your essence;

fall asleep in dreams, intoxicated.

Back from the cumulus,

and where I lay my head--

we met momentarily.

And I stepped on stones

through murky still water,

finding my way back to

the cumulus, and where I lay

my head.

Deep within the human sphere,

desire blooms from tin cans strung,

a solitary sanctum captures every passed word;

dreams, and their waking denial.

Harbor them, we harbor them,

to our detriment; these diseased incantations.

She lies in wait,

and I wanting--

to purge myself of our separation.

A small pressure, against my back--

in the spot that you so seldom touch;

and I am burning up in flames;

no reason to the ever after;

not quite denial, not just pleasure--

But aching songs I can't quite sing

because they hurt,

and take too much administration.

I play at finding my way back to you,

but in the fire there is no salvation;

even heaven burns tonight

and still I cannot see your face.

Angel with the slippery tongue

who held me bound against her breast;

my deceiver, my undoing, my lover.

Take me in again

for one last dance.

We meet again, in the chill night air;

smoking cigarettes over moist ground--

Tonight, you are my full ecstasy & desire,

breaking through the nightmares and

disentangling all the horrid thoughts that consume.

Be my compass for a spell,

and I will be your poet.

I will spread my heart thinly,

to watch you smile.

To see a lack of grace

in movement, such as your own;

to see the hard lines of your body

paired with feminine curves;

to hold you--

Pressed against me.

An inescapable breath of foul mist,

firm hands shake and God's grace;

I met you at the top of the stairs,

an insane entrance to a blue mood--

We were eating apples in Eden

on a two for one special;

that's when I opened up to show you everything.

When the thorns push in,

let's collapse in these constituent parts,

isolate ourselves in the divide.

The Discontinuity of Thought

Forty wails beneath the sea

of consciousness, burning in

a tide of impurity--

A measure of the cast cut, seasoned

tempered ocean wells, I thirst, I

thirst and in the point of imperception,

grapple on and hang my christmas

lights--

For attracting fish in season for

hanging to what's left of reason for

wading out to sea to burn bright candles

of our own.

In this seamless peel of reality,

and behind the backdoors of its making,

with wind and rain and ice all conceptual,

who is Divine Tinkerer, if not God or

Goddess, or a mix and matching of the twain?

The responsible parties.

A backward flow,

skinning the sides,

we press our hands and feet,

outside to the devourer's teeth.

Here in the calm,

beneath the hood,

we smell like gods,

and act the devil's part.

When the foul waters collapse,

and the world runs dry; in the

desolate summer--

Life, we'll bleed into love;

dance our cadences across the sky--

And Love, we'll play the magistrate;

you and I.

And when you and I play,

within the sheets of the continuity

of lovers, and you leave me

desolate like the first time;

And take me back to act like

wild beasts; in the fortune of our

drive to unlock the secret code

of all things-- through sexual pairings.

Desire and guilt and freedom.

Inside this corpse, I sing my fetal song

the one with no reference, no chains

of words-- linked one on the other.

It is a silent scream, devoid of

the higher forms of art; unconditioned

salutations in the dark.

At peace and in chaos, all at once--

A blast-blow of disinformation.

We swing on violent earth,

and when the sky sings with dust,

let's drown ourselves in holy song--

And dance.

To dry your tears of frustration,

to settle in the earth a simple seed,

we can plant her in the moisture of your body;

our little girl.

Lightning misbehaves in the shadows

torn on wire and flashing; you walk

through the mind in lace,

offending my sanity--

Curlers turned tight; their offset

pooled into a mistful image;

Walk your womanly walk-- around me.

We walk in silent strides-- across worlds,

you gazing into the intensity of Sun's burning;

and I, for you, my heart's desire

We walk away, and the impression

captivates my entirety;

Love is the angle of a blowing wind;

with calls between the blue and black of night--

with seasons stripped out of grace

and the metamorphosis of parting lips

kissed by streaks of rain.

While in the wealth we could not afford,

the see-through tank which could muster oblivion,

despair rained deep through dreams,

infatuation opened up the sores inside of me.

As all things go;

we shed our tears into the night--

as all things go;

our departure was a weary one.

Into the night; with stars not suns

just little flecks of light--

hope not, pray not, just existence.

Just existence's esoteric reflection of a man.

In the mind's bleak echoed world,

unfiltered layers permeate the gloom

but deeper in; the sanctuary of the muse--

From here I draw

all understanding of beauty;

her shroud departs unto my gaze

she is exposed.

Lie loosely now,

and let her arms enfold,

lie loosely now,

her soul to beckon.

And swift as the wind,

she ignites my desire;

my passion burns with a fever.

An ordinary encounter beneath the sand,

beneath these blue veins, within my soul;

I straddle and unlock the measure in my mind,

still swollen from last night's drinking binge;

Few have come to collect their dues--

to feed the hungry and still satisfy;

one call to a hundred vast oversights,

please bear with me a while;

place the fruit

Between your lips, and bite.

Locked away from her moistened mouth,

the touch of song no longer pressed,

and all the stain of life's betrayal

between lovers; is not subdued.

She chose, to claim me from dark corners,

held me, wrapped in her deep attentions,

let the fires blow; consuming all my deepest thoughts;

releasing me when I had broken through.

Untamed and unrelenting mist of soul,

pour your fluid body into mine;

we'll bleed together as lovers do,

beneath the quiet spoken words

of mid-night's moon.

Unravel me, extract the shards

and broken bits;

blow the breath of swollen words

which love may heal.

Can we shed the fear of fate,

lie down in a bed of ecstasy,

hold on to our desires--

Watch the world come crashing in.

Sleep by my side,

once we have succumbed to passion;

embrace me beneath the stars.

And in this slow suicide,

we will watch the earth decay.

What song is playing on the radio,

one click, two-- not all the same;

some speak of joy & laughter;

some tell of love & despair;

still others of a victory round.

No twists or turns left;

just the outpour of lost dreams,

hope in love or fantasy,

which many get too far gone

to follow.

Her presence pushes me on,

makes the song pleasurable to sing

and her collapse brings a folding

of self into self--

In every verse, I seek her face,

through the distance of a darkened mind,

there, bleed the thoughts into rhyme

or anti-rhyme; a hymnal of euphoria.

In three,

when the alleycat sleeps,

between breaths of finely woven damnation;

hear the purr, beneath the bed--

sorting it out with tomorrow's dresses.

In camp with the moon,

next to the firelight's breathing,

and the shadows they call her their queen;

a destitute and lonely position.

Unfettered ecstasy,

no shame or guilt to bind us;

here I am, exposed to your eyes alone--

As I walk through these woods

scattering the footprints of desire's conclave,

I burn my last candle--

And call it a night.

Ready for the scars that cause my contractions,

in this deep kiss that's going nowhere;

embrace me in this moment like it's eternity,

then shut the doors on me,

like it's Heaven't Gate.

Live, in a cross-stitched encampment,

nowhere to move but where the needle lands;

pouring out, the sifting back--

Hoping for gold,

hoping for anything but fire.

At the edges of everything known to man;

love lies there, like a boiling sea--

and who can love so perfectly and enter

to swim away with God?

Noxious fumes and foul breathing,

to test the air for any signs of Spring

but winter falls;

And in the shade from Summer's sun,

when all the world is lively, I'll lie in wait

of you--

And in Death's hollow;

reaching out my hand

to be denied.

Until the thirst of a new life springs.

The bellows blows,

and I, into you;

your soft caress

and caring arms--

My comfort for an hour.

Into my mouth, you crawl;

deep into my lungs to make a gasping growl--

And you torment me

with love's sweet kiss--

The kind I cannot give.

As the hourglass skims and scrapes,

what will be our fate as sink

returns and whistle blossoms--

Time can contain herself,

in the early morning dew;

but what lies beyond the shroud;

a picture-perfect or horrific tale--

And is this cause to pray, and fast,

And love in the purest sense?

And in my darkest hour,

when all sense of reason fades,

you, my loneliness without voice

resounding deep within my bones

Echo!

Reaching far into the depths of oblivion.

Only God can hear me, here;

I have come to destruction.

Hopes run dry, and stories thin

what gods can cast into a still lake;

she severs the head without footprint--

Leave the body to challenge the mind,

entice the young, sweet lovers to recline--

A mist of breath,

the mystery of life.

To hold my sword upright

in ceremony's phallic enchantment;

to pierce the sky as a symbol

of sexual desire--

These darker deeds of persecution

belong in the witches cupboards

to drink the foul waters of christianity.

White magick, with good intent

do not harm.

We wash our feet,

undress into the cool night air,

warm our bodies in each other,

sacrifice the depths of our despair.

A thousand hours past

the cold, black night;

and the practice of our love--

A peace between us all.

Ritual's mistake in broad strokes

comes clear in life's sporadic decoration;

the one tie to hinder my own self-discovery.

Winter throws her coat off,

ushering spring's new revival

and in my day I've found new gods

to clear away my stain--

Ready for the Summer's sun to come.

Between us now,

there is no death or dying;

just the mortal coil of self

decay and resurrection of the body.

The soul still lies unwashed;

and in our works; ascends, descends--

The taste of torment bared

for unforgiving flesh--

transcribed.

The letter Q,

the number 7,

our sacred symbols

and objects stand in--

Semblance of what we disregard.

And so I see the face of God

in the guise of a beautiful woman,

not chaste or pure

but of the flesh.

She holds my hand,

And I, consumed with darkness

bend and sway to the lull of her voice--

She deepens her kiss

which swells inside my mouth--

She is the ecstasy of my voice.

Her thoughts blow into me

and I, in her reside;

it is this slow conquest which

causes my blood to shake--

The purging between worlds.

And I assume my fighting stance

with cold veins and untamed grace,

a fluid passage of I into her

and her reciprocal.

In dark abandonment,

I confine myself to her arousal;

the deep sucking motion

she makes with her lips.

The moist words she speaks

as she salivates--

And desire overcomes me.

And I pray for redemption--

And call for pity, and for grace,

And a hand toward spiritual salvation.

Her voice sings on, relentless

as the turning of night's sky--

For those who heed the call

of destruction.

Her voice wails in the night

she breaks her stride and crumbles,

how distantly the blossoms chime

and strange perfume mixed with magic

covers the hollow of the dead.

And carved between the breaths

of angels song, a sweet triumphant

Into the night.

Into the black divide,

is thrown the light of purity and truth;

to test the waters of a man,

The day will come

when all things ride the storm

And creation will hold her candle up--

to see the mark of existence;

There will be a separation.

"Flow in me."

The days are numbered.

Glass jar,

mild chill between fingers,

shards embedded in the mind

and interwoven, clashing colors

mixed with bright, hot embers.

We were the ones of the earth

before the bitter cold consumed us,

Now the ravening begins.

The corpses of the dead

set into motion, before my mouth breathes,

in bed we lie, side by side;

forgetting all the fairy tales--

I take her in beneath my pulse,

corner her, and ask--

Two hours we talk beneath the moon,

sheltering ourselves from this existence.

Midnight's call in the rushes,

to place the pearls of yesterday's conclusions

against the wall; at the three-foot mark--

A surface-level congregation gathers

in the darkness, to ignite my body

for the pyre.

Cursed in a dream,

siphoned practitioner of death's studies,

who would not predict or care

for what would be their fate

And God called me

to place his curse on him;

the little things we do in dreams,

while waking makes no sense--

to burn the world,

to save it from its own destruction--

God saves, God loves, God destroys--

God is all.

For fear of an intrinsic birthing pain,

come fireflies amidst the storm;

flashes, threatening dark, destructive skin

of cloud; to breathe the ozone in.

And peels collide with music's blare,

incontinuity of perceptive mind;

bowls of thunder--

stark seed, upturning mine.

When a fine day turns bitter cold,

at the dividing point, moods sour;

hope becomes the faint whistling on air--

I close the book,

make due.

There are enough worries,

in a broken world.

Wielded cabling, patched network

blinds, the belt; fratricide

and doom collects her little fee;

a trace and discontinuous affair.

She bleeds; he rides the birth

of foreigners; she bleeds; he

hides the essence of his godliness.

Patchwork frenzy,

split open at the seams;

in denial of one's fate

seeking comfort's foray.

Her hair runs beads

down her neck, and while

these bruises set in; I unfearing

of what the outcome spawns,

Dance; if just the eyes--

we'll play in dens far too deep,

but I must waken from hollow dreams;

collect my darker day; collect the fire

To blaze anew.

Darkness broods a new storm,

within the confines of human sacrifice

I'm torn in two--

Death speaks her lullaby

of cross-contamination;

and in the flood, my eyes burn--

O, holy night

the stars are covered up

with thick, black ash--

Her voice,

the soft, angelic wind

to soothe me--

While I wail.

Precedes the breath I took away from you,

precedes the light, snuffed out--

my life in her place,

with proper burial perfume

Undressed and poison for the lungs.

Upheaval-- transmittance flu

sky things, we see and focus.

We gather in the fields,

to watch the suffering of one;

he's bled and dried in the corn--

Afield, a dispersion sets in,

two horn gulls swoop

and pieces fly.

Carry me into the dark watch

and set my head on stone.

Pain's drift stutters on the tongue

incidental traffic fills the station

with a warm hum,

a dial of mercury on skin drops;

enjoy the ocean breeze,

and winter's frosty mist--

Dead sleep with the dead,

and rise at midnight to

stalk a severed moon--

Shattered chains.

The rain presses her fingers,

a touch of cool on hot skin;

lifting up my gaze--

She kisses me concrete.

I sigh, and I am broken by the back,

a solid consumption washes over me;

name me Lazarus, help me to my tomb,

when the night calls Mary--

I will splash in mud of mother's milk.

### Rosary

Funneled esoteric names of stars,  
when fuel collects in drops and leaves me wanting,  
I rob the homeless of their words,  
and fight for silence of a shadow's passing by.

I do not want to sleep tonight,  
the demons breed in my isolated room,  
carry me, comfort me, love me in your sheets;  
let's walk the plank together in this foul moon.

But mindless balking, and sedentary bliss  
set in. Complete with chaos of consumption,  
Unfold the furnace from its grave,  
and we will set the world ablaze.

We see ourselves in patterns,  
through dark lenses broken in the dusk,  
when my eyes finally settle on your skin,  
and cool damp air grasps my hand,  
I will wallow until,  
the freeze begins to burn.

And while we walk in shadows of a musky wood,  
I'll place my head on trees as we pass by,  
imprinting all their memories upon the mind.

In heart's great chamber will be my song,  
to love and not let go.

She's softly-spoken with her words,  
her dress is torn around the rim,  
and into the microphone with studded bolts,  
she spreads open the world with her voice.

Praise comes from the drops of her dew,  
the split lip seeping honey from the crack of frost,  
an oyster's pearl sings a secret hymnal for the girl,  
and nobody cares what she says.

The loneliest echoes are the darkest shade of shame,  
drowning sorrows are the deepest to blame,  
and in this hour past ten, her chasm bends,  
to the wake of a flood now manifest.

Our feet implanted on the world we know,  
minds travel through the mist of the unknown,  
our sheltered garments cannot cleave,  
we want our being to be let go,  
into the life we have prepared for ourselves.

Waking from a serene perspective shows us,  
the only calendar of our time is set aside,  
and in our wanting passions, we cannot survive.

it changes in these eyes,  
and what will please, be central to the theme,  
insipid slight beginnings to her fierce  
and unforgotten hymn, i shy and wait  
for will's been touched to handle,  
all beams of light and in a bundle,  
all seams be separated signs of him,  
and in the roost at three i've seen,  
each last part of what i'll handle.

Into her voice,  
the vast resemblance of sounds I've heard,  
as though reading poetry in a dark room,  
lit by the candles of a seance moon.

I feel the pressure now of someone entering,  
the darkness and the light of being strangulated  
by the sun's rays. She holds me back and I  
flounder against the darkness; holding back  
I realize her past and her present are the same,  
she struggles within herself, and I with mine,  
and together we complete each other's pain.

Within these confines I pray,  
and you will hold me close to you,  
a sheltered hour of my redemptive sin,  
rolled up and spread again.

And in this divination of myself I give,  
a plastic part of me to bite and pick,  
again, my love, enter just beneath the skin,  
and hold me close to you.

I died within her womb,  
and in her gasping breath  
I could conceive a way out,  
between the world of sin and stretched  
revival of our modern times.

She lasts and laughs with mercy  
on my way I watched her sink  
beneath the tide, and stretch body  
and loosen grip until she's gone forever.

I melted and my hands collide  
with the fiber of my being,  
besides the pool, besides the wash,  
I wait and find the echoes of a distant cry.

I'm dressed in a coat of pearls,  
into the sea, into the sea,  
and when I surface yet again,  
I'll wear the attire of my youth;

And drowned in a bed of dark, black scars,  
bleeding filth, I'll run into you. We'll make marks  
across the sheets and spread open old wounds,  
make marks and slowly fade into the blue,  
where I will dive, and I will sing the song anew.

My methods, my principles,  
like water,  
and ink dipped thin,  
I show my madness in the divine,  
and sketch my hidings to the wind;

It's not accomplished in  
the measure I dip my pen,  
but I will try to spread myself across  
the pages, bleeding every inch.

The flaws inside your space,  
and where I see the lines drawn  
up in a stormy sea, I look like  
the devil in the mirror, I look  
divine and I won't walk your  
fantasy, I won't look into your dream,  
for there, is all the fire and the life  
that's part of me.

Your throne sits upon my altar piece,  
and I pray,  
to you as you walk the heavens;  
your mean, and meandering livelihood,  
your lack of grace, your dogmatic style,  
consumes me.

And I watch you as you laugh,  
between breaths of escape,

Are you the one I should be pursuing?  
When nothing else makes sense and there's  
a stigma in the way; should I be pressed  
against your body in the darkness of the night,  
aroused and hungry for the taste of your desire--

I've gone to lengths with you,  
to try to push the bottle one more word,  
and strayed again and climbed yet more,  
but sadly, in the midst of my obsessions,  
I was found lacking, I was left wanting;  
and the drops were left wetting the floor.

Dearest Drinker,

When I was but a child,  
there was no mercy for my screams,  
just laughter and a longing in my dreams,  
a sour taste to wash away my scabs,  
the milk survived me, yet;  
and I drink it still from time to time,  
beneath a chill full moon.

My marked survival and salvation to my soul,  
the threads of destiny combined;  
one last gasp, one wanting cup,  
a summer daze. And to the gnawing furnace,  
I will succumb. Peace be with you,  
while in the doubt of sanity I wash my feet,  
and slouch in ease of youth's forgotten smell,

Peace be with you in that hour,  
between a world and a world. Our sole  
tract of dignity let go. Our self spun  
into the pools of sickness and disease,  
each atom wrought by the beast of Sun's  
arousal, each drop of blood sickened  
and fouled forgiveness spent on me.

I touched the sky tonight,  
and held my hand up to the stars,  
where rain is birthed on stormy days,  
therein I placed my palms.

And from the God of earth's delights,  
I wait for my reply. No stitching of time,  
just a drift and distant pulse,  
to join me here, in the divide.

There is a curse upon my lips,  
and deep within the dark of my abandon,  
I crave the company of angels and of strangers,  
to warm my bed, between breaths of day.

Crow, oh crow,  
I won't carry you,  
lie within the sheets  
that you have laid in.

Crow, oh crow,  
I won't marry you,  
but make your bed  
on bricks and burn within.

Within this sentenced breath,  
I take my last exhale and sting  
you as I bite. Each wound will last,  
and in the souring days ahead,  
we'll sing our song of destruction's  
bitter death to you.

Inspiration is a coward's soul,  
let me mark mine with death.  
Pain becomes the bleeding  
I will carry and fire fly across the sky.

With my foul voice I sing to you,  
upon the wind with wings and  
the perfume of ashes of the dead.

I crow,  
and call your name,  
drink the devil's bitter wine.

Shrivel on the mists of kings' enthronements,  
and die a bitter death when you arise,  
bleak principles and bleaker days,  
to count the washing in of tide.

I stain my sheets,  
and lie in bed awake,  
thinking of the time when we first met.  
Longing for you to come inside me,  
hold me for a while, then let me go.

You dipped your filthy hands  
into my holy water, and I forgave you;  
you drenched my skin in oil,  
igniting me to burn, as I watched  
helplessly. The night turned black  
and I resisted your fantasies of births  
in blood red crimson scarves,  
I waved upon the wind.

Soak up this last moment of desire,  
let it be your last anointing of my flesh.

In my head, I coalesce your words,  
and paint a picture of your wounding,  
oils spill on canvas as I write;  
harbor in the still sweet breath of life,  
untainted yet by your arrival,

Prince of Darkness,

The leaves shall fall on wintry ground,  
and you will come into the ancient space  
provided for a spell.

Hear the angels' calling,  
and your ascension from the dead.

When you require the blood,  
and you hold hands with death,  
in your intoxication of summer's flight,  
we walked hand in hand beneath the moon,  
and I shed tears for you.

Now I will give you all I've left,  
and I will curse you through the  
end of my survival. laid bare  
and exposed before you;  
come to me,  
cover me in darkness.

Youth abides the harsh cold winter's frost,  
collides with candlesticks run barren,  
and in the scream of a thousand yards,  
I hear them calling in the night,  
the watchmen, waking from a distant dream.

Be gentle, extract the poison darts;  
be gentle, when the wounds strip bare the bark.

We close the blinds to those who enter here,  
escape the dim lit halls while you can,  
the dresser of darkness collects your clothes,  
so you may suffer, at your own risk.

Bear the light a little longer,  
while daysprings holler from the wild,  
and kitchens call for sacrificial fire,  
hope is grey and barren to the damned.

We write of what we see and hear,

and experiential downpour of rain,

in mine, I suffer darker thoughts of

suicide and hell; the deep divide of

humanity in the singular from that

of the whole. I ride the boundary of

sanity's contentment and the cruel

outpouring of the mind's madness.

A collision in time with space,

it precedes all things and ends all things,

the purple dust of fairy tales,

a cruel denial of the wholeness of being.

We walk as there were feet,

but there are no feet in true reality,

we walk on clouds and skim in the dust.

To travel outwards, denial of the flesh;

and a wholeness of spiritual health.

Or we will wallow in the temporal

fissures and be denied existence,

while all is burning in the mire.

You stand still at the center of my everything,  
and I watch through my denial as you close,  
once, when lovers was not a dangerous game to play,  
we came to grips with one another,  
letting in and letting go restraint.

Now, we last through a lover's denial,  
past the lonely rails of our to each,  
betrayal; we hook and spy and sing  
some simple song, to play out in the dark.

The dust settles, sanity remains some string of semblance,  
and the cold, deep blue of abandon subsides.  
Dada lays in her arms, and she provides a means  
of sucking and of sounder sleep.

These stacks of waves wither and subside;  
we wash ourselves and pick up the shattered  
shards of glass. Cuts run deep but one can  
feel the skin begin to grow, it seals itself,  
I seal myself outside the cage. It is revival  
through medicine.

My mind's betrayal; an uncouth exercise  
in hopeless romanticism, with a dash of salt;  
I exercise my will and wanting, redeem  
the part of me that's failed to grasp  
onto the hold of reality's discomfort.

It is a sleeping step, one waiting wish  
could crash the world into a holding cell.

Waiting for the room to settle; vomiting  
in cans of paint and cardboard boxes;  
everything is spinning here, and I in my  
disruptive stare, smile.

Her sentence by the crimes of our passion,  
I watch her in the wailing room, untouched,  
alone, unadored. Stripped of the leashes of  
our youth; to dance and play in merry.

Her hands held high in our remembrance,  
and I can't call up will enough to say goodbye,  
she sings the song of a burnt out candle,  
withered by the flames. We watch on, we watch  
on, we watch on. But none can save her  
from this destructive wind.

God's nectar, straight from the divine,  
it captures souls in nets and drowns out  
the distance between hell and death.

In this awful place and state of mind,  
where sin has led to doubt of rediscovery,  
the two halves bleed into each other.  
I into her and her, me. We are the same blood.

And I enter her systematic silence,  
and I claim for myself a share of her temptation,  
we bleed in the bath of our discontinued sin,  
and wash ourselves anew.

At army's shore, when tides turn,  
and all the fallout of the aftermath,  
we ride through fields of dusty grey,  
and turn ourselves to night's decay.

The mists of black embrace us twain,  
and lover's dust and ash begin  
to fall upon us as we sleep, together  
waiting in the barren heap of death.

And in the shores of sunset, we cast  
shadows on our walk. The shadows of  
our distance in thought; I climb to you  
there, a little further yet and find you're  
not the one I left behind. We shadows  
walk in hands and I drift columns to the sky,  
wondering what devices I've contrived.

In simpler strokes I hold your hand,  
caress you as we part in death's  
destructive glance and blow;  
life's pause and shift remembered  
as we go into the call of death's  
upheaving blow.

All is washed ashore, and in the clean  
refusal of the tide to part its sea;  
I hang my lull as it likes to drop and  
rise again between the breaths of sud.

We calm ourselves in our surrender to  
the moon's bright glow, we bathe each  
other on the whispers of the wind, we  
rock one another as though the time  
had passed when all torrential rains  
have ceased and we become one.

Within the lull of ocean's tidal roar,  
and in the calm and peaceful gaze  
of her entrancement; we wash ourselves  
in sin's desirous sloshing motions,  
entrap ourselves within each other's  
arms.

What would the desert hold for me,  
what land-locked misery I would  
suffer there. Without her hold on me,  
without her precious hands to  
guide me to destruction? I want.  
That is enough to bring my death.

Between us,  
lies the chasm of our youths,  
unlocked, I pray that we'll arise to  
let loose these distant coils and  
unravel them again.

We walk in circles and in spins,  
in isolated rooms with dusty corners,  
between breaths is enough time  
to reduce the risk of our denied ecstasy.

An homage to reduction.  
An insistence of our dream's  
uncut fantasy. In all horrific detail.  
While Love's deep claws  
sink beneath the skin.

I did what you required of me,  
within these walls the echo  
breathes my unassuming doubt,  
that God's will when the final act  
plays out will be the denial of  
himself. We will watch the curtain  
call come down, when all has  
passed to ashes in the snow  
of certain destiny. We'll watch  
again, as truths play out, unfolding.

The price of sin's requirement,  
the launch of intimate pursuit,  
unfocused silence made mute.

We watch in unison as fools.

Swim, in the oceans of ourselves,  
the dance remembered when we  
had caught first glance, swim!

Unto the shores of ancient walls,  
and through the story of our calling,  
swim beneath the waves into the night,  
when we escape the wailing and the dark.

Drive away the irresponsibilities of our  
conception and our contrivances.  
Remove the stains of our issuance  
let's blend into the world from our revival.

Covered in a carpet film, I rise and stroke  
the pavement from my mind, each hand,  
each rushing tide, each serendipitous  
revival of another's song; counting the pulses  
of my wrist. Life flows through me,  
this is my desire, to breathe a time;  
before collapse then to collapse again,  
as water droplets change form, to  
change forms. Embrace the ether,  
deny existence for a while. Let breath  
come and pass through. To live,  
each moment of life as it were just  
a single moment but also to live each  
moment of life as though it were a sub-  
moment in some grander scheme.

The plot of our existence.

I believe what I believe is of no consequence,  
except for how it shapes me in the end,  
what happens now is a test of time and space;  
the only true memories are those imprinted  
on the surface of matter, all else, all words  
only wielded for the sake of shaping what  
has transpired. In blue shards of these I shape  
your mind of me. In pure white ivory collapse  
the world about me. What desert finds me  
in the wild and undressed; devoured by the  
beasts and left for dead; an ocean rumbles;  
cars drive by and pass without stopping.

A warbler hollers in the depths of static silence.  
to say hello.

I'd like to open my eyes from this dreary mind,  
succumb to livelihood's new brisk pace,  
to spread wide the dawn's affliction,  
bring the others' thoughts and desires  
into attention's chamber. Wake up.

Beneath the skin where crawling things  
are loose, unbound and predatory;  
to purge myself from their disease,  
and soak in the sun upon my mind's  
uncertain path.

We shook ourselves off in the soft wind,  
still blowing at our backs; and cried how good  
it felt to leave repentance and denial of the self;  
our shame completed as we inhales the bitter smoke  
of nightfall's desirous wealth; we shook ourselves,  
between bodies; in the darkness.

Her head between my legs, resting there;  
and I'm all drowned in thought,  
each moment pressed I wade between  
two worlds, one that is in front of me,  
and another far beyond the reach of hands.

Her comfort is my own as she sleeps,  
reminding me of simpler things and words.  
And I come into her lap a little past,  
to seek her morning's dew.

With intuition's play in parts,

introductions and essential script;

all worldly consequence enacted.

We seek the role to play ourselves upon,

but seldom choose the ones we have become.

In distance, and at night,

with the breeze shifting;

I sometimes find my mind has gone,

to nightmares or enticing dreams,

but when the world wakens;

and all the stage is lit,

and I adrift in breath of wind again,

I cannot find part or part,

just the nether world to sink my skin.

Sun can come;

to wilt what's been implanted, to dry

the love that's shown so well her growth;

It springs and dies, it withers and corrupts,

but its long-lasting coils can still spring.

In allergens and small sails sent, off to space,

to breathe a while within another's gaze,

Like sucking in the madness of a marching theme,

gone all wrong and out of place; the chaos comes,

and the drifting apart and back in order, come;

when all things resemble the silence we speak

between our drifting mind in and out of awareness,

our true speech spells out the difference of us all.

She is the flight into my fantasy,

the seven suds of drowning to my thoughts;

could steep in madness' mark, and match to

burning out the center of my evil deed. She'd

cast a shadow there and in the white bright sand,

surround my name with hers; two slabs of burning

flesh, devoured by the midnight rain.

In our congregation, and at our howling for the feast,

an hundred seize, and hundred more; surrender to the king,

and in our wailing warship's sail, I come undone to her sweet lips,

instinct survival, and the captain calls thirty more,

to travel against the cold night's wind.

In shades of grey;  
I ride the setting sun's tide,  
who reflects her intermittant dance,  
and stems a seed peeled bare.

Her designs, her grapefruit heart  
in each beaded droplet of the fruit,  
She shines.  
Like one of tomorrow's daughters.

Eyes lock, two hearts are racing to their deaths.

The class denial; and one unforgotten deed,

the hood wink; heavy floating beads of dew,

dropped from a gallon bucket to wash the

sins of the repentant party. One clock tower,

stands; another fails to recollect the moment

of her birth and we sing: Glory to God

in the highest, and into the trash can go

all things not fit for heaven's abode. cursed

be the plastic bags and everything that fills them.

She throes, in fits of fantasy and fear--

while the dust crows settle in the branches,

an unconditional bathes her scarlet

in the heat of a summer's moon.

Torn in two, she rides from death to life,

in pieces, beneath the night's orb, she wails

it is her call to life, and her proceeding;

to draw us in together in the wild.

We the watchers of the cool breeze,

guiding souls of mortality's hash extremes,

coercers of the shadowy veil

which covers all existence--

Plucked from the darkness

wholly consuming us,

each hour and each day.

We rise and fall

back into the universal debris;

carry us forth, cool breeze,

into tomorrow's breath.

Breaths all counted,

stretched thin and slit-- gushing.

Our life's little redemptions in the blood,

a casual penalty, dark requirement.

Whore's shadow falling,

and I'm a noose,

I am the jailer--

I am the bond unbailed.

The sentiment of spirits from the dark,

not evil or good-- howling from the abyss;

certain souls untethered and on fire,

she is among them in their weeping wall.

Presume there is one last flash,

an echo;

before she's put to rest.

Presume her grave will be left empty.

I watched as you gathered in the sun;

and in the darkness of a pale moon rose;

I watched the others thirst,

as if some sacrificial wine would come.

Bleeding into the night,

those stars with tinfoil hats;

watching for a sign

of their memory's undoing.

The light fails,

as she washes my eyes with words,

kissing them softly with chanting--

Surrounding me with her bright

luminescent veil, as though to

wed me for an hour and a day.

We walk in shadows and in death,

no mention of tomorrow,

she pushes me

toward the grave I own.

Marked with the darker crimes,

she shields his hand with hers;

an hour from now, we will all be sleeping,

and the sun's shadow will fade from the sky.

But now we bathe,

and we laugh and cry and sin enough;

what small amounts of love we have,

we give.

Open the sea,

release the wind,

let life proceed.

Come beneath my roof,

and we shall dance tonight;

when silent sounds surround us,

we'll be merry, and laughter

will undo us.

Entrance me with your tongue's

light tickling flames;

make the heart leap

the way it is wanting of you.

Hold me

ever closer, my noxious fume

and pour your breath in me.

Let the night proceed, unwanting.

An ocean abides by your calling,

in the deep river run, you hold me down--

my flame can last a while longer;

and your call confuse the dead.

White lips, dried with the heat

of desire; white lips, chapped

by the horns of ivory--

mark my madness complete.

To give her my mark,

I will do this: deny myself.

What's worse in charity or in love,

with good intention born--

She will shield me from an

afterlife, from hellish suffering.

To deny the words spoken to

crowds, and accepted on not truth

but general consensus. Foul mouths

speak dust to ashes.

What world is this,

the mind's doing--

yet we cohere

to others' dreams

and dance about them

in the darker pages

of the night.

What world, what of

memory and what is

sub-- stance. Hard

or soft and malleable

with finesse of finger.

What world is this

into the night we sing

to false gods made

falser yet-- what world?

Open your mouth and sing.

Her soft face,

crisp features,

and the way her shadows fall;

her sentimental heart,

opened up to me,

as though I were her most

intimate of confidants;

each timid look

strikes me.

The way she loves

without requirement,

enraptured by my threads of thought;

engaged by our discussion,

and undismissed in her own.

I lie in a tranquil sea,

with none to surround my wandering mind,

and play to her, my mystic muse;

the bleeding of my heart.

When there is wanting;

my mother provides,

and father with the strict hand,

who rebukes and chastises;

where is he now that the curtains fell;

his armies and his thirst for war,

where is the god we love to adore?

her grace extends,

beyond the reach of men and mountains;

she flows,

cascades into the deep sea.

she is a diamond in the night sky.

Cerulean Sun,

walk with me.

The sky's serene calm,

after the storm passes;

between your eyes, and mine,

a cool breeze flows.

Not lightening,

not tonight;

but calm winds,

breaks the silence of our souls.

Reassure me,

through all my failing trials,

and hopelessness embraces me;

reassure me,

that I'm not too far gone,

that there is hope for me,

and when tomorrow's breath

takes me up into her arms,

I will find a place to stand.

We gather in this small space;

together, we'll close our eyes,

make our peace with God,

Goddess, or gods as we like,

receive our nightly blessing

or curse of dreams, or lack

thereof. We'll sleep regardless.

Into the black of night we shall transpire.

A slow burn,

not the kind I dream of;

but a slow burn,

Steady and warm,

like a good rest.

Wash me in your steady hands,

and purify me in your caring arms,

hold me down and under,

enough that I can breathe.

An undercurrent of slow pain,

between breaths; slow and aching

pain which bleeds and pools

and puddles up within.

She unearths me,

stings me with a vicious blade,

bites.

When all is forgotten,

into the cloud of memory's gaze,

will she wash me in fire,

for to run, with nowhere to hide?

With white walls in separate compartments,

we play hide and seek in morning's dew,

I ride the windows looking out, for a way

out, into other realms and fantasies;

And his concordant smile grows steady,

mine disappears into the rebel wind,

what lasts forever takes just a short moment,

to be thrashed to pieces by the gust.

Love calls, bleeding;

love calls, blind;

am I the one

to retaliate?

Her feet fail, our eyes do not meet,

and for a moment I've lost her touch

our lips won't lock on to one another's,

and there's no ruination, no salvation,

just emptiness and hopelessness.

Misery contains me in that dark hour,

between the gust of May and her forbearance,

we come in the black night to hold

one another in our arms, but the night

won't hold. Won't stand aside;

Everything is emptiness.

We dwelt in shadows for a time,

bleeding into one another's pool,

with false fame and an arm extended,

punctured veins and wild eyes;

We came together in a twist of fate,

you and I, extended arms; bleeding.

Where do we go from here,

what darkness lies beyond,

and where have all the bright lights

gone off to?

So this is our fate;

if we make it so,

to bleed.

What I admit to you,

behind closed doors and in the dark,

where shadows only keep us company,

what I tell you there;

I speak to you my heart.

And islands, caverns, a bleak sky,

choose to wrestle me from this dream

I have while waking, all are one

and the same. It comes colder, or warm;

if it comes painful or soft and flowing

like gowns on a breeze;

If it brings you.

Your echo lasts forever,

between breaths we taste it on the wind;

in this short life, it bombards our senses,

takes us in and gives us our emotion.

What world is this,

by your creation spanning

so many miles of the emptiness

with life's gift; yet there are

worlds above us and below,

which we can't touch.

What world is this,

small beauty; where whispers

in the dark go all unheard,

and shouting from the radio tower

go just as much; where is the rest of life?

While we were pounding walls,

and waking up the dead,

when our hearts burned,

our heads ached and we wanted

to be freed from these cells

this isolation of a life.

Do you remember?

I remember the horror

when everything was falling to pieces,

one small shard here, a big chunk there;

somehow we made it through all of that.

Where are we going now?

I'm so glad the ugliest is past.

But where to now?

lest we forget.

Her hush,

and the sound of her not listening;

to me.

Wide mouths spreading fire to the two skies,

in silence repeat, in silence repeat,

and into four years she stays with me.

Once for sadness, once for regrets and misery;

the cold climate comes, comes without threat

of darkness or descent, it comes;

and with her, as darkness unveiled;

i come into the black, into the absolute.

We rest inside the veil a while; catch breath,

and coax one another into deepest slumber,

and try to rest; and try to say a prayer.

Our mouths wide open,

breathing in the fire of each other's breath,

a moment too late for a kiss;

and you say you haven't thought long enough,

while I hold the light to you

to see your tears streaming.

With what little furnace I've left

to burn your pictures in my breast,

I have to incinerate your memory.

Hopeless hands and hidden hours,

and I surrender to your gaze,

we crossed paths once before I think,

perhaps in some long gone memory of life;

Into your bowls of green;

i slip into your ocean's grip,

and there lose all thought of what

makes a person who they are;

slowly sinking into you.

Feed on the words I give you,

feed from my hand and no other,

I would give blood to save you,

if it would. I would open my wounds

and burn in torment in this life,

to behold you, beautiful gem.

In the dead world where I come from,

Ice and stone and mud; in the dead world

there is still aesthetic beauty

to be found. And into this dead world,

we all cast shadows of ourselves,

into the pond

from whence we come.

As we collect our grounds by pebbles,

and gather in the water by droplets,

and hope and pray and brand ourselves

an incomplete part of the great whole;

As we dare to resist resistance to our

body; dipping in one toe after another,

as we frollick in the meadow of our sins;

The tight grip awaits,

the holy hand, with sword;

To sever off the seeds of the unrighteous.

My suffering has been for you;

all these days and years,

between the phases of the moon,

when I would howl;

and you come into my mind,

more beautiful each time

than the last.

And I would howl,

Screaming for a taste of you,

one small sample;

but you were naught.

So I would dance the rain dance,

and let the hurt consume me,

each time more painful

than the last.

Two mouths, fashioned in the sun,

speaking blasphemies; two lamp stands

burning with desire.

Touch me; draw out this pain that holds me in,

and I with you will draw upon the floors,

an echo of our laughter made with blood and sweat,

our daughter couldn't live as long as this;

Sweep beneath me,

in the sacred stove,

bide our time together,

as the stones grow cold again.

She feeds the form that I cannot corrupt,

a ghost that I once called myself,

she sees in him some glimmer of salvation's

holy hand; no sword like I see, no severed head.

We walk and we embrace, we kiss beneath the stars,

but it's not me I see there, not the demon-ridden

outcast, just some skeleton of who I may have been.

Grab on, hold me tightly and don't let

the winter's cold devour me,

we're all alone in this abode,

so remember me when the wolves come.

It's little left between my breaths

and yours except the wind and rain,

and when the snow comes I'll be here

and praying we are not the same.

Heaven forsakes the lonely and the lost,

God forgets the dead,

into the fire,

into the land of ice and wind and rain and cold

for suffering and pain.

I grow tired of this charade,

speaking softly to the wind and her

translucent skin; but I go on.

She calls me in the middle of the night,

in the darkness of my mind;

in the midst of my obsession.

She preys on me, and I succumb to her demand,

to lead two lives; the known and the unknown.

When I grow old and die--

when I die--

When I die.

There is a God.

There is a truth to everything.

What God is, is a mystery to be unveiled.

### Egret

The sounds in the hollow,

the sounds in the heart,

deep in the soil below,

she's made majestic;

by the pressing blow

of her lips, against

cold steel; and she hums,

with a little spittle

and her mouth, to invite

the instrument to play.

This is the sound of her importance,

and I can't seem to walk without

being in her trance; the small

sunrise doesn't bring me nearer.

I can collect the shards of broken past,

but to collect the present day's hymnal,

would be my delight.

Open up to me, stranger,

divulge the secrets of your moon;

my hour is past in the night,

while yours begins its calling.

Let us exchange foul weathers,

let's breed together, in the dark.

All tomorrow's little distant dreams,

weathered by the sun's bright array,

no claim to any, all illusory and

eventually grey, like the night at

early morning's meeting.

None lasting through this desert of

reality's decay; a dust-field, a sour

dream of its own.

A push through the hard night,

to leave a cavity in the earth;

no one may claim, but the sullen.

She tests my bones and skin,

beneath her frail breath,

and I fly on it;

her soft affections.

In the wind, I fly--

and this light comfort falls

to me--

I'm broken here,

in the darkness of her night,

blind and broken but not discarded.

She soothes me to sleep,

straddling me with soft kisses.

In the barren straight,

where winds fail, where the reach

of a forgiven dream fails, where

love; fails.

Here in my haunting, I subside;

the ruination of mother's nurturing,

and condemnation of the bride.

We talk here, in twisted tales and tongues

to draw out the darker memories,

to languish and long together in the mire.

She's caught in the wind of my conception,

blowing; back and forth; swaying

with no escape except her hollow voice

echoing against a small backdrop

which I have placed for her hearing.

In isolation I have purged her,

in isolation she is reborn.

The sex, the sex, the sex

comes clashing in against us;

the sex, the sex, the sex

devours both of us in the night.

Into her castle walls I find myself walking,

quick strokes of a brush against a dark backdrop,

signed patterns, signature of momentum's glare;

true comprehension of what lies within the mind,

another bolt of cloth laid bare.

Heaving Pleiades through the night sky,

momentums change and turn with the irreconcilable summer,

I hope to play these parts again which turn,

but for now, my mind's awash in severed harmony

broken lyrics, twisted and repeating phrases.

Caught up in clouds,

I and you and the night;

cold wind blowing against our skins,

we two, as one beneath the moon,

and a symphony complete in verse.

But you and I aren't one;

and any longer I would hold your

wrist against my own,

and bleed into you my longings

and my passion; and your grip on me

to last throughout our days.

Kiss me, long for me,

hold me in your love;

if that were not enough,

embrace my throbbing soul

inside your skirts.

My head is buried in the dust beneath the grave,

and whole centuries spin past while I make sense

of yesterday's, today's, tomorrow's undoing;

stuck in some cyclomatic escapade, unfortunate

escape comes clearer that I've been trapped

here all along.

She washes my skin, bathes me

in the tears of her new sun,

holds me where I cannot feel

the pain any longer, it is her

escape i crave, her fleeting feet

while she holds me at her breast,

and runs.

A quick argument and quicker reflection

to the darkness within my soul,

my hatred and my destructive self,

she rides the blackness of my mind,

and I let her in to see;;

a hopeless image of the one I was

and am destined to be.

If not for her insatiable appetite

to be inside me when the walls

are closed about my being; her

undoing of the straps which bind me in;

if not for love,

then let the darkness consume me.

The fields I walked through last night,

alone and destitute; or with some help,

the dreams I dreamed last night,

were wild and uncontrollable.

Each moment, a gasp of breath leading

into the next, each moment, a plucked

flower from the fields; we can sing,

we can dance, or speak of darker things;

the dreams I dreamed last night.

When I'm awake;

I feel a small toll being taken

each hour of each day,

the life seeps out of me,

and where does it go?

To the realm of the dead,

where all things go down.

But for a time I will spend

what savings I have on you,

and to you I'll write my world;

if you can't hear me,

no words are wasted,

no words unspoken are wasted,

and I will speak them if I must,

into the reaches of the night.

Westward to the calliope sunset,

to where the halls are made of gold;

and stands between us is the island

of a marked man, and seven feet of snow.

Tomorrow's wasteland of the unforgiven stain,

and the bare breasted women run wild,

another sin unspoken in the lightness of the eyes,

another life forsaken to calliope's disguise,

what matters is the detriment to our creation.

When nights were young,

we spent them wailing at the moon,

and at each other's backs,

not coming to the realization

that life is but a fleeting thing;

our lives have grown into

one another, more and more;

let's spend the time here, our time

laughing and crying and singing

into one another's ear.

Your call fades into a groaning echo,

half past dusk, surrounded by stars,

and I keep screaming out my obsessive

song into the night; where all things

are covered and blanketed in black.

I hope you are well, little angel;

as I am not, fading into death;

I hope you see the light of day

in mourning, and surround yourself

with calm and peaceful breath.

The world is a fuzzy blur,

and I can't keep up with

where my thoughts lead,

they go and come far between

is something of what is real;

The bleak and utter silence,

and vividness of dream,

a hand held in the darkness

and the warmth of a body

next to me by daylight.

What world is this,

and why has my sense all left,

when I write; when I devour

the darkness bleeding me inside?

Empowered by the soft light's glow,

warmth secretes itself through pores,

this little flame's heart pulses,

breaks away to pieces into the black;

fades away to pieces in the black,

and shows itself exposed against the night;

we are what we are, fragile and exposed

we are nothing more than shadows

and trickery.

You take away my tears,

yet I have never seen your face,

I don't believe you have one.

When, in the cold silence I am falling

you extend your grace to me,

and I hold you here in my embrace;

come calling, and in this darkness

I will ignite my flame for you;

where you are I may not,

but I can see enough of you,

hear you on the whispering of clouds,

and your darker secrets invade my thoughts.

Shine like lightning in the storm.

Pouring out into your hands,

with little life to give,

a shimmering salute to our abandon;

bring hopeless seas and severed heads

and the stark notion that we've been wed.

In columns of ivory we spread our lips

and drink the milk of gods;

with honey and a thousand tears;

we spread our lips and drink.

And fasting day we wait

for a bethrothal of the body with the soul.

You drown me out,

and take me for a fool

while I corrupt the youth

and send you all my longings;

it is a twisted lullaby we sing

together at bedtime, made even more

when we have taken off our clothes.

Feel me, beneath these garments,

beneath the skin and in the blood;

feel my plight as I prolong this

longing and desire. Seize me.

Look, I am broken, in tears;

caress me, lover, hold me in yours.

In your vacant form, translucent skin,

a measure and a cup to hold you in,

make me take you here, beneath the sky;

hold me in your arms tonight.

And which memory fades,

I'll take that doubly by the shower

of your love.

We've broken bread, we've shared

our secret tent, we wind the miles

up inside our clocks--

if there were any way to reach you now,

to touch you now, I would probably

gather in the miles; for my clock too.

Dusty covered bridges, cobwebs, rattling wood,

a mile or two more, but no need; no desire

to travel it all back. just unwanting and an

undoing of the robes; to make her seem more

desirable than she is. My love with the hot head,

and the burning flames.

Green fields,,

Ivory castles,

a thousand loose and joyous lips,

what winter never knew.

Of the cold, and dying place,

we travel to; of the death she

places on our doorstep,

her silent song.

Fire burns in summer's small

foray of peace; and we love

to catch her rays while we

can; catch her in the ways

that we remember her.

Stacked against the odds in

where we stood; in what will be,

if heaven is to pass away and

be recreated; what life blends

her shadows with the sparks of

tyranny; forsworn and unborn,

the birth of seven hooded dragons.

With a birth laid up the crown,

and shed the tears to sleep

in the ground; a night's fury,

a summer's dream, two small

squares and one to turn a key.

Pieces of remarks and paper fiends,

bits of blasphemy; a horn blows,

and the south wind carries us away.

She speeds into my heart,

holding nothing back from me;

with her small smile on her lips,

the dusk fades momentarily;

and I cling to her body,

with what grip I can afford.

House surrounding us, four walls

housing us as we kiss.

The fold is lifted, and what we see exposed

from two doors down where the boys lie;

dead in their own depressions. What simmering

pot complains of what I see, I see, I see--

Distant clarity from afar.

The duality of a dollar; head and tail to speak,

some bipolar frenzy and caught with a double

doll's end speak; hear it clicker and clack.

Poison up the tip and shoot my open wound,

it's just a nail's end and a hollow heart

and won't it make a sound, it won't make a

sound, it won't sound about round a bout;;

a celebrity pop star or a cabin crate,

ink drops in the boiling pond,

It's not for you.

Flickering flame, unknowing which direction

to assault, wild fire and uncontrolled;

it reaches out in vain to burn for one

or the other, burning for all but in the end

none will have it.

I am the burning flame, my emotions do not

rest in this or that, but wildly assaulting

the wind; which blows them any way. I am

the flame with an uneven glow; that burns

and blows on a whim.

She hides in the mountains of my mind,

never coming out to play but only

flirting with the idea; my head is

full of her raving and lunatic ideas;

but not enough to lead me to wish

to purge her completely.

The medications only go so far,

and leave me walking this way and that,

pacing through the living space

without clear destination.

If I could reach inside to breathe,

if I could reach inside to breathe,

my breath would be the light part

of my day; if I could reach inside

to breathe, inside to scrape the

pain away; I wouldn't want to ever

leave her; but there is no inside,

there's only here.

You couldn't compare to the others;

your wind is all dried up, no

cool blasts could usher forth,

the way they do, the way I imagine

they do; what makes her so tempting

a muse; what makes me tingle at a

thought of her wrapped around me,

enticing my thoughts deep inside her;

What makes a muse,

it is not purely aesthetic in form,

it is the deep wetness of her being;

and the plunge.

So tempting this frost;

the gates swung wide and open

in the night; so tempting her gaze,

south of the summer's sun,

but with her gentle breeze, she bites;

and I know enough of madness to succumb to her.

While in whispers in the dark,

her breath entices and surrounds my hearing,

while in breaths on wind she can

seduce my clearing, and draw me in;

I wouldn't have her dine,

it would be a short night and the day

would draw her out again.

The ships come in, in droves;

and I can't wait to see her face,

a flicker in the dark.

Pouring over letters and words

have left me wanting more;

have left me wanting her

hair in tangles through my wrists,

have left me wanting her

wet lips against my skin, against

my skin and her arms pulling me

in close to her.

What wanting and desirous

blood courses; when all is full

of needs and taken care of,

what wanting is this,

incessant call to dip in wax

and peel away the residue?

Whites swell into black, it is a coupling form

no strangers to the darkness they are; no

different from it in their abstractness;

one flight and a solitude of being born,

on the winds and in the sun; born.

An encampment, argument, boundaries broken

and sewn up tightly. A mistress and a legend;

perusal of her body and the mark. A beast,

betrothed and unforgotten; these memories

marked upon a social chain of consciousness.

Awash in seafoam, neither land nor sea

but the interim; holding hands with death

and her stark grip that's laid upon me.

Sing into the sea, let us fold over and

drown ourselves in misery's calm mist;

pull me under and make me what you will,

I'll be here soon to greet you in the waters;

I'm at the edge now, floundering in her cold

waters; dangling my legs in and out beneath

the waves' crashing sounds.

From here I will splash and make my noise.

Tonight that I may cast away my doubts,

and in the troubled yard pursue my fantasy;

with all things new and carrying me away,

another silhouette gave me all I'd ever

needed. To dusk, and to asylum, where the

avalanche falls; it's the musk of a rat

to keep the pieces from falling;

Keep close to the edge, keep the knife in hand,

with wherewithall the boundary of your blood;

keep it close, keep it interesting; for the night

has a thousand little blades.

I have your hand for my perusal;

in it I see the fortune I had desired,

one part woman; two parts illusion

and a daring part unbound between the three.

With winter's end and the dark night

bleeding, I succumb to deep transgression,

choose my body to walk upon the wind

with you, choose this body to whisper

in the ear; I will listen, I will hear.

The poison in the mind's eye;

and what we feed it.

Provincial care at the flea bottom

persecution's mild necrosis, another

firstborn to the flames; your secretions

stain.

Whatever, what wanted, what dreamed;

and died away.

Temptations in the mind's eye;

hold me back from falling,

what you can't see is the hole

I would dip into. With seven

years' repentance and a box

of cracker jacks; all sweet

with no forgiveness.

Turn on the bright blue,

beckon me to your abode;

come calling in the fairness

of a seven-bellied god.

Write the capture sentence,

freeze the frames of youth

and scars of old, our lodge

complete the one I asked for.

Throw it to the wind,

and I will catch on.

Black wings,

carried over a steaming pit,

and my stomach unsettled

by the sight of it; one, two

a thousand deaths laid before

my eyes; is this heaven?

Gorged atop the hill I see a king,

master and god of this marketplace

for souls. One death begets another,

one love dies and another is born,

this influence extends to all creation,

but here, in the eye of one sailing fast

it is all but recognizable as fate.

This is the long wait,

and your reply will come

not in words, but in the flesh;

and your travel to this world,

through this world to my doorstep.

I will be waiting, and watching

through the night and into dawn;

come, my love, and bury me where

I belong. My head within your

breast and eyes in your eyes;

I'll make a stake and we can

bury one another in each other's

disease.

We wade through time's long trek,

and suffer all the penalties it's owed us;

through fire and through ash we wade

and when the walking is complete,

there is death absolute, at our door,

waiting to carry us into the next

entrapment of its slaving pool.

The pool is hot, and when I enter;

there's a steaming on my flesh.

A quick death and what may follow,

flowing out the pores; A man's hand;

fingertips at my skin, swallowing me;

the reason I had sleepless nights

so many days before. A hardness

pressed against me, rock and sulfur

in a pool of ashes; drowning me

in the current of the ocean's swarm.

Blue waters, peel me from beneath

this desolate hold; blue waters

beneath a calm sky; carry me away.

Contents under pressure with a slow draw,

gas leaks and the soul transpires,

youth speaks loudly in the call and death,

her silent claim reduces it to naught.

We wield our bodies in a clash of steel

on steel, thrusting them into one another;

and your wet drops of blood and grime

make due my passion's thirst.

Wetting our bed with fluid; a sacrifice

to extinguish desire's red flame.

The wild winds grow upon your hearing,

and you with soft heart believe,

in what I tell you; all these whisperings

take root within you; and you trust.

Glue can't hold us together, only words

skewer the night with their pronunciation,

a distant ice covered glow makes them,

stand out against the darkness that prevails.

Make room for me beneath your skirted bed,

beside the monsters who sleep under,

make room for me; and I will devour you

in the night.

Do you want to drench me with your lies,

and come corrupted in my bed with me,

shirking all responsibility of the after

ward; roll over, eyes rolled up and sleep;

while I look at the stars out your window;

holding us together, bound in the here and

now.

Well, I hold on to you in the dark night,

I come uncorrupted in your chambers;

and when the crows collect beneath the shades

I will be watching you; formless and shapelessness

beneath my lids I will surrender;

And you beneath my thoughts, beneath my

fantasies; in the lid of my destructive

isolation, I will be yours.

Take me into you;

in these few words I've said enough,

your verse stymied by the flow of blood

poured out on the next generation of speech,

what use are these hands if not to touch

your face in the dark; to feel each curve

and crease as skin flows about your structure.

I contemplate the lies that passed between us,

in each small hour I hold the cup anew; fresh

sentence to bequeath upon your lips; dry and

cracked; fresh sentence to be poured upon

your memory.

Your unabetted diary comes forth;

all ill and rotten forms unbegotten

yet plainly yielding in the mind,

I see you, have captured your face

in my views; and I know your heart

better than any of them.

Would you find me stalking,

hidden beneath the boards and

in the cupboards; eyes untrained

but testing; I dream of you

and there is no complaining

in my voice or on the wind.

Dashed to pieces, ever false accusation

which may have caused you grief; I am

come to let these fall into dust and

ashes. Walk with me in the cool breeze,

let me be your servant in the night.

Right before we fell into each other's arms;

before the harsh words and distant glares;

do you remember the soft words we spoke,

and how we held each other's hands;

Now all has been forgotten; all is dust and ash

and lips split, and blood; pain & death.

How time heals all wounds or makes them fester,

how we went our separate ways into the night;

dire dreams still haunt me of the way you move

and with a glide surpass all of my longings.

Dreams beget dreams and in the end it's no one's

lullaby; just sharp wounds with no apparel;

and then the waking comes with no respite.

We will in morning, take the small tide;

enraptured by the water's edge and swim,

To islands made of glass with waters

green as grass; we'll snake our way

through stone walled pits, pooling

with the urgency of form unbled;

Incubated accessory; I'll come into

the well and bring my peace with you.

All pieces you were wanting to,

the dredged up and the precipice

unfolded for this hourly chime.

Your palms against my chest and I can't

breathe without falling; faster and harder

against the walls you've put up for me.

There is no place that I can reach which

doesn't speak your name into my ear.

This spoon, gently placed against my lips

an hour past noon, and the sensation on

the skin. This alone I sing to you as I

drift into sleep; the scouring of the pot

but the soup's a bitter melody.

Rare enough the dying ones who falter

when the spotlight drowns their son;

rare enough the fortunate who feign to

hear them bleeding; twist of hand denied,

a soothing and forgiving isolation.

Torn out by fists, the dreaming pot.

Wailing and weeping in the mud,

with the seven sons and all their dirty feet;

a twist and in the tower it's revealed,

horn blow a secret silence to bemuse;

one can know what one can carry, and I will

carry at your feet in the stone cold moon.

Listless and asleep for hours in shackles,

dormant skin cries hours and days and milk

mild intoxicating sour cream spill;;

a dozen handicaps a dozen fornications;

a dozen lovers at their hands.

Whirl this this little wind wind across

the sky sky; something of a delicacy

to feast on. savor its transparency.

You tense up; but the bleeding's incomplete

and not all sounds have vanished from my voice,

there is a wailing wonder shattered in the mist

beckoning you, beckoning me.

In the fields where we had wandered,

between hillsides on a vanquished night;

lay wondering between star fields

about the beauty we beheld; in a conclave

where there was innocent gaze upon us;

between breaths we lay our heads and dream.

Now the night has vanished and all the day

gathers in around us; dismembering our selves

and what we'd found. There is no truth or

justice; just the heat of days gone by;

drowning us out in shifting shades of decay.

Here, love is a blank letter, a dirty towel.

Enthralled and unspun, I wove my magic

in you; and you politely required every

ounce of retribution. Poison scarves

serve your deadly deeds and I was not

a hunter to be believed, but you poured

the toxins down my throat and didn't weep.

Hemorrhaged doubts, simplistic melody;

an hour long banquet beneath the shade,

pouring and throttling the dead into

their early graves; it's sleep, it is

torment, it is a siren's song for the weak.

I am the mark you can't wash off;

I fill your head with dirty thoughts;

and you cannot complain, you let me in.

My death is the slow and painful,

no severing of the limbs but just

diluted scouring; bit by bit I undo you.

Bleed into me and I in you,

we will wash our sins in scarlet

and drown ourselves by the flames

of the forgotten.

Couched, without any manner of regret;

avoiding the darkness and her stain,

the drive to show her everything,

and have been discarded without cause.

The light as well, seek darkness;

to bring into the world some form,

some aesthetic substance which

exists but yet does not exist

within the mind; I will bend my will

to peer into the blackness of my soul.

The medication stays your hand;

and I can't hear your whispers

from the dark, your screaming wail,

your siren song; bleeding in my ears.

So take a walk with me, beneath the

stars in this new house upon the hill;

take rest with me upon my bed of clouds;

breathe new life into my words when

they have all but gone from me; make me

whole and broken with your song.

When the two waters flow into each other;

at the bridge of our understanding of a world,

where we walk right beneath the glory of the stars,

and hold hands with gods beneath the banner

of a dysfunctional household. There we plant

what we will grow: little seasons wrapped in fate,

little fortune cookies without any coherence.

Life is long and short at once,

bitter and sweet; while death claims the remainder,

a jealous and deserving god.

All truth be told, the mingling in the eyes,

and on the tongue; the flavor pool;

life is but a taste.

To access your bleeding memory, inherit

your dreams against my own; to plug up

the thoughts that rain inside my head.

And dawn breaks with a snap against the

skull; causing even more bleeding in the

brain.

Thoughts subside and cloud about,

rain stops gushing from above,

at even tide we wait and watch

the moon.

For this in my abandon, you catch me

sleeping as I fall, through summer nights

and clear blue skies. I want for nothing

in my dreams; they are pure serenity.

Insanity's crow call,

into where the madness flows;

a cross-contamination of body fluids and ecstasy;

three saints surrender and another waits,

word of arms, slashes and a sword of truth falls;

what is the essence of a thing?

A discovery of beauty in her small form.

Holding out against the crowds, against the

stable boys, against the surge of incapacitation.

A dithering of light, of the soft glow that is my own,

and into the banshee's banter I assume myself; one

level glance, and a fleeting spread of youth;

tomorrow comes uncertain as it always does; tomorrow

in her brilliance presses down upon the skin,

to make us scream in ecstasy.

It is a hunger that pains me in my sleep,

the long course, and the fire she awakens,

why do we remember so much from such a little

experience? I can't recall her face or her

hands and arms wrapped around me, yet so much

beckons me of her;

Within these walls, I wash myself of my surroundings,

gapings in the fabric of my soul's tapestry;

I want to reach out to her and sew these threads back

but there's no movement in the dark, there is no

song, just empty nothingness to keep me hanging on.

The great fall, and our surrender to the wall;

it's silhouette shaping instrument in the mind,

my mask corroded and thought to seal the sun,

while you have come undone and dream the little

things. Mild disfascination, homely cuisine,

and the care I felt for you. I wanted to turn

the insides out, leave the dying blue.

Death wants her own corruption tonight,

I peel the lead strips from the matter,

dissolved in beads of skin and ash;

what matters is the destitution paid

without a price upon her head.

The ebb and flow of words awash in foam,

and I at the seaside, wading; waiting.

Your brush of skin against my own,

and fragments fallen from above,

keep etching sin against my own,

sins likely to undo me in the end.

Three stories up, a flight fantastic;

and severed rope spins us down the

balconies; dire dreams in sleep leave

me a cushion for your landing;

two stories, upon which to draw experience.

My blood quickens, thoughts race and the dew

of inspiration runs thick; you mess my mind up.

I want to hold you incomplete in some proof;

warm your head in the lap of my subconscious,

burden you with my own memory in subdued form,

let you bleed into my being.

Hold my right while I prepare some cocktails

and drive this morning's ice between your breasts;

some small benefit to leaving me unwanting;

a two-toned gaze in its isolated perch,

driving the steel within its drowing mind;

It's a habit to fixate on, a habit to steal

and to surrender, thrusting the bitter blade

between our teeth. I need the push of your

intention.

Exhaustion sets in, and who to turn to

when the flow of water ends; what words

may begin to pour into the mind's wandering

cup;

She sees me;

she sees my undoing

and she waits in wonder,

while I,

capitalize on her apprehension.

The tide flows;

purging out the stain

of unrequited passion;

and we make love,

into the clear blue sky.

The stopwatch ticks, and I like a time bomb waiting

for her to dance with me. I shudder and I succumb

to all her pleasantries of word; waiting cautiously

for how to buy my time. It encourages the thought

of my caresses, to lick the dew and wait enough for

song's sweet silence to arise.

Chopping our sweet father; the ax rise. fall.

the stairs made incomplete between my breaths.

It differs long enough to stand, wide enough

to place my bare breasts and stand; and encourages

small dips into the vase of our remembrances.

We walk the line, across the clear blue;

and into night; let's make the most of it,

shine like diamonds and open up our speech.

You tempt me, and I the same, let's hold on dear,

to one another in the crisp, cool breeze.

Power flows and what have we forsaken but our selves

and in our misery, captured the essence of a lie;

so hold on, and I the same; temptress of my eye,

let's bring forth the demons of the night.

Would washing new take apart the fabric and decay,

would ripping through and through deny me of my right;

and far into the fray I call completion of the work;

wild night calling, wild and rebellious, translucent

apparel fraught with iron spikes..

Poles are south for the winter time,

sending over to the north a sweet ensemble;

bending all my words into a twisted form of steel,

and stolen on the doves of God's sweet mother.

Killed the new crow for the old,

gave a testament to the crowds,

holocaust and its survivors,

drowning in a pool of mud;

Bleeding from an infestation of the mind,

dark thoughts pool in a bed of mud,

they blind and they devour all the song,

it sings regardless; through the sludge.

We weep in isolation's chamber,

we wet our mouths on one another's lust;

and feed off each other's restitution,

in the lobby of a disconcerted mind.

Blood, lust, and agony.

A never ending staircase to unseen explorations,

in time, in shattered time I find you've been untrue,

without a doubt I breed fantastic stars to lighten

up the alleys of your eyes; do you want to twist;

and turn about, calm summer, calm surrender; moist

night. turn, tear the clock from its fixture and turn;

poison stops the bleeding stops the pain; stops the--

Hanging gardens where I sleep, do you dream a simplistic

or in melodramatic metaphors; that keep you awake

through the mid-night hours, keep you sucking at your

thumbs and mortar; placed on the wall beside me,

will you subside in me, and tear me down brick by

precious brick until nothing comes?

The trial comes in the aftermath of everything,

until then, day by day we wade through strife

of consciousness and the uncouth desires that

set us free of retribution; you claim me, and

I claim everything in this illusion of a life;

walk with me in madness, walk with me in the

fierce yearning for my desires.

Hope strays and recapitulates; brings forth

some lawn mowed substance to our eyes;

bathe with me, beneath the moon's bright glow,

in the hour of reckoning we will be awash

in ecstasy.

Waking to the sounds of the sea,

for three full days in rhythm with the tide;

the poison plant divides and spins off course,

another pattern of the geometric sun.

World in motion, world in dream and chaos collide';

six pence in motion; leading a dark divide;

rhythm in motion, harlequin dream; come true.

Let me come into you.

You captured me within your nets,

scarred my eyes and taught me how to swim,

here, in the essence of your poison heart;

I laugh and languish to the rhythm.

Before the grace and signs of storm,

and when your beauty ceased to cause

a trembling force to rupture my disease,

I liked to dangle on the line,

I liked to trade in all calamity;

for peaceful protest to the depths that

you desired.

One might come to collect,

one might reason; one might die.

And in the rhythm of the eventide;

I will require your unease.

In case I die,

in case the whole world runs incomplete;

and all the little babies are forgotten,

in case my mind runs thin and papery,

and all the words I've spoken drift apart;

Should you find me at the edge,

and dreaming; find me at a loss,

will you subside into my pool

and by my side;

We write together in the dark, you and I

our bodies in delight with one another,

in this foul water we dance a different

rhythm from our day.

Talk to me, hear what I will say,

speak swiftly with the wind at your back;

Pent up and sheltered from the dour

enlightenment you promised; found out

to be a liar and a thief; and in this moon

I howl between breaths of the subconscious;

lowering out the meaning of the mind.

Lowering out the meaning of my every word.

Upon her balcony, with the clarity of summer rhymes;

posted on the eve of our mistakes, she doesn't

hold me in to keep from falling, she doesn't

drop the morning limelight in her view; it's just

a small, calculated feast and giving up that

have anything to do;

Reap, from the far side of the darkness, reap;

and all will be fine, all distances closed,

kill like tomorrow's just another cause,

floating on the mercy of an unkempt bed;

I close my eyes and dream of today.

When night falls and dark arise,

I say my prayers into the night,

to no god in particular; a sign

that I am lost in this world.

Sleep walking, without a thought for

melody's sweet guidance, youth has

all come and gone like the wind.

And here I am in repetition's song;

pouring out my blood for an unseen

movement of the soul.

Undone, my love;

in the corpse-cool canyon between stars.

Undone without bleeding with-- out

purity of scars without harm.

Interested in the fortunes of another's fate?

Turnkey; resemblence of attire; re-move

able bodied able men; undressed and unbeguiled.

Fortune's seasons hold me in,

ranting when I want them to be done of it.

Fierce and foreboding,

it is the place to be.

Power, youth, silence,

what are these words;

keys to some subconscious realm;

for latching onto dream?

While I produce the words,

I run rings and circles

through my mind; where am I going?

To what end? Or is it the cycling

that begets a similitude of peace?

I'm reaching out to you;

with small hands and angry heart,

in the way the wind falls silent,

and your blue moon collides with the

red planet; once in time I watch the sun

go down.

Forward through a sea of green and white,

reaching to the sky beyond horizon,

we wade in it, we play games I can't remember

your name; how hollow are the sounds

imprinted on the beach side; in clusters,

rolling down the ivory hills.

Summer tide landing,

beside the stream,

we watch and wade,

together.

Languid eyes, imperfect form;

a career of wanting nothing more

than an escape from this reality.

She has severed herself from the workload,

and in my arms has gathered in respite;

a down bed, bleeding with the tools of her desire.

Rest, assured in wanting frames of silk,

that there will be no tomorrow's parties

to sink in teeth or blister skin;

only memory of past recurrences tonight.

Outward and upward, downturned;

the point of intersection a blur;

when it's too far down to call it night,

and when the winter frost bites,

into the blood. Forsaken oaths,

dismembered vows, a righteous hand

to fill our void; a cross unremembered,

as star-crossed lovers can;; remember,

into the dust and ash we fall from this

escape.

Poignantly intoxicating stream of youth,

to feed corruption down into the pool;

its water filled with ash and dew and

unremitted love; washed still and waiting.

Your eyes close, and mine;

here I am closer to you

than at bed when we make love

beneath the moon.

Through a thousand layers of fog, I will find you,

and carry you back into my home; this field of

our remembrances transpired, I will begin again

to seek you through the storm.

Hands bound, tongue tied; in an ever flowing secret

of your kiss; the ones who held us down and to

submit to the will of the world be damned!

Earth shaken, blood transfused against a pattern

of milk and honey on the tip of the tongue;

what world is this, my sweet; that batters us

against the rock of dispersion?

Is this your entitlement? Some stream of fluid plastic

rolling home into your arms; bitter blood?

It would require yet another coat of paint,

one can more of whoring through the night;

do you want to be remembered in this legacy

of no attire and of squealing pigs flesh

for your demise; I want you to scrape the skin;

take off these earthen wires and descend.

Descend with me into the reaches of the mind,

we'll wreak havoc on traditional condescending

stairs; and we'll make love between the dispersive

plastics of the mind's internal clock;

raise a cup, to never ending life blood.

Coin toss, and you the answer; and I'm still

waiting for all the questions you may have,

which never come.

In houses on fire, we burn together;

we burn in synchronicity throughout the night's edges.

And fear may come to dampen the fires

which we had set upon ourselves when we were young;

an old age, an older melody; transpires through

the tending of our gaze.

Reap the rewards for doing nothing; reap them at the

cacaphonic landscape's edge; where nothing ever

happens, but every bit is real; play the chords,

despite their thirsty vibration. Ring reels

about the blue cascade.

Peeled skin with bleeding veins;

she walks into my life, unafraid

of what transpired or will come.

She takes my hand, and in a moment's

passing has reduced my fears to naught.

It is this slow cooling process,

the trips to habitations undiscovered,

the wind and the rain; and the sun,

which beckon me back into her arms.

### Seduce

A sour stain upon the lips; dried for

your remembrance, yet the sweetness still

remains in bitter harmony. Thrilled by

tears you never thought you'd feel fall;

All prettied up without a chaperone,

I will devour you meekly by the morning

dew; and in the stretch of land between

our houses where the fall comes hunting

seasons; I'll stretch out and reach for

you my dear.

It is a soft and pretty place

until the night sets foot in it.

Southward bound, a little letter scribbled

in the mud; piecewise summer sketch

transcripted through the ashen beams;

ignoble men, disrupted fields of scenery;

all for you, all for your memeory.

Polite introspection falling over her

damsel in distress production; she cheapens

every calorie spent, as if its sole

survival count were byproduct of our space.

She cheapens melody. And grace.

But you, my dove, you sing;

and are forever in disgrace.

Sweet gaze, look upon me;

blow your breath into my eyes;

and I surrender everything,

with deep talons holding you fast to me.

Mark this silence of surrender,

take a calm but graceful glance in my

direction. Pin me down, my wings unfolded;

hold me close to your strong grip.

And in the winter's foul descent,

I'll liken you my saviour;

no knight in shining armour,

but a sweet, sweet voice; upon the wind.

It's in the craft that you've constructed,

bit by bit and pieces; for the war and for

yourself to settle into. Blank shots in the dark,

empty barrels of shot and mud; a second skin

to drive the darkness into.

Floating and coherence spun around;

two thick skins, with a winter's cloak about them;

and I twist and I turn, roll over but cannot sleep

the night through, on your bed and in your arms;

but I can only dream...

While the night walks,

and you bear me up;

when the day breaks and you

sever me;

And I lay discontented in the mire;

folded up without a dream's kiss

on my lip.

Enter in by the small door,

blushed red gown like you are;

paint the world a hue like you, are.

Paint it red.

Beget the unforgotten in their right;

and the other world I see forsaken,

run them in, run them through and take

what's rightly ours, the night; it's due.

Together we will paint the world anew,

scarlet like the fever we were drowned in;

in ashes we can pour our own death into,

to dream a little longer of our destruction.

Your betrothal to the dark side of my mind;

its ebb and flow, the twisting tide; and when

the skirts sink into the mud and there embrace

the earth; small steps are left behind.

And you, unleavened holiday set to dirt;

in a deep transcending trance I have a part of you,

death, defying gravity's cold claim; impart

the life we took away.

Horrid mask of light & life, infused with bitter blood,

we will walk upon the sun in its bright white encapsulation,

and in the crystal ball where there is nothing but entrapment,

cast a gaze of our remembrance into the fire.

A truth in what we can forget; we can forgive

and then the longings of the night's passion

will be displayed; for fruit or musk, the scent

of gods portrayed across the senses; and we bite.

Collapsing to the floor in bitter ecstasy.

A little rhyme half-hurts in the season of our pain,

we hold the banner high as we exclaim; and douse

ourselves in sweet caress as we descend; the bitter

balcony's small footprints in the sand.

Dressed in tones of lavendar and shade, I hope

there be encroachment on our lands.

It's the bare notion of what may come,

some destination as yet unattained;

so simplistic it does ring yet doesn't

alter the course of the future.

We pry apart ourselves and into splitting

boards; you secret away all your ugly parts,

but I can see them; I shake with the unwanted

dress when it becomes a part of me; and my attire;

Slow hands cool the sweating sunbeat brow.

and to the ankles swollen is applied; cold,

black ice from the center of our hearts.

And it is all done within the confines

of a cool collapse of steel.

You fly free; and I watch, waiting at the sill;

and you come back from time to times and time again,

still looking the part as when I'd let you go.

Please bear with me my sins and my longings and

desires; hope is such a silly word to say, but I

hope and I pray that your experience undoes you.

Its false claim, and my collection of the sparks

of insurrection may astound; yet in this mark of

my desires I come calmly to your doorstep, make

my evidence come clearly washed within your walls.

And then I dance the grey; and I collect my dues,

and here I watch the innocent made defilement.

Upon my walls your ancestry, painted in murk;

and the wood winds sound their piping;

an intrusion could collapse this secret space

we've inherited; all by taking from the

space its ghostly flavor. And I try to seduce

you between breaths; and I try to collapse

our open wound; and in the flow of our chaotic

sustenance, I make the reason for resembling

the moon.

Open hours at your feet could bring redemption,

and my heart is pounding where you stand,

it's even up and open to an isolated room;

where you and I and the fire make our landing.

Well betrothed and in a cacaphonic gown.

This is the dark watch; where I pledge my

love unto another, in the evening it calls

but will I come into her bed, into her arms;

and no mistake it will destroy my heart.

Let us surrender to the dark black moon,

and fight the loneliness welling up within,

taint our righteous blood with ecstasy;

forgive the unforgivable sins we are

about to commit.

It is your wailing in the night that frees my mind;

and all completion of a thought becomes undone in you,

while waiting for the mark of my conception,

I hold it in and breathe the death by this drug.

You were wanting and I was in need of your arrival,

what bittersweet irony that we had found each other;

you clashed with kinds inside my dreams, and I fought

valiantly, surpassing all expectation. You were the

warrior princess and I your slave; but dreams

transpire, and in a heartbeat it had passed;

now here we are in the interim of this reality's

hard bite. Lovely how the seconds pass in time.

Poised between the ecstasy of youth and our surrender

to the advent of our days; the clock ticks and I--

reaching out to your unfettered body, take small steps

until I've come into your fold.

The flock sleeps,

but here in their survival I can plaster

walls with dew; can save the stars their

poignant pricks of light; can cluster and

renew. But you, within my walls; do

all that I had wanted you to do.

Reduced to one or two voices, one can

almost make sense of this surrounding;

from an unfathomable environment of

bickering sound to the crisp identifiability

of a handful.

Broken words; sounds flowing one into the next

a slurred symphony (and all unheard) for it's

in my head; beside my brain, where from it

comes.

Congratulations to your skin;

and this shit that we attire ourselves in;

so fragile and non-productive we are

when the counting comes to seize our benefits.

You walk with me in mind and its transparency,

a floppy shell of right from wrong and themes

of evil and of good; the dispersion of the flesh

in its housing of the skull; more shit to attire

one's self in; patterns and words they fall

from the mud and the muck like starlight on a bleak

moonless night with a clear sky. Patterns and words,

they give our bodies meaning.

End summer's neglect upon my skin;

the doll I keep with me has had its proof;

open are the hangings to the once-stained eye;

horn can call upon to seize all of my recognition.

Instances, phases, long lost memories in bed with you;

and we lie there, unassuming of our religious intent;

what hope brings is just its calling, while the murderous

subdued without a trial; the murderers subdued without

a hearing.

Plant in this regard, and plant two; we will need them

when the balloons are holden to the sky; and there, we'll

plant our own situation where

you and I come creeping through

the night; on a cloud lined with ivory and silk; we will

forever lay in peace upon ourselves.

Set milk fat;

in an isolated storm;

water mixes in with thunder

and a lightning bolt.

Two ensembles bleed across

the sky and I in you;

just in time for eventide.

We mix, and purge our incense;

all that of sexual desire;

and in the dawn of days transpired

between our bodies, comes a

sacred silence except our breath;

except our breath.

Innocent reminder; of what we had;

our dirty secrets and our anticipations

unfulfilled; desire and a homecoming,

never bearing fruit but always jealousy;

these are the walks we had beside the

ocean tide.

Now you bear fruit at another's hands,

or all alone in the dark, and when you

walk beside me, I am alone in truth;

and keep the company to my own inner

desire; you would want to dive within,

into this cesspool of filth and ashes;

you would want to take the crown away.

Your severed wings;

and my own.

And we are flocked upon the surface of a spark;

in essence dried, devoured by the thoughts of

the dying; in this cruel land.

It washes over me, a clear crisp bath

in holy waters; where time has stopped

and all our needs are put aside; in dream,

where we can contemplate surroundings

without drama of necessity of hunger;

Bathe with me in the stream of our belonging,

in this so-called fountain of youth we'll

become another mist to open up the dayspring.

A simple phrase extracted and acquired;

your benefactor loosely carries on,

when the room unlit seals our corpses

within, there is a freedom bought

for sealing up the mind; when all calls

transpire and the severity of death

persists; we can walk among the threads

of ash and spit out discontinuity's

fever.

Walk with me in the ash;

even before our time,

so it may be, so we may

find our peace among the dust.

A simple phrase,

more perfect than the last;

extracted memories unwanted, and unneeded

for the stay of your duration;

All things pass, but you and I we last

through time immemorial; in essence

but of truth and lies; inconsequential

statements made of false accusation;

You redeem me; and I, unwanting of your

testimony come clean; you lie again and I

do nothing to sequester its arrival.

Walk with me in the mud of this new life.

With your influential hand you strike me

on a facet of the plane in my surrounding

air; at the center of my void I find a fracture;

such a little stone hold for my face;

Your burning ice covers over all I was,

and in the dark green boiling stew I suffer;

we live in different lives as I remember you,

a promise unfulfilled, desire unrequited;

if there were someone to tackle all the meanings

of the mire, let it be you and I together,

and we will reap out of it the desert of our

longings, with your cold hands.

And with an artificial skin,

we sell ourselves; short of our

transcripted lives and memories,

where blood transfuses into iron;

and corpses of ourselves lie in

the barren land of waste.

Remember all our seven heads of

sin; the spikes we drove through

them on the way to our redemption;

and in the murk of your disappearances

I will wade through fire to get to you,

and to our end, we'll meet again;

within the constraints of the flooded

ground.

Extreme reminder of the first day we laid eyes;

in that small room, enough for two and I placed

hands upon your skin; bolting through me like

the thunder of our past, it shapes and does

remember all intricacies of memory.

Where you left off, the remainder of our ecstasy;

and in a dream I find you at my wake; you lie

beside the essence of my female form; and I

escort you through the silver-bladed gates.

Hell has no consistency I haven't touched;

and heaven through and through with its

arrival; you seek the long path to insurrection

of form and gait; I will escort you through

the silver-bladed gate.

With blood's first draw; and your assembly

beneath the skin where you belong,

I fester slowly as the needle punctures

flesh, a cold wound prepared for your

entirety.

An hour past; you've got the longing you

deserve; and in this dire place I place

my hand against your head, moving slowly

my quickened pulse proceeds; your homage

paid in gold.

You and I in disarray,

falling far from the tree that we supplanted;

in these dirty sheets, we catch a glimpse of our

surroundings.

Small stance and stanzas meet with fate.

It's the intrusion's collection that we had feared;

all our escapades have come to their enduring end,

to feed the fuel banks and escape once more; I call

and your surrender to my voice it is forbidden,

but you surrender still; and we meet in the shipyard,

carried away by fools' gold and fortune hunters.

I pray you do not leave again, my queen.

Taunted by your presence in my dreams and in my waking

hours; I succumb to all the pleasantries of your remembered

voice; bleeding in at the seams of my blanketed coils

of memory; bleeding in along with the vision of your dress.

What I remember doesn't matter; it is the pieces are

forgotten, bleeding into fantasy's attire. You are perfect

here, it is the imperfections of your form that please

the eye most. And I dream you so imperfect you're a goddess;

of the night, of my dark watch, of my desire.

We were dipped in poison from the start,

cool hands collecting sin from the deep well;

within our hearts, contented signs of mirth.

You drew me from my sleep into awakening's

rebirth, and I collected all your promises

of death's departing form. Into the night

we plan and foil ourselves in tin; we plan

for our recurrence beneath a pale moon.

You walk and I regain my feet; another

step into the dark, another cast out

on the shore, another feature left undrawn;

another carpenter's stain upon my hands.

Into my grip you fall;

but I will not protect you.

You wear my wings and that is all,

unseasoned flights and temptress'

goodnights in bed beneath the rose

bushes for sleeping. We walk an hour

toward the darker fall, where you

surrender to the gaze of your denial;

on breath, and you awaken with desire.

On collapse of stars and pigeon-holed

arousal; I fly into the never-setting sun;

and in the course of angel's grip you vanish

to leave me empty and barren on the earth.

Unease darts through corners of the kingdom,

a seventh veil protrudes throughout the night;

in your capitulating call of violent dice

thrown down upon the fates of all our men;

I hold this sanctimonious affair at the time

of your calling. Love me through these bitter

times and I'll remember you.

Turnkey; hope in reason's belly dance and fire;

you wake to lonely dreams within my arms,

you wake to lonely arms without a dream.

Certain of your calling card; certain of your

disappearance through the fray; I watch and

remember all that you had been to me; I watch

it all wash away in the moonlit sea.

She sleeps in isolation, undressed and beautiful;

and while I call to her from the balcony of dream,

she splits her mind and comes between the scepter

of my song; alighting all the innocents of night.

Far from distant pasts I hear her longing call,

and in it there's no pleasantry of form; raw and

untainted by aesthetic; she swings her legs up

in an arc of pattern's nemesis; the chaos of

blood spatter is her rightful calling in the dark.

My face to your interpretation,

and my undoing toward our decimal

reintegration; a fly, a skewered sun;

hot piping steam and all ingredient

of restoration. You persecute me,

upon the cross I bore for our discovery;

and I sign the last certificate of death,

you drive the wild winds and I the footpath,

and together we devour the remainder of our kin.

We wield the lightning and the moon,

together in our hold we keep the calm

sun spinning; and you, above the clouds

where you belong at last; you shield my eyes

from your naked truth; the ones that do not last,

for nothing lasts, not even words and memory.

Twisting onward still, commence to set the course

for our abandon, where we will set down the law

and pick up ecstasy's embrace.

You and your putrid coat of arms;

and I succumbed to your seduction

in my entire, you threw me away

from your enticing grasp for the

duration of this important escape.

I need you longing where you were

and in the arms of me, your hands

clasped over every inch; your mouth

upon my mouth and with our tongues

drenched in each other's spit; but

you denied me of my purging of emotion,

and when the drums began to beat there

was no completion of a thought; just

mere fantasy's attire to drown me in.

In your attire, your bleeding fruit made bare;

and in our sacred space, between the tones of

fortune and despair; I say your name and whisper

every dream I've ever felt into your ears;

the long corruption of a midnight pyre laid bare.

White, walking in the midst of purest black;

destitution summer and the wheels of fate turned

back; we ride into the sunset, into the night;

and where the days turn back and forth, we ride

and rise to greet the dawn's bright lightning.

A raven in the night; cawing at the moonlit sky,

her voice rings true and as she glides I

wander through the midnight mind, in dream I see

her face as yours to beckon to my landing;

in dream I hear the words she speaks as yours.

You fly, and none can reach the depths to which

you glide; I see your form, all nude except

the bracelet round your arm; and I will have you

tonight when this is through.

Reach me with your cawing,

douse me in your words

and I surrender.

Poisoned with a fever that won't subside;

your kiss would cure; your kiss would drive

the demons from my mind, but in this dream

where I divulge a fantasy's entire; I call

you wanting love's embrace in the stillness

of the night;

Would you, enticing me to drink the royal cup;

show me your underpinnings and all the reasons

you have sinned without the fullness spilling out.

Would you, small mistress of the mire;

drink for two and carry on the ferocity of your admonishment;

bleeding in the stark contrast of our diminished embrace

compared to yesterday's small suns.

In a temple made of glass I hold a stone coil;

braced before the breaking into shards,

everything falls to pieces in the end.

You are the candle for these new walls,

and my imprisonment; you bind me to these new

forms where I had none left to seduce me.

You hold the coil for which there is no

introduced destructive force; just a rattling

reminder of what you have in store.

In this hole punched through silence,

where no sound escapes but there's surrender

to the senses. enough to stake a claim;

here we battle our selves, for day and night's

survival; our own bittersweet arrival into

chaotic skies; you'd have a hand at me,

but I will speak your sentence into the void.

A cruel compliment of form; digital submission

and another grave beyond the door; where you lay

watching me from above. And I can travel, I can

lay my hands upon your neck and sink my nails

into the flesh; but you'll forget and I won't

want to call you here for one last time; I'll

wait before we sing the sweet surrender.

Clothe me in a purgatory skin;

It is the slow purge.

Conceptualized by my longings and desires;

by my daily frustrations and my disease;

by the never ending banter in my head.

You've come to marry off to bitter melodies,

and where the darkness swells, I find you there;

you want my misconceptions and my frailty.

But these won't last, they won't suffice distraction

more than an hour; and then you're left with a desolate

isolation, much like my own.

Something must exist beyond the pain.

My melody of pain and slow surrender;

and your study.. You capture the heart

of what I've said and transmute these words

into your own devices; they stand and fall

and crow a midnight song; your life what

once was retaliatory bliss is severed off;

you've long stayed the hand of your

arousal.

Due to inconsistent words and phrases,

this is the end of life.

Fore and aft; I watch you undress,

watch the slow attire disappear;

and in my gaze dissolved without a

warning; you hold my attentions wrapped

within the curves of your entirety.

Slow moves and caress of skin,

the curves unwound within your words;

and your attire of the mind unraveled

slowly for the purge; I melt in your

diseases of pattern and futility of design.

We melt into the sun and its aberrant gaze;

and softly I began to tell you lies; the kind

that made you soft and mellow deep within

your broken skin; the kind that sang you

off to sleep within the night.

I drowned you out with cravings and a sword;

and pushed you slowly to the edges of our

denial of destiny; you counted and I wept

for you but wouldn't house you here; you

were left awash without a home.

And the curses came,

you and I forsaken each,

upon the land and sea,

in our respective place,

and I can see you swim

beneath the ocean's glimmering,

but I can't touch you,

out of reach and in some

far reality from here.

And you and I; we kiss beneath the cupboards;

in this small room's enclosure I melt into you,

we drive away the demons of the night within our

bonds; and hold each moment's slow embrace

as heaven's simple saviour's loving tone;

I want to stay forever, here in ecstasy's endowment;

to last between your legs for the duration of my soul;

while you caress my skin's supports with provisional

repair and whip the severed flesh of my oppressors.

Come into me, as I come;

we will make love an endgame

to this aesthetic sin.

At honor's edge, where the slow waters purge

the earth; and into blissful dreaming we subside;

I feel your hunger cravings and the slow marks

stewing up inside; you watch the fateful lessons

transpire beneath the waves; where they are drowned

in youth, and in old age alike for their

transgressions. And I watch you purge your own

beginnings beneath a harsh hot sun; to flesh them

out before the world is ended.

You and I,

harping strong throughout the night upon our vocals;

the tune of sad sea stories and dismal dreams made

manifest through contemporary strings; and I watch

you closely, throughout the course; only memory

awakens who you were; you were the sharp knife,

cutting through my condemnatory glee.

In the pool where I find you wading;

it is a slow climb in, and every step

marked with a jagged edge; you wait for me,

in the coolness of the tide's slow flowing

froth, and I mark each step with an increase

of my beating heart; it beats for you.

Well up my words within you; well them til

you burst from my expression; and I will

spew my song across your face in the joys

of ecstatic symphony; with your good graces

caressing me into the eventide.

In the blazing sun I see your face,

apparent in the midnight mists through

echoes of the glowing moon; And I come,

corrupted and astute of all your symphonic

esoteric speech; I come in arms to grip

you while the ravens sleep.

In the blue glow of an ancient sky; I sing,

forever below and never attaining youth;

in its apparent blindness I become of you,

swinging softly through the wind as it

transpires;

You, hold me over until the morrow,

and then we'll chime the morning into night.

I slip in sleep,

and into you, my dove;

sweet angel who carries me away;

I coast upon the rails that you've acquired,

and dream the long road of our ascension.

What have you cost me for this arousal of

the senses? What have I done to warrant

restlessness of hours? And into sleep,

again I break my pace and do remember you;

sweet angel, who carries me.

You delicate thing, but wild and on the run;

while I stray longing for the mark that's

your undoing; encapsulate me, within the small

enclosure you've provided, I will sit still;

and wade within your mire.

Precious little things come crawling like bugs;

they will surround me with your spin upon the sun;

those two legs and their dysfunction, speeds

the sky into the night while we are lying by the

fire. I hold you and you carry up the moon; in your

embrace; so close to your breast to be as one.

Drenched in the blood of your quick sacrifice;

unto the morning sun in its surrendered sins;

I claim you, my sweet queen for my obsession,

I hold you on the arms of a disconcerting sorrow.

Feast upon your flesh, as I devour you;

one hold comes crashing to the stain of our survival;

a bitter swallow left for your enjoyment;

come clean, come as you will; come in ecstasy.

Pointed fingers, ghosts in the attic; holding candles

in the bright blue light; I watch you descend before me,

I watch the closed doors, and your escape.

The whistling wind no longer blows for you; but I blow,

and I will watch forever against this bedpost. You wanted

me, the way that women want; and I, subdued by agony's

cold grip was bound.

What washing in the creek; what bathing in the sun,

what other memories we've fondled one another in;

and I for once have found the perfect sin to expect

my drowning to succumb to; you are no angel;

there are no angels in this dark, forbidden place.

With our intended feasting, we should pursue

our own desires, each in their turn; I'll hold

you down and taste the sour swelling in your womb;

and in tomorrow's anticipation for the next turn

of the sun and moon; we'll wake each other

the way we used to;

Forsaken; and upturned in a dream; unfastened;

from the seat you left me in; I want to try

again to place you next to me in our retreat;

to taste again the honey of our love.

You throw back your love; into the pool of its survival;

all hoping hands against your wind's edge cut down.

Betrothed to your ancestor's soft, intuitive gaze;

you throw me down, unshackling my mirth; I hold you

in high regard; I drive the nails that spite you,

I usher in the cavity of your confession.

Driven to the outskirts; where one can see everything.

I ride upon the parapet of our undoing.

This survival instinct, these seven winds that

bleed upon my back; this dire wandering through

mud and ash and flame; I reach myself and my

surroundings to your grace, sweet angel of the

dark; I reach and catapult my belonging.

Your dusty wings grow tired of my song;

and seven heavens speak of what I've lost;

and in the sickened frost I bear upon my bite;

I close the doors with contemptual surround sound.

Bleed;

pool across my face while I succumb;

bleed,

and I will drink the drops of your arrival.

Into another puncture and I bleed;

into the arms of saviour's smile;

rocked back and forth for hours,

until the separation's sour dismissal;

we talk through poison's subtle stain,

as was rehearsed for our dismay.

Oh, come into the capitol; oh, come;

reduced to innocent foray; oh, come;

and bleed with where we spoke addressed;

I bed your arrogance and bid the

day forgotten.

White halls washed throughout;

saturated with the stain of our undenial.

Her hands;

the gaze she gives without asking forgiveness;

her white skin; and severed heart without chance

of redemption. My eyes, fixed beneath her foul wings;

and in the darkness, driving her to sin's anticipation;

she seizes me.

Without the drum of hearing howling out beneath my

mourning call; without chance of resurrection to the

days that have transpired; without my window's perch

to lie upon and sing into her ears from this cold

distance, we lie; each in our own hearing; each with

our own song to sing the night.

Tonight we'll wage our war; and every citizen

be sick with madness when we come, our hands

untied and our unruly minds, unraveled for the

beating of our hearts; when insanity strike;

put forth a word of vengeance through our

breadth and width; and seize the captives

that remain in you and me.

I long for you, my desirous breath; held hope

in your return upon my wooden planks; where you

shall abide within these walls and without

sustenance; the crow calls late for your arrival.

Enter me now, enter in; it's our survival.

And in her voice; I descend again

but not forsaken at the edges of the world;

I find myself in chains but not of damnation's

make; I walk the edges of an unclean spoke,

subdued.

At the fringes of my guidance there is a

purity of thought; and consciousness survival

takes its toll; every inch of me in her

inclusive grasp; every ounce is swollen

up to burst.

In the eyes; I see you undiscovered,

unfurled and undressed; beneath the sun

of ages, I watch you climb up to the top.

You were faded out of memory's reserve;

and in a holding cell for contemplation;

I watched you rise and fall above the world;

where everything went dark, and dead;

in an hour of migration, undone.

So throw me up a wire; so I can sing.

In the savage parts of you where I collide;

your untamed heart brings melodies unheard of

before attempting your revival; you bring

a measure of the potion to my lips and we abide;

small claims with an unobtrusive sky beneath

which to delight;

I walk in grey and ash; you walk in fire;

between us was the chasm of my unendurable

desire; you quenched its longings with

a showering of fear and isolation; and now

we're here, still picking up the broken

pieces of my mind.

Withing the underlying parts of things;

rephrased to pick apart the superstructure;

with you undressed and wanting; our

satisfaction filled for us; all naked things

come hurling at their predecessors throughout

the night; what's inscripted upon the walls;

overwritten. You pledge your hour of ecstasy

and go your way; while I lay, unobtained.

We are the mess between the sheets; and you

and I the faithful creatures of our extensive

sin. And you and I the faithful creatures

of our love.

As we walk these shores into oblivion;

I capture you in words but not a sound;

you make me tremble, with your softly

spoken greetings and farewell;

I die within the absence of your arms.

And to this end I greet the planes

of our existence; and suffer in renewal's

malcontent. With eyes like diamonds I

can see the works of our creation;

with blinded eyes I can see everything.

We walk the shores, and you and I hold hands;

into the sunset; pushing off the land.

You washed the night in buttermilk;

gave each star their name; for me you

wander endlessly, trying to regain a

substance of your youth and that of

power and mystique; you wander and

regret the films undeveloped skin;

What would you say if you'd had wings;

or an easy way to speak into the sand;

what wild words would you have left me

with when you had disappeared? I walk,

ceaselessly I wander and I look for my

mistakes; but they aren't finding me;

not in this absence of your love.

Your simple fire, standing in the truth;

and mine, the ashes of lies and deceit;

we walk together through the mists and I

decay as you subsume my life; and I watch

you from afar, with decency's iron grip.

I wake and you have fallen into ashes;

and all the continuity of dream subsides;

awash in the light of day's surviving scream;

I walk the long trek into your arms again.

We take one another and we bleed into the rim

of this gold cup; and when the blood stops,

I find you next to me as if in ecstasy's attire.

The stars are incorrect; the fields were

blatantly left bare, and I left your body

in the murk; when you had asked me, when

you had offered up your hand and I refused;

what little blood's been spilled between us

had congealed into the sunset's offering

plate;

When it had washed over us, over sins and

all; and when we met in the blood of our

oppressors; I took you; you took me.

We walked the long way toward our own

desolation; we walked hand in hand, together

toward the end.

I will feel better, in the end; or I will

feel nothing as I pour into your cup,

and you devour me within the stretch of

the dark night; I wanted this, more than

anything I've done; I've wanted your

thin lips pressed against my blood.

And to the angels that do not exist,

I sing an immemorial song; and to their love;

which does not exist; I open up my arms,

and to the drenched requirement of blood,

I raise my cup in testimony to their faith,

and devour all as you devour me, into

a deep-throated gurgling song.

we drive out youth's unnecessary stain; and rise

to fall from this small tower; into the darkness

overcoming all my thoughts and dreams.

You wake as I, in our undaunted stream of

consciousness; one gliding thought, perused

with all our strength; we fashion ourselves

upon a distant strand of hateful string and

pluck; discord draining every moment of

our subconsciousness.

The rough divide; and when I long you take

another guise; I drive you through, and you

devour my flesh within the night. I try to

reconcile my lust in your belonging, but

fail to temper greed's beloved heart; unknown

the dress that you had worn before the time

when we had undone the stitches holding you

in; and when the falling of the leaves

subsided; I drank in your nectar and awoke.

Your shell, a hollow holding of the muse;

and in its small requirement I wait with

thirsty loins; until I come, the breath

of wind and rain; and sea; to be just

another confidant in your hold of

denial of a dream.

He gave me the rain; after the hot ensemble

of our time spent laughing in the sun.

And you, you spilled it out between us

in your laundry, on the pile and left

the dew collecting its own memories;

I laughed at you and spent my summer's

wastings; and in our bed we wed each

other anew.

Our gaze collects upon the sea; our

eyes like gulls, we drop into the water;

each passing moment of our life,

I watch you wading in the mire.

The naked summers by the beach, with you in tow;

unbiased thoughts, unfiltered dreams' remembrances;

I watched you unfurl your longings in the sand,

and you watched me remembering my past.

Downhill, on the walks of our embrace;

discovery of fountains of our youths,

we walked past the unfortunate survival

and drowned out loss in ecstasy's ado.

I bid thee fair; young maiden, and in

the depths between our legs, we'll drown

out the calling of another day's retreat,

between bites of our bittersweet farewell.

I study you through the night as you sleep,

as if you ever slept a night through laying

next to me; but while you dream I catch

what falls between your lips; the outlying

backwards prose of your desires.

Two enchanted hearts; beating backwards

through time; two undeserving melodies

made manifest as flesh; one stream of

consciousness in its surviving house;

one warm but undiscovered bed to lay

you in.

You beg your words to bring me nearer;

and when they're whispered in the dark,

my soul's arousal is your fire; and you

sing; more loudly than the thunder at

my ears; I call when your back is turned,

to usher in your absence's forgotten face,

and in the rose's prick I find you laughing

there, amidst the birds, amidst the pain

I'm suffering.

In your sweet darkness that has claimed me,

I abide; in these sweet nothings that you

sound; and in the lightless avenue of saints

I wash my feet of you; forgetting every stain.

We bended in the sway of our undoing;

all collapse without a sign of fear,

its harsh brilliance and battering

over our subdual; we live in dreamtime,

apart from all the rest.

Enticing me to your quarters, and I

accepted; all etiquette on hold throughout

our procession; we strove to keep the line

from caving in; but we were mad, with ecstasy's

revival; what wants, turned need upon the fire.

In unsurpassed denial of one's self; I find

me falling when you arise beneath my feet;

and when the cold sets in and all of my

disassembled chaos comes to pass; I watch

you passing on the wind; you claim me as

your own would claim a distant echo of a life;

but as I fall, I watch the distance pass

and I pronounce you.

You are the queen of my delusions.

An all obtrusive heart;

and she knows her form of madness;

knows the flame by which it abides;

she can call it off, yet lets the darkness

pour itself into me.

With novel introductions in our youth,

she now plays bitterly at our address;

walking down the old road to oblivion.

and she entrusts me nothing,

so I sink for my survival;

deep within the clutches of

my own free will, perhaps

I'll find a measure of survival.

When the rain comes pouring, and when the wind

howls in great delight, and I see your face,

alight upon the ashes of the dead,

and in that moment's breath I douse your flame;

keeping only memory's remains; I bleed

into the sacrificial cup.

Undone in earthen shards and holy covenants;

you whisper in my ears about your wailing,

and I take trips every summer; to see

the remnants of a goddess I have named;

and I seek vengeance on myself for her destiny.

Insinuate the flood of my arrival; and I'll

cast you in my sea beneath my self; and we'll

there make floating angels in the waters;

the kind we used to believe in; the kind which

fade with childhood's disease.

We'll watch over and harp too; dress in guises

too foolish to believe. And I and you in the

utterness of black; we'll bear up our selves

into the light; we'll board our ship and take

it through the night; making love upon the

waves of our small world.

My last beholding breath; and I survive,

unkempt and unremitting how I walk upon

the waves; of your shore's sole surviving

waters; and I dip my feet below to tell

you all my stories;

Catch me falling through your peaceful

springs and I will watch you undress

beneath the fluidness of aging winds;

and we'll make love against the surface

of our minds; all bent up with spikes

into our backs, we'll look on one another's

faces as a testimony to what love is to bear.

The bareness of you, left in mud's attire;

when I was sleeping I awoke; to your destructive

arms, calling me a liar; and so I shook off

all my Canterbury Tales and left you alone,

in the mediocrity of death; I left you filling

emptiness with your small bleeding heart.

And now I know you've loved me in this hour

when I call and you surround me with a kiss;

seven doves are not enough, although you like

the number stitched in glass; to tell you

how dear you have become to me throughout

the years.

Within the Dragon's Sun, I can surmise;

you hold everything sacred, even the chains

you're shackled in. And I in you cannot abide

my longings any more; I drift and sail

the seas, I bring my love upon departure;

I loathe you any longer for your coming.

When dreams fail; and in their misery we sink;;

beneath the ocean; and when we hollar through

the winds upon our face; it scars the deepest

part and we surrender to the earth and all

its homecomings.

Within the walls of landscape's song we ride

together through the day; and where the cat falls

there am I, unsleeping without memory's doubt;

I watch the world as it is, do not remember

your cool kisses on my lips; I sever all

the advent I've been turning in; your calendar

and mine do not meet;

I waste in shadows and in drudgery of days;

this unobtrusive land have cast upon my meat;

and I die, and when I die; a soul's surrender

to whatever god or goddess or gods and goddesses

and you, my soul; my love in dreams; my ecstasy,

can wait.

Encompassing you; encompassing the south;

and in your bed I sink below the sheets,

within your hands, I suffer an unlikely death;

of dreams and incoherent melodies; I sink

below the sea and into sleep's enticements;

reading every word you blurt aloud.

Sweet angel of sleep's harmony; I call to

you in waking hours, succumb to this world's

pleasures and its pains; become the knight

of airy flight you fashioned yourself to be;

bend the wind within your power, and

gaze upon me with the love that I require.

I post this last unsettling start; and pray,

forgiveness for another day's startling sins;

I want to wash my feet clean before I lie

within your arms; and there let stains

surrender to a whim; betray and be betrayed

for desire's sake; for love. Let this

undoing have its way with me.

Before I let you go, into the mire from whence

you came; let it be known you were the last

to break my mind ; you were the last to be let

so far inside; you were the end of my solution.

Within this contemplative end,

I send my song into the wind,

and dry myself of all her sweet

surrenders; claim myself to

sing again to her; the muse

who doesn't have a face or flesh

surrounding her; she is the one

who calls to me in the darkness

of my sleep; and I succumb.
