I’m in love with the black leather lily
Sequin rose: she was looking so good
That rock’n’roll woman
Singing on a countryside stage
Doused in pink and blue light

I’m once bitten
But twice aggressive
I’m hungry and I’m craving
I don’t have a record
Of either the rock’n’roll
Or cell block persuasions
But I’ll be doing my time
Somewhere soon

Love bites on my neck
Imaginary and sensual
I know what I want
And I know how to get it
But I can’t seem to kick myself off
And there’s no one who clicks
And there’s no one who would meet
My tongue with their tongue
Let alone my voice, with their notes

I’m looking for something
I wouldn’t call it rare
But I’m questioning the scarcity
I want something stimulating
Intellectually and sexually
By the look in your eye
So clueless and vacant
I know that I’m not going to find it
Any time soon

There’s a feeling that I’m chasing
The humming and the strumming
Of a sanctified guitar
And the lips of a poet
Which aren’t mine
It’s electric and eclectic
A bohemian mind
But I’m stuck in suburbia

Lipstick swatches
On the back of my hand
A trio of matte hues
But the one I wear
With a virginal kiss
The colour’s called
Girl next door
But I haven’t been
The girl next door for a while now

once we were one, so close
now turncoat in lakes of
oleander, creeks run poison
we two betrayed

what stolen ideal cast
in stone against her?
my anima still wants love
from me, yet twists on proverbial

dime

coats were rejected
colors negated, unflown
prisoner of tumble town
chained like a queen

a shanty wish disregard
so no wings, air of nonesuch
grace barrio color to fly

in my mind, sleeping
mariachis playing loud,
my anima rescued me

real,  such desert here
just my shivering id
skinned seal, bad memory

still hopeful still here
surely mi anima mi alma
will grant my dying

wish

I am the traitor of my anima

Oh, you sorry fool
You've cut your fingers
Plucking on heartstrings again.
When will you learn?
Souls like his
Were not meant for
Souls like yours.
He will live his whole entire life
And not once
Think twice about the color of your eyes.

i am from waiting rooms
from linoleum floors and iv cords
i am from sirens
(they scream in the front yard
as loud as my mother)
i am from my father's sickness
an eight year old adult
i learned to care for everyone
but myself

i am from mixed drinks and four counts
from nights as blurred as her vision
i am from all the words she won't remember
and the way they distort my self image
from too much responsibility
i am from the mothers day cards
my litte sister addresses to me

i am from my only Florida home
avocados and iced tea
from shared stories in the back yard
the boy i loved, who broke my heart

in my closet there was a cardboard box
filled with skeletons and secrets
a mix of different memories
to never forget what built me
i am from those moments
the calm, the chaos
the lovely life i lived

s.s