971

Robbed by Death—but that was easy—
To the failing Eye
I could hold the latest Glowing—
Robbed by Liberty

For Her Jugular Defences—
This, too, I endured—
Hint of Glory—it afforded—
For the Brave Beloved—

Fraud of Distance—Fraud of Danger,
Fraud of Death—to bear—
It is Bounty—to Suspense’s
Vague Calamity—

Stalking our entire Possession
On a Hair’s result—
Then—seesawing—coolly—on it—
Trying if it split—

rocking on this swing again
where I crept into the moon
so many nights with
and without you

twirling tongue spells
whispering kisses on the wind

I sat in blackness
sky light communion
praying begging manifestivals
for just the slightest uplift
in your shadowed lids
to peep ignite

while you steeped in other brew
as if I could pry you
from your own entrapments

you employ them
in places you won't let me
because you're scared
to open your hand
fully

dailies distract the knowing
and warm your frigid sheets
then you wonder why
there's no space
for we

I know I'm Sunday mornings
flung swift at your door
requiring all your insides
from turned-out pockets

but I'm also
high-gloss, full-color
edge-of-your-seat
content symph in inter-D
and every last **** one
of the funnies

plus those coupons in the middle
to places you've never been
they kick back everything
you've thrown in
10,000 folds

uncreasing dewy
unto you

it still stings a little. the more days that pass, my mind erases you more and more. sometimes i don't want it to, because i'm afraid that i will not find better- but fear is a lack of faith, and my flowers are growing. change is the only thing i have.

so i let it continue. i proceed to forget our smiles and sunny, happy laughter. you used to light up the room. you still are. somewhere new.

-somewhere new

conceptcollection

The sultry evening falls like the silk upon my shoulders
                   I kiss your throat as you write to your mother
It conflicts you, does it not?
                   The memory of her weeping and the very act of your hands
One clutching your pen, the other gliding over the inside of my thigh
                   Both ever so foolishly stained in the purest of black
It certainly conflicts me, my love, for all my tender heart longs for is this:
                   Stain me
Grip my hair, press me harder onto your lap, blacken me
                   Let me see the sweetest stars—
And may they be sweeter than the relish of raspberries upon my mouth
                   Write to your mother about me
I shall kiss you for it
                   And thus, as we clasp hands dreamily, become your muse

Becoming gold diggers,
the myths, without
ism and orthodoxy.

The creed will not observe.
I will say, I am the god
of ruins.I offer my inadequacies
to be punished.

The passions were rising.
You **** yourself to get the
space, the privacy.

Where the theme ends?
The religion has only absurd
quotations.You always involve the
Almighty- for any fall,
any bloodshed.

The tricks played by blessed
saints.You would always sleep in dark.
Eyes the faded gems.

Put a child lock
on the liquor cabinets,
and fasten me
to your kitchen sink.

Watch me drift slowly down the drain.

Watch shattered wine glass
stick between fragments of me
in the garbage disposal blades.

Watch broken sentences
arch over our faulty plumbing lines.

Watch pieces of you stick strictly to silver spoons.

Take the skin of your Cuban
and roll a noose around my neck
to yank the blaze from my throat
into the bile of my slip-ups
that pool on the kitchen floor
from an unattached pipe
that just can’t seem to keep
her pretty little mouth shut.

Penetrate my thoughts from behind
and throw plates at the walls
of my shoulder blades
when you need to hear the question again
because it doesn’t matter what she thinks
if her face is nothing but
a cracked serving platter.

Force your hands
onto the authority of my hipbones.

Pierce your wedding ring
through my belly button for safekeeping.

Decorate my body
with super glue
so your words can stick to me.

Sort me in
with the pots and pans
so your voice
doesn’t have to clang against
my eardrums anymore.

Reorganize me
again and again
until you can’t wash the stain
out of my bottom lip anymore.

Pour me a drink
while I drip Taps into the sink
because when I realize
water isn’t strong enough
to make me forget how blood
runs so much thicker over my skin,
tears begin to slip so easily off my eyelashes.

Let my death
be a pail
brimmed with ex-lovers’
cries for attention.

Let me kick the bucket
this time
when they begin to drown out
the sound of my own.

Let me be a reminder
that not all channels
you lose yourself down
have to be man made.

My dear friend,

There's no answer in those bottles
Or those false bravados
There's truth in cliche mottos
But those answers are hollow
Unlike those pills you swallow
Because you're chronically suicidal
With no contrary to guide you
And no lover to confide to
So you'll just cram it all in a note in the hotel room they find you
Now you're only living through all the strangers you were kind to
The family that stood beside you
The hell you dragged their mind through
The lovers you had lied to
The crafts that you had fine tuned
The dark past behind you
And whatever state your mind looms now

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
M. Whit

Author a book,
Compose a music album,
Become a popular cook,
Hold an art exhibition,
Explore innovation,
Creation,
Ground breaking invention,
Appear on television,
Meet Stan Lee,
Creator of comic action,
Live dangerously,
Learn magic,
Learn lock pick,
Want to build,
Create,
Destroy,
Travel,
Back in time,
To the future,
Explore nature,
And shape the world,
From its failures.

you fit into me.
and i fit into you.
where we slid into place.
was something I never thought we'd do.

since we breathed as one.
where we slid into place.
how your weight fell on my chest.
how your hand stroked my waist.

the way you pressed in closer.
how your weight fell on my chest.
when your eyelids heavied.
while your hand brushed my breast.

we layed as one.
the world fell silent.