no use in waiting
i changed my digits
although i said i’d stay
there next to the receiver
i wised up your touch so nice
you needed me you said
on your wall trophies
paintings of the ones who
you needed before
it’s ok i’m an adult
i have my trophies too
Lust
lustful haiku
berries placed upon
my achingly thirsty tongue
cooling scorching kiss
a selva
como essas flores fluem assim como o oxigenio do meu amor chama
dendrite and soma
the network of your arms
strong like a cedar tree
fingers from both of our hands
connecting transporting us
to those sinfully delicious places
our animal scents my sweet flavors
pony express urgently
via dendrite and soma
speeding messages between our hearts
mine located where a heart should be
yours more toward your mid center
wet dream
sheets wrap what is left of me
apple wood scent fills the air California burns again and again
all organs supple still throbbing where they need to
thrilling fancies pool around my head eyes closed your face i read in the darkness of it all
lips brush tenderly drinking of my well from dark to light no one dispels the rumours that encircle you
in your hands i am burning like Califa queen arms let go no pressure felt safety net falls into hell
the grail lays on it’s broken side empty in your hands it once stood brimming with love scent intoxication down the surface of my legs
in your hands my history of civilization lips give way to carnal cries teeth gnash eyes shut tight
the comet passes through my skin truth lies in secret screams revealed
to me you’re just a dream
fish eye
at first view i sparkled like a sinking blade in the sullen opal ocean
coming closer into the blinding dark a she Sun rose
open there i was to the cataract lens of luminescent death gaping mouth uttering finally nothing
my armored scales resplendent no more were plucked away with the dance of she wind’s torrential hair while absence in my marrow was shivered
my bones were to be the same of Jonah’s host and handler
prophet spitter
the hooks have gotten thicker
on the surface of my mind
Sunday eve
want
to want you to kiss my mouth hungry like a starving dog deep inside the tendrils of time perhaps inside of Tutankhamun’s tomb where he laid wrapped in magic to want you to look in me and search with your fingers like a carpenter looks for nails in an old rusty Folgers tin that looks much like my heart to want to breath you in like when you turn and give a final glance at a coffin’s bouquet of roses of your fallen enemy to want to scratch and dig my woman’s claws into your back as your masculine identity fucks my sad out to want to possess the honesty of a very small child to want to have the courage to do a lot of things and in the midnight sky when my eyes upturn alone i catch a snippet of the music of Shakespeare’s heavenly spheres that only the angel’s can hear
vos lèvres
thin and cold
red where i bit them
the whisker burn on my chin
your grip around the small of my back
tightens like a snake while wet drunken bitter blood tinged lips suckle the wilderness from mine
Dionaea muscipula
flowers are nice but i didn’t get them often the guys i dated weren’t romantic i guess it’s ok i get me flowers now and again i do love a good road trip and the feel of wind in my hair i’ve never been one to lend herself to tight long hugs it frightens me or when i got to like it they left me its best to kiss first wham bam thank you man and then run away forever i love a nice juicy philosophical conversation or if i could find someone like Tesla i admit that it gets tricky when lust calls but he wants a commitment and i’m not prepared to fold so i’ll walk and i’ll think i’ll paint and i’ll stall i’ll fly and i’ll land in his nest when he is vulnerable
words less spoken 