On a rainy day, court is in business.

There in the court

with the massive Queen

which sits in the middle of the great hall

just spitting out words to the masses, orders

Our lovely maiden–anticipates
swords unsheathed all in a row, stiff

a queue of would be gentlemen await her

across the entrance of the great hall.

While their hands tightly grasp their swords

their lips whispering of her great deeds,

it rains as the Queen loudly drowns away

a soothing sound of water coming down.

If it doesn't rain, the land withers.

If it doesn't rain, the crops die.

If it doesn't rain, there is no dinner.

If it doesn't rain, babies starve.

So she saves the world

enchanting crowds with red lips

floats across the open court

on her nimbus cloud.

Thoughts while she's getting naked

She looks cute
I like the way her hair smells
Her skin is so soft
Her thighs are as well
Her form envelops my mind
In the lustful things
That I am about to do
Between her thighs

As we climb the stairs

Past the gated door

Into her realm

of sexual ecstasy

Soft skin gives way to fingers
Coursing through closer
Just as she takes off her top
One thought comes to mind
With her sagging belly skin
Her reluctance to remove her bra
This whore is someones mother

Naked With Sour Girl

When she used to grab my shoulders, digging her nails
into my skin at the rhythm of our fucking, it used to be
enough to almost make me explode inside her. Now it’s not
enough to just have her nail marks on my back, I want
her bite marks on my neck, I want bruises on my sides
from her thighs wrapping themselves hard around me
as I pound and choke her into ecstasy eternal, my balls
covered in our cum.

There was something about needles that always
perturbed me, something about the way they would
plunge into my veins and then made all that liquid
disappear. It just never seemed natural. Then
one day I had my first taste of an opiate, intravenously,
and my relationship with needles changed drastically.
I had never felt such exhilaration at the elation of that hard
steel needle, plunging through my being, penetrating me,
then releasing its payload into my vein. It still
makes me hard every time I think about Sour Girl, my heroin.

Now this old companion has grown, it has
made its way into the circles I keep and
without fail has taken the heads of
a few people I’ve escaped hell with. There is
something to be said about the ones who have cut off
their own strings and burnt their own bridges, but that
is another poem all together about floating corpses
in the milky waters of the river Alf.

Gin used to taste terrible, its strong flavor would
make the sides of my tongue burn, the place where
my jaw and skull met would ache, much the way Vodka
makes me feel today. Then it was distasteful, but today
it is what I usually like to order, and with a simple “Gin
and Tonic, please,” my youth slips down my throat.

Speedy drugs had never been something I wanted to try,
look at, or even get into. Time starts to change its flow as
one gets older though, the days get shorter, the change of the seasons
becomes more apparent and enunciated by the aching
muscles and bones. To keep up through the pain and fatigue,
now there will always be methamphetamine.

Sometimes it is easy to forget when I meet you,
sometimes I’m reminded after I pass you.
It is not so much that I’m afraid of you,
but of the experience I’ll be missing. I eat my drugs
and drink my gin, toasting to old friends I’ll never see again.

Untitled

Lyrics to a song I'm working on. It is untitled, I will try to post a video of it once I have it down. It might be a while.

For Now:

there are some places between spaces

you shouldn’t cross

there are some creatures in the darkness

who ride the lust

calico vision vestibulary

you wear that coat

cos a harsh winters’ a coming

and it brings a razor of teeth

its got that beard of yours in sight

and it’s gonna win

time for your void inside the news cycle

no time for tears

the drugs they feed you seem to make it better

and while we’re here

go on forget about the way she mattered

one sorted kiss

lost inside diatribes

kept away from light

stinking of pesticide

and it’s gonna kill

She said ­— way he keeps on knocking on his coffin

might make me sick

I wish he’d stop going on with that rattle

won’t let me sleep

there’s someone out there digging six foot holes

right in the shade

of a cherry blossom tree

green pastures, happy green hills

of happiness, I sigh

as she lowers me in

Good-Bye's: A juxtaposition.

There she is,
blonde hair and painted up face
with her beautifully crooked smile,
her soft eyes peering through the crowds.

"Where is he? He's not here.
Good.
Now I may resume life."

There he is,
black hair and painted up skin
with his beautifully crooked spine,
his bright eyes peering through the clouds.

"Here I am. She's not near.
Good.
Now I may start life."

Songs of Velvet inundate her ears
as warmth fills the back of her skull,
she collapses onto her bed–
dreaming of days long before.

"I rest my head upon my pillow.
Tired."

Songs' Folds inundate his ears
as cold mountain breezes brush his skin,
he rises from the stairs–
walking with carefully calculated steps.

"I lift my head into the sunlight.
Alive."

On Lizards

She coils like a snake
shedding her skin habitually
leaving remains of who she was,
or rather pretends to be,
along with the carcasses
of those she's consumed,
eaten whole, swallowed,
perverted.

There is a glimmer in her blue eyes
every time her tongue sticks out
to sense the air around her,
tasting for a fix, hoping
to feel the warmth of the cold night.
A field of dust is laid before her
she crawls upon it with belly swollen,
the last victim of her bite.

She leaves trails behind
as her body moves, a straw,
clearing the powdery surface,
revealing beneath the rotten ground
kept from sight, hidden,
until her swift movements
clear a woven path visible
to those who dare pay attention
to the swollen mess that is left behind.

She coils around again,
having found comfort
upon the tiled bathroom floor
of a broken down house
with cracks on the walls
as it tries to hold up the sins of a past
which extends thousands of years.
Poe would have cried
at the sight of such visage.
Skin flakes, scales glow,
her long tongue sticks out into the night
as her brilliant mind is numbed away.

Second round of publications

This is my second time being published in the publication P'an Ku, a bi-yearly publication for Broward College.

Peaches

Her black hair flows over her shoulders
like the weights of time weigh upon mine.
Except her's is beautiful,
while mine is just a reminder.

A reminder of a clock counting down,
but who is to say that death itself is not beautiful
that the act of disappearing is not joyous,
only to be left in the memories of the few.

Coming up my throat I feel a snake crawling
inching it's way past my esophagus
cutting off access to lungs
and all of this is just one instant.

She waves a salute of goodbye,
never knowing when that bright smile
kind eyes and soft voice
will inundate the soft recesses of my mind

where pleasure is stored
and create a chemical reaction some have come
to call love, making me addicted to you.
I wonder how long this withdrawal will take.

How long my veins will ache
and my head will pound screaming
"more... more... more..."
with rivers flowing from those orbs

which knew and gladly accepted
the glow of your being
the curves of your body
the taste of your words.

Time stops when I'm around you
and death takes a step back.

Thinking

Tropical weather
topical anesthetics
copious and copacetic
moments washed up in the rain
as complimentary peanuts
are served with a hepi pen
contraceptive wet dreams
of triangles in obtuse realities
commence a new day
once the sun goes down.

Wishing on Dandelions

Dandelions are made for wishing
one thought followed by
a soft whispered kiss
from tender lips
into the wilderness of the world
and within that beautiful chaos
a white ball of seeds explodes
into a thousand pieces
each carried by the wind
hoping to find that heart
to set root in
and grow.

for now the warmth of the ethreal kiss
tender and joyous
keeps the hearth warm
during the nights they still haven't found
one another
at least  now they know
they are not alone.

The Needle

Every time the needle tears through her flesh

to find that jumbled mess she likes to call a vein

it is her soul which slowly seeps out in amber drops

down her arm, pressure tied off by a tourniquet.

In order to forget the pain left behind by heavy hands

to extinguish flames burning so bright

that only the milky waters of the river Alf

may extinguish her core in an explosion

of eternal ecstasy
an orgasm
meant to last an eternity

but only felt for a few minutes

because nothing is eternal,

only pain is.

He wanted to hold her but he knew she was not aware

of her nature and way of being.

That her own life was inundated with the facts

that she was not like the rest of them

and quite aware she still pushed away

those who understood and were willing to help

to understand how life can be and is, 'cos

when the world is a jigsaw you need to put it together.

He knew what she was and it scared her

he saw through her skin

onto the punctured veins

and it scarred her.

It never ceased to amaze him
her beauty eternal

the way eyes glowed in the light of the moon

tender fingers ran over scar tissue

soft kisses invaded her body

as he gave of himself to her.

Because it is no the way we think it is

not as if life has everything set up.

it is chaos in a civilized society

set up to illuminate the cauldrons of reality

with the hearth of hearts
beating strongly against one another

as she soaks her panties under her clothes

he grows inside his boxer shorts

both kissing on a couch

late at night

as her hair falls over his face

and she pulls upon his dreads.

 She drags him to the bedroom

and takes her pants off

as he grabs her from behind and with one hand

buried in her crotch

feels the rivers of love flowing fast

his cock jumps
she grabs it behind her

squeezing as it pulses, she turns around

penetrates his mouth with her tongue.

She sit's back onto the bed

legs spread, one hand saying

"Hither forth."

He kneels in front of her and kisses freckles

upon her face

neck

breasts

stomach

thighs

ankles

feet

legs

thighs

pelvis

he then swims into her

lashing his tongue

she thrusts herself onto him.

The needle comes out

it penetrates her vein

and the water of life pours into her

an orgasmic overflow

she caresses the shaft of her syringe

feels the pain and the memory go away.

Because in the dark

Can't buy snack packs, as

they have two servings,

after one you are satisfied and

the rest might just spoil.

Couldn't go to the movies

because in the dark,

when it's cold and scary,

there is no one to hold on to.

Didn't celebrate anything,

because it always reminds of

how dull it all is when

there is no one to share with.

Laugh at a favorite comedy show

babble "Oh Liz Lemon, you're so funny!"

at a screen in an empty apartment full of cats,

neighbors think you are crazy.

Go to sleep with a pillow in your arms,

because it's a subtle reminder of the

softness and warmth once felt

from a gentle encounter.

Look into green eyes with wonder, and

loose the self in the swirls.

Those eyes are not for you,

leave empty handed.

Three Steps

Every time she takes two steps forward
he takes three steps back
it's not like he doesn't want her near
or would not enjoy the scent of her
closer to him
his senses invaded by her touch
the taste of her skin
the color of her eyes.

It's a pain he's felt before
that of being open and honest
of allowing her to invade every cell
penetrating each wall inside of his organism
once he drinks from her.

Being afraid of being
and loosing everything,
because
what he is isn't what you'd
come to expect
from a soul in a meat bag.

He adorns himself with scars from the past
each tells a tale of a woman he's loved
moments
etched onto his skin
caricatures
scribbled into the layers
reaching beneath the surface
burrowed
just like all of them.

Three steps back,
while she takes two forward.

He pushes away because of
dishonest
obtuse
obituaries
which his heart has written
for different parts of itself.

What would be so different today,
tomorrow,
or any time at all?
Those who are willing to break the walls
and seek audience with his heart
will be given the time
to make a case for custody,
to hold and respect.

Three steps back,
three steps forward.
He wonders what she hopes to accomplish
as soft tender lips reach for his own.