Creeping across the ocean
Like a girl in gray silk
Stealing in after a late night,
Shoes left at the door.
Tiptoes over wooden floors.
Trailing wisps of dreams
With the lightest of kisses.

Coiled tightly, a spring
Loaded with thoughts.
Pinballs endlessly searching
For a top score.
Ricocheting in the brain
Like a flexible bullet,
Wreaking havoc without
The final word.
A blossoming idea
And a pen without ink.
The lethal archer
With a crooked arrow.
Never hitting the target.

hatchet-faced features
of the very young
who try to look tough
as they finger their guns

poised to step off
into a lie
and begin a walk
where any can die

the hidden mines
await their feet
poised to turn them
into lumps of meat

children really, barely
old enough to shave
with feet never farther
than a step from the grave

  ~mce

she slides her slender
white fingers down the
branches of his spine

her eyes melted like
glaciers and lips as soft
as freshly fallen snow

skin lustful, but heart
unforgiving, exhaling
his every intention

she is autumn in his
palms, her trees bare,
the leaves rust fallen

flashing indifference,
thoughts plucked in
shades of violent rose

With your hands
Held aloft
And passion blazing in your eyes,
Your voice resonates
In an empty room
For the audience
Strain to hear
The whispers from the shadows.
And the applause
Echoing in your ears
Is merely a work of fiction.
Those who shout loudest
Will be the first
To lose their voice.