if I should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).

Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, I will bring you  every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.

Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
I will bring you every year

something which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.

a connotation of infinity
sharpens the temporal splendor of this night

when souls which have forgot frivolity
in lowliness,noting the fatal flight
of worlds whereto this earth’s a hurled dream

down eager avenues of lifelessness

consider for how much themselves shall gleam,
in the poised radiance of perpetualness.
When what’s in velvet beyond doomed thought

is like a woman amorous to be known;
and man,whose here is alway worse than naught,
feels the tremendous yonder for his own—

on such a night the sea through her blind miles

of crumbling silence seriously smiles

rhythym like that
makes the rain jealous
smile when you move
or its just not the same
rain makes my bones ache
and then i escape into sleep
i love you too... perhaps a bit too much
i just wanna wipe your tears
the way i wipe windows to stare out of them
on days like this when my own vision is foggy

i think my brain is faulty
dark thoughts swirl through my mind
like a demon, possessed
i want to hurt myself
scratch the thoughts from my skin
but they return on dark nights
sometimes when i least expect them
come crawling back
like a bad smell

i try to release the thoughts
through my finger tips
onto blank pages with biro
but they are lodged inside
for eternity
sometimes tears flow
and its like i can breath again
but then the emptiness follows
my words
my breathe
everything
stuck in my throat
like an incurable illness

please make them go away
please
i beg you

I’ll take you now, all that you are. Bite into my arms, you’re not trying to hurt me I know so I smile, you are just trying to be as close as you can for awhile. While you cannot feel guilt, while you forget to second guess. Your hands encase my wrists and your eyes bore into my own, I know what you’re looking for - the parts we never show. You outline the digits of my hand like they are your favorite tools to manipulate, that they are the only phrases you may entertwine with your own at the height of moments. My skin glides above yours, begging for the dissertation that you only can write.

Those first sentences will tentatively start with brushes of fingertips, touches at my arms and thighs, but they will pause after an introduction of lips and I will feel as I have at every single one of your readings. Foreplay is just your way of working up to your main point, no pun intended. The facts and examples are the neck kisses and when we undress you bring forth your objectives in a way I could never deny, would never ignore. Another moment to take each other in, as if we were opposing sides of the debate but that is hardly the case. But it doesn’t last and who’s to say who is to blame, who could not stand the wait. The lines you spin, so soft across my mouth I will murmur like quotes I have read in books, but the hooks that pull you closer to the truth, are teeth in my bottom lip demanding I be closer to you. Undertones whisper past my ears as your hands find themselves tangled in my curls and I lose myself to your voice, calming and soothing, as strange as that may seem. The tone you have set is one of urgency, but with a need to get the point across and not lost in it’s volatile haste.

The words you lose to my mouth in a kiss, and I forget the voice you are using, because I no longer need to hear you because I feel you instead. The strife, the iron in your soul and the somehow simultaneous fear and lust for life are pulling me into you. Or you into me. The body paragraphs have come together all so suddenly that I could cry out, but your mouth swallows mine and I am enthralled with the story we are writing for a short time. While you cannot doubt yourself, while I am free and neither are second guessing. We take advantage of such moments with a vigilante manner as if to say it was what should have been happening all along. My nails and teeth on your collarbones give you that extra, that bite of reality you needed to know you were on the right track. We spread out a colorful vocabulary of bruises and smears and scratches on our pages, tearing at all the feelings we assess only under wearisome candlelight and strong liquor. You have come full circle and your hands firm on my hips are when you make your final call to end the case, eyes on mine and mouths only responding to the other instead of their original owner.

We have reached our conclusion, or have we? Fiction or reality?

i fall asleep at six in the morning on weekends,
but through the weeks i collapse as as soon as
ten.

i think ***** has become my new lover,
he leaves hickeys, caked like dried
paint.
he doesn’t disappoint, slurring in words
heavy and foamy.

you are mad.
(because i no longer need you)
but i will crave you until my insides
**** the earth.

maybe that is why being sober for too long
scares me.
we always preach about never becoming our
parents, yet before we realize it we are talking, eating like them.
my mothers boots are too tight.
i think your fathers fight just right.

you miss me now, because all you have is my ghost.
and i hope she haunts you every step of the way,
because for three years you
haunted
me.
and i still can’t fall asleep without
drowning within
you.
i hate sleeping alone.
i hope you do too.