I am suddenly aware
of how the blood weighs me down
pooling around the black box
that lays frozen in the darkness
of my chest

My body caves in.
Melting into my own skin
into the slowmotion observed by
restless eyes
tired eyes

and I laugh
hollow
Pretending
I really feel
the laughter in my throat

Am I living?
I am just an illusion, I pray.

Reality answers
and I know
I am still whole
Not a pit beneath the eyes of the rest,
Not a spec of gray in the void,
Not a twisting memory fading
into the ether.

I am still flesh and streaming blood.
Still a moving, flexing creature.
Slowed down by ravenous
thoughts
about pain.

And when the hands that reached for me
with filthy intentions
retreat
I yearn for the filth,
I yearn for the feeling
of want.

I yearn for any feeling.
Any at all.

First Poem of the Day


I don't sleep in p.j's

For they would get in the way.

I don't sleep in the ****,
That would be rude.

I sleep in words,
Of different shades, different languages.
For when, I sleep, I sleep with
You.
When I write the through and the overnight,,
Poems from my dreams retained, for
You,
I must present them respectfully,
For that it is how they were written.

What the do I wear when prone?
That is something I won't disclose,
Until you come to visit,
When we will lie side by side,
Composing unilaterally,
Hiding nothing, naked in a new way...

I love the taste of you in my mouth.

As a poet, call me amateur.

As a lover, call me poet.