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Spare Changea fallen caress down manhole pits,
it's the river eyes that brim the tar
to seal the streets where your coffee spills
a parched upon desert. drink latte bones
and a merged Washington face; a founder
eating the slums of his nation
Pacifistthere are burdens you carry - sludge weighed
into earth, though she spits between your toes
all the things you could achieve without shoulders
and evolution sees your children bearing weight
sinking down as industrial relics
Human Dumpyou are the place where things return
shambled structure overrun, but there is
something in your skin that speaks
hobbled pebble teeth that swallow
if only in a language I could understand.
limp-leg wander through seasonal transitions
like autumn into winter as you gather and
throw the dead things away
wreathedimprints and fir trees collaborators spreading
wrought nettle crowns roundabout my thumbs.
it’s all acoustics but shouldn’t fingers look less
like powdered doughnuts and more like
twined poet-veins bloodlessly beating;
four-leafed clover breaths - all smoke
and no cancer
Errareshe cried for river-boys, shook
desperation canyons into rubble only
to sing of love and mulberry kisses
but I could hear the sadness in her eyes
she cliff-ran for paradise, capsizing
honey-pots as ocean halos hiding age-old hands.
they reached and they stole glass trinkets that
heart-beat and hoped, these glamour pieces
her soiled garden growing sunflowers
and the rot of hallelujah husks; but she
has always been wrecked by men.
In A Boy's Dreamroses be my vanity, citrus stung
in sunshield orchards, bare skin to skin
in this winter heat; flesh-cocooned to hide
but cobras uncoil in a second skin
—as any other man— and he leaves
his blue eyes behind —now fully grown—
ground dust on my heart to carry
docility did not crown me a lover
The Boy Who Wouldnt EatIf you can flutter
I have failed you,
for you were not forged
to be so insubstantial as that
You were writ
to be an epic fable
of endings ignored,
of outlasting your body
through the sheer will
of a writers starving heart
through a broken, bowed
but bravely abiding body
that fights the soul
to comprehend Beauty.
Five AMPre-dawn darkness again, seething, quiet
A monster hugging the city
How heavy, how suffocating it is
The clock has run down on time for dreaming
A void between night and morning
Ready to swallow everything up
A time for old men's reflections
On love, and loss, and sorrow
Oppressive black sky, you eat everything
But the all-night diner
Where lonely old men sit
Drinking coffee at five AM
QuicksandYou trapped me
Dragged me below the surface
And held me there
You chained me
Put brass around my ankles
And left me struggling
You broke me
Beat me with whips made of hate
And hurt me more
You changed me
Made me who you wanted
And killed me inside
You hid me
Stole me away from the light
And made me blind
You crushed me
Blew my dust in the wind
And danced on my grave
surrounding my body
And now I'm twenty feet under
With no chance of being saved
From Your 'Secret' AdmirerHeaven,
this is not a love letter
I will swear to God,
with a halo on my head
and a hole in my heart.
But the fact is I revere you
more than I have any right to.
After all, we are nothing except
who have awkward conversations.
So why is it that every time the line
falls silent I panic, worrying that your shadow
will make my efforts nothing but a distant memory,
when every word you speak strongly marks my mind?
Simple: I fear having something to lose
and losing the nothing I have. You are
treasure to me, and this note becomes my confession.
Sincerely- I typed this, but I'm sure you'll recognize the handwriting.
Death, Judgment, RebirthLast Time in the ICU
Shadow rats, beady red eyes focused hungrily
Stay still too long and they’ll swarm
Sharp little teeth rending flesh
They know the sick and weak
They can wait
Tenth floor ICU, down with the disease again
He’s resting quietly, the nurse says
She looks like a huge black rat
Does she know what’s happening?
Closing the door
She walks away
Sweet childhood dreams are interrupted
Rats gnawing away at the edges
Toothy little kisses all over
Cleaning, cleansing scurry
Down to the bone
Sentenced to Live
Firelight, poker-faced patchwork man reading aloud
An old but vaguely familiar tome, his tone is somber
Was I one of the wicked? Weren’t we all?
Who can say that they were good?
Sentenced to live yet another life
I cry; I’ve had enough living
I want to sleep forever, leave my shell behind
To crumble to dust, useless, I won’t need it
Every door opens to the same world
Is this hell, then? The onl
give me a challenge, give me you.i have grown
the blood in my veins
have become more
than plasma, and i
am now trapped
within my own hollowed-out
this haze of
has to be transitory--
i can't let it be anything
The partyFlashing lights
Smoke all around
About to pass out
My head starts to hurt
I can't take this anymore
So without saying anything
I find the exit
And escape that place
"How can someone have fun in there?"
are winter fire
that warms my body,
that stokes my heart.
is velvet gloss
through my hair,
under my shirt.
is silk screen
beneath my fingertips,
between my lips.
moves like ocean water,
washes over me,
floods every inch of me.
clinging to your cheeks,
puddling the pillow,
caught inside my kiss.
palm to palm with mine,
soft and breathy in my ear,
loud and gasping
against my mouth.
pressing against mine,
rising to meet me,
applauding in rhythm.
grasping at my shoulders,
sliding down my chest,
clinging to my skin.
squeezing me tightly.
arching up to me,
tilting back your chin,
pressing us so close.
undulating in excitement,
trembling in joy,
shivering with delight.
echoing inside my head,
calling out to the universe,
telling me everything.
tender and delicate,
DistemperOh, did you scream?
No, ninety ravens
released from the rack of my ribs
in a ravage of wings
have disquieted the cat.
Oh, an aspirin for my mind
(lay your head in my hand
drink me down, feather-drown)
thin its belly-close blood
uphold the constitution
of my hollow-cast heart.
[Fire the dragon
the fairy waters her way
across the winter]
So stout, so ale,
hold fast, touch bone
Oh, you would rather die
than bring home bad meat.
My Veined MetropolisIn my thoughts crept concrete walls and
heavy artillery: I was two hundred feet tall
with small feet, misplacing my steps so as not
to crush the ants in business suits
Thinking of the lonely things, of the towers
that ate the sky: egg yolk teeth and carnivorous
stars. Then foolish was I when the flood came in
and swept away cotton cities, helicopter seeds blown
to yesterday …but never beyond
Still salvaging soggy clockwork frames
as they litter here tomorrow, all pepper trails and
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More