early one morning the sun was shining

somehow it never quite unrumples in an easy "now the bed is made" flick of the wrist. always crawling over the mattress fidgeting with the corners of the coverlet, knees dropping like meteorites leaving craters in the smooth fabric. chasing around after myself tidying up the rabble left behind my first pass. my life is one big unkemp bed. usually i'm alright with that. it's mine and i keep it the way i find it comfortable. but why on earth do people have to push me out of the way, peel down their sweaty little panties and piss me a river. as if living in a house of lunacy and death riddled dog feces isn't enough of an adventure in stamina.
what really nips at the tip of my shrivled little clit, though, is the attitude that creativity can be climbed on into. strapped on like a big bulbous cock, apple on a log, and along with it all the wisdom and grace. nearly fucking your english teacher in highschool does not make you a writer. listening intently to people describe the ecstacy found in vulnerability does not make you a martyre. un-empathetic voyerism is disgusting. to bleed one must first take the time to find the goddamn vein.
at the very least, i tamed the beast...if only for a time.

can smile slyly to my secret self,
giggly and burble away -
point the imaginary finger with a
'ha ha...i saaawwww you!'
jumping bean soul flip flopping foppishly. but
move one toe - even thinking the thought is
taboo. and so very angry that it must be
so very angry
and ugly
and froggy toad warts.
i blow raspberries at the powers
that be - that me
in this freaky fumbled
crumpled
skin suit has too many holes
and not enough patches.
that it shouldn't take more
but it must
because i must
settle beneath the dust of ordinary.
make believe.
to relieve the spirit the burden
'ding ding ding, buzz, reraww...
we have a winner!'
the mystic adulation gives me constipation.
and although his smiles take me miles
- and other such trite crap-
the snap of reality
stings. can't lure the girl who
hawked the ring.
well, perhaps at first.
can't help the thirst for friendship
(and other warm comforts)
but i've learned lessons,
oh, yeah.
and the best one is that sweet stinks worse than feet.
my sort of belief speaks fuck
......you, me, then tea...
-nice to know you, goodluck.
see, fuck is so much easier,
squeezier.
that ill,
pill stuck in my throat look is NOT the
hook for this
been around the block wo-man.
give me something hard to break against,
not cushion for the pushin'-
cause i will push
and break
thru to the rock you didn't want me to see,
let alone feel
and bleed all over.
weird is all, perhaps because i looked
twice and you looked back.
can never be sure it i did it or not, so
i won't play. not by myself,
not that sad old song and dance again.
who needs it?
- the girl that feeds it -
sorry,
but don't feel that either!
(because i cried?), bullshit.
dare to give.

you frighten me. still, after all this time and men and tears and shifts within. hearing you makes me barefeet grass happy. wrapped up into you there is no sense of time for me, suddenly the most amazing space in being is the shape we create. no matter the defense i construct, i lose it all...and inside that gecko fleck of your iris i am simple, honest, and raw. something happens between us...and that frightens me.
you may very well kill me, but that chance is worth the laughter in your eyes. :) you make my smile true. thank you.

i told you that you frighten me....and you do. i haven't felt this way ...actually i haven't felt this way . i have no control over this, over the way i experience you. it is beyond sex, beyond friendship, and i can't understand it. i always have some element of control, whether it be physical or mental, but i am completely at your disposal. i have been since the beginning. you touch a place in me i thought dead. and just hearing your voice i am overwhelmed by this feeling of happiness. this song brings tears to my eyes and sunshine makes me giggle now and i laugh because it is all for you. there are so many facets to this weird thing that is me...many many are difficult and imperfect, but on a whole i realized one thing...you disquiet me in a way that is honest and real. i haven't been this open, and i wonder just exactly where it will take me. but, regardless, i trust it...and you. somehow i believe for the first time in the warmth in someones eyes. thank you for feeling whatever it is between us. i miss you more thqn i can ever say. i miss discovering you. aim thank you for loving me, for your friendship. together we share something completely insuler and perfect beyond human conception of the word. you are forever with me - this is the closest to religion i will ever come. i have spent a great deal of energy, thought, tears...money for alchohol...to understand how i can know joy beyond comparison and yet live each breath on the edge of sanity. i cannot change the fact of your existance, my reaction to that - i never fell in love with you. i've known your soul a long time~there was no beginning to this~i just have a face now to go along with the sensation. because of that, i cannot bear to ever have you tell me you love me again, see it in your eyes, feel it dripping from your tounge. being that close, tasting it, vacationing there is leagues away from existing in it.
i can't really fault your confusion, it's your rejection of what you don't understand. doesn't it serve reason to say that human contact begets self-exploration? if you have indeed served people your entire life, opening doors otherwise unexplored, that in turn you will be opened to new thought? even though you brought no new revelations to my door, i am a more paired down version of myself. because of 'petty human emotion' i have traversed layers of myself hitherto uncovered. i can give you words of anger and love, passion, despair...maybe even squeak out one or two apathetic phrases. but it's all the same, really, concerning you.

starving, frozen, starkraving mad, rolling naked on the lawn of memory and regret. so i thought the night can't get much better or worse depending on the content of your purse of belief. being, a rare treat, an admiral feat in this day and age. buring myself in a page of nonsensical blather, ends gathered and tied, burned in a smudged prayer for a love diseased. do you taste the smoke, catch the sprinkle of broken glass, sharp staccato puncturing the midnight? riot that is our union. unbridled and unresolved, this paddle ball passionate loving free for all has just about bled me dry with every kiss and every lie of immunity. hate the rate at which yu turn from lilac wine to never in this lifetime. tanquerae with a twist of lime, cammomile cream with a honey bear rhyme. should probably lose the thread of memory as you do.

Who the hell do you think you are? I know you as you do this aching in my heart for some sort of truth. You stretch right through me with such confidence I cannot understand the trust in your face that I have the answers. My mystery is my misery and the balm for your own unfathomable anguish. God. What have you for me? my answers, my relief? I don’t feel like the earth mother all you broken angels take me for. What sort of egocentric bastard has the idea that sacrificing myself to make them whole will make me stronger? Who set that value upon my blood, tears and time? How did my spirit, my love, all my lifetimes become the absolute rejuvination elixer? I am so angry with you right now. And somehow I know you know it. I hope you dream of it, my utter disgust at your selfishness. But we both know I will breath in your secrets like a dark summer musk settling through the screen. I will be what it is you need just by being, and as you wipe my blood from your wolfish grin I hope you are as thankful as i.

why is it you I think of with a soft smile? Surprised that I have anything soft left to give. For you. For anyone. Including myself. I suppose amongst all you see my vulnerability is much more elusive than my intentions. Maybe not. Perhaps this broken and bruised heart is in fact beating out of my chest for you to examine thoroughly. Explains a lot I must say. However, I have yet to believe in anything you might claim to be, say or and feel. I simply can’t believe the tenderness in your eyes. I can’t. I’m not exactly sure what to do with you since you haven’t really tried to get me into bed. At all as a matter of fact. This makes me suspicious. it shouldn’t but the shouldn’t never really matter when it all comes down to it….we feel what we feel and I am afraid. I am. Scared shitless of you. It’s been a really long time since someone tried to get to know me, regardless of your reasoning, and I am at a total loss as to how to handle this. Do you really have any inkling as to how fucked up I am, that if you really want anything from me it’s going to have to be an effort. I’m not seamless.

i am so tired
of knowing
feeling
tasting in the air tattooed with my smoke
exactly how wonderful
you think i am
tired of watching the weight of desire
sink slowly inside
when you turn
expecting me to follow

Why didn’t you love me?
that’s what I really need
to know. Why on earth
did I see you
walking
toward me for the first time and feel
something.
That thing
that makes me the asshole. THAT something.
Simple joy it was to just be near you.
Breathing
in your eyes
understanding a little more about soul.

i think about your cock.
i always have.
wonder about it, ponder
it's length and girth...possible color.
this excercise keeps you real y'know. a regular
guy that may or may not
have a pecker
that resembles a deformed sweet potato.
makes me a little less nervous
to sift
back through the memories.

i hated the throwing
that heavy bosomed heaving
rushing straight into your ice block

i hated them
pointy toed and half naked
drunk and reeking of sex

i hated the easy half smile
the sexy lean
the roving eye

i hated that i waited.

how dare you,

with your sleepy time music
and your blatant stare
(rude fuck)
and what cosmo calls 'bedroom eyes'
i wish to gauge out and take to the police as evidence,
(apparently scars of sprirt don't hold up well in court)

continually badger,

in that underhanded
sly speaker sneaky, shadow stalking manner,
one eye fatally fixed on the intagible massacre
your two-sided innuendoes wreak,

with no intent,

because of course there is never a purpose,
a reason,
(at least not one any man can admit to without slicing himself open,
bloody mess they are anyway without mimicking a cantaloupe)

of ever saying,

speaking, screaming,
pantomime perhaps being acceptable in a rare emergency
such as your tongue being chewed off by a ravenous pug,
(good aries, goooood girl)

i really did mean it.

it's funny, i must be crazy.
to still think about you so fluently....memories cascading into every
tiny
free moment. sometimes slowly creeping over me,
most times like a thonk on the mellon with a blunt object.
the kind that makes you wince in fear of the next one.
completely
separate
from every other facet of my life, any wishes or dreams.
there is the idea i have for my life and
then there is you.
i can't help but see your profile in my thoughts, or hear
the ghost of your laughter in my twilight dreams.
it is insane to fixate on something that was so brief and yet
everything in me strains back to that memory of perfect. that was it,
laying on that damp grass
holding your hand,
watching the stars.
your scent still a very real thing draped
across my shoulders. the easy rustle of your laughter against
my bare skin. and your smile. and i go
on and on
down into a terrifying depth of longing. i always end
up missing the way it could have been but i miss the way it was,
for the first time i lived

to see you again
that's all
chewing the inside of your cheek
working your mouth around and around

watching the subtlety
of your shadows
turning in on themselves
turning and rolling over
like a great swell

liquid lash
dripping down
splashing open
so open

i sit here saturated
in a thought of you standing.
just that.
simply existing before me,
defying both rule of death and taxes.
i continually find you in my spaces,
those tiny gifts of time
where i am overcome with absolute awareness
of life and soul.
and
that is a sense of wholeness
i thought only to imagine.
nothing can truly hurt me anymore.
it is the most beautiful gift i have ever received.

i never realized,
having wrapped myself in your truths,
that it was a game to be won or lost
>after handing over the spoils
unwittingly i find i've had enough of starving myself.
rape
seems a bitter better exclamation
your caramel stare slithered a stealthy micky
into the scotch and soda soul
splish sploshing too readily.
date rape
of the mind, if you care to know.
parading around
a student of my strength
just to cut off my arm and watch the freak
grow it back.
so it will.
so you will
learn, in time, from my pain.
the pain of your name,
semen,
and sermon
thick and tacky in my mouth.
(numb, dumb, and willing)
>should your memory drip so easily down my thigh=
perhaps the soiled sheet of experience
you left me swaddled in wouldn't be my only shelter.
too easy
i let you in
too easy
you let go
whores we are.
if only i could be sure
i bore you my final trick.
dick.

#1
i am tired
of the moon crying
and eyes calling
souls pulling and stretching
- in the wake of a force i cannot understand.
so terribly drained by that sense
uncommon
uncompromising
unfulfilling
- always un - never
just
simple.
as if such a gift must be bought
at the price of everyday availability.
pointless, really.

#2
do not look
if the hook escapes you -
swim freely in shallower waters

#1

take it slow
as if i am the one
in control
not the tiny fleck of colour
-green i think-
spalshed in your iris.
and although i can't
quite
remember
right or left
i do recall thinking
he will crush me
to death
with such intricate
beauty


#2

you always make me
laugh
at my dorky girl status
gum sticky braces
shuffled feet
mussed up hat hair
noxious insecurity
never let them know
they've hurt you mantra
i wish i were thin
i wish i were
i wish
i.
can't ever learn to outgrow
myself
tired of waiting for the shoe
to
drop
- cut bait and my losses in the nick of time -
i will always trust
in my feelings....
never yours
if i believe in anything
it is my own broken heart
and i am sorry
for that
piece of shit
excuse
as to why i hate
you
right
now
for this sadness
in my throat.

#3

fuck it
cold little bitch
it won't hurt
just to flirt and laugh
steam up the mirror
- never thaw, though-
that raw crackle
(soul delight)
certainly might
be real

#4

grant me a small reprieve,
a slight backward slide
such a moment

again.

forever
is an endless coil
of independent adventures

#1

take it slow
as if i am the one
in control
not the tiny fleck of colour -
green i think -
splashed in your iris.
and although
i can't quite
remember
right or left
i do recall thinking
he will crush me
to death
with such inticate beauty.



#2
you always make me
laugh
at my dorky girl anxiety
gum sticky braces
shuffled feet
mussed up hat hair
noxious insecurity
never let them know
they've hurt you mantra
i wish i were thin
i wish i were
i wish
i.
can't ever learn
to outrow myself
tired of waiting for the shoe
to drop
- cut bait
and my losses
in the nick of time -
i will always trust in my feelings....
never yours.
if i believe in anything
it is my own broken heart
and i'm sorry
for that
piece of shit
excuse
as to why i hate you
right now
for this sadness
in my throat.


#3

fuck it
cold little bitch
it won't hurt
just to flirt and laugh
steam up the mirror
- never thaw, though
that raw crackle
(soul delight)
certainly might be real


#4

grant me a small reprieve,
a slight backward slide
such a moment
again.
forever
is an endless coil
of independent adventures.