Hour 14: Cock.

read it like a scripture,
and tore up the pages,
set sights on the red horizons,
and has his body on my mind.
The last few lines, injected me with pleasure,
he ruled every letter for every word, from out of my timid mouth,
it went…
soft caverns:
my last prayer was for him to punish me senseless,
but he loved me too much, he couldn’t empty himself into my violet chambers.
he whispered it’d be indecent and he wanted to keep me pure, whatever that meant.
he was a marvel, enigmatic savior of my blackened sky,
hetero-deity, washed his skin in apple vinegar, he would linger and speak me senseless,
his ideas cascaded like weed and unsmoked cigarettes, with their scent and my indecision,
i levitated with every tepid warning from my body,
to be indecent meant to rule the kingdom, I was desirous, but not just for flesh.
say it’s long, say it’s ugly, say it’s impure
say it beautiful, say it mingling in the desperate spot,
he fought his way into smoke city, fucked all who were capable of pure power,
and in the aftermath, I stood his test of time.
to be sublime and relentless, dispossessed of all claims,
I ruled the small lands, with his bated breath, I fought for warmth,
and his sweaty hands to cover me.
I knew fire, but not like this, I wished for everything to fit in one place,
and counted my blessing and stole demon’s from satan’s den,
and I dare not cause a scene, when discussing how much control he has on me and the world.
Some shape-shifting wolf in the forest, found the castle and upheld his desires,
to rule the world and create, out of habit, he made a claim to punish.
I want to punish the skies with his embrace, and laugh in his face,
and say his cock is the only beautiful thing about his body,
but those lies would cave us in and I’m dying for some sentiment from out of his godly mouth.

Hour 13: Royal Blue

1. met on the ocean where perfect sun-drenched blue ate our doubts.
2. it’s the closest to being magic I will ever get, but when wind whips us, all the chills will disturb the calm.
3. is there anything worth the sapphire eyes and drowning?
4. could come and turn me into a dream, rain hosted my soul and never let me go in the space we filled with tundra blue, never kissed you blue, ate all my blue and never asked me to come back.
5. I was royal blue on your lips when you licked all the sentiments off my skin and hugged me like I were a savior but not quite. I died all the time against your shameless need for me.
6. you told me to be grumpy was the best medicine for your disappointment.
7. I was royal blue and I felt holy right then.
8. I never looked good without the moon and tonight I prayed for new flesh, and I don’t think about it, like I should think about it.
9. come hold me in the snow, an ocean of green and teal, and disturbed and we slept for months,
and everything went white and back to blue, some sort of cleanse,
I could pretend so harshly for you.
10. I was royal blue and I felt so much more disturbed in the venom song.
11. We met on the ocean and I turned all the secrets into rogue waves and let the silence eat our doubts and I’m shitty for being so needy and I was royal blue and there was nothing you could do, to rid yourself of me.

Hour Twelve: Piel Marrón

but i was soothing you in the endless supply of my Spanish blood,
give you the elixir to life, teach you how to swim in death valley, in the rivers all across,
the southern tip of my love.
I am against fragile, tanned flesh, resurrecting ghosts,
my ancestors paved the way and I’m still abusing their history.
i am impulsive, needy and short, my thighs are cornerstones to fragility,
my masculinity is lackluster and you’re such a pale god,
I hate the sun when it’s rooted in despair,
I lay there, trying to thread mindfulness into my skin,
and I grip your name like my last savior, some sort of holy thing,
but I am speaking in riddles, my brown skin,
mud under your feet, in the white-temple moon, the river draining out of my muse,
out of you,
ivory god, splendid in his foreign tongue,
conviction and licked his lips,
I was dirty and ruined.
I understood all of it, when you love all these women,
and I am but your friend in the eves of disaster,
a true lover, but no one ever slept together in divinity,
I could sell you love poems made with all my secrets,
and captivate every possessing demon from out of you.
We talk about the universe and the particles, frequencies to shift the eve of our dying breath,
become success when we refuse temptation, so many things to uncover and discover,
I must bleed again and speak in tongues,
in my brown skin I have evolved to be more than you thought,
this was thicker than water, the rush of my fingers to your throat,
here we go, against blood-stained sheets, from birthing in the unknown,
we have found safety.
I rummage these corridors, searching for a way to be just like you,
but my brown skin gets lost in translation though we speak the same language,
it is biology, building us in spreading lines and these depths have dissolved us.
come back and retract every acidic word,
I will speak to you because fortune favors the brave,
and I can save you, save you with this brown skin, undying skin, loving you, pale divine.

Hour 11: Nihilistic Part III.

and we circle back, a routine, suffering in a broken hymnal.

a serpent ate your fruit,

punished you in your desolate lands,

stuck you out in the garden against the burning sun,

to think you had all the bones and all the gold between your fingers,

shuffling the universe in your hands,

you hold infinity as a lover,

claim that duality was still despair,

darkness met your light and fucked it until there was nothing left,

nothing matters, we exist, in this temporary state,

but I am blessed in diamond skin, wincing at the thought of never finding eternity.

I see weakness glide off your skin, you hold me in the wind, and say do not go, but do not stay,

I crave every opportunity, when you stole my eyes and told me to see something bigger than this,

but you say nothing exists in color.

a serpent keeps stealing you, eating your fruit,

and plucking hope from your mouth,

I doubt the ruling of this land,

our garden flourishes but you demand a desert, I cannot give you that,

when there is still so much to offer.

we have left this land in favor of growth,

come follow me into the 5th dimension,

steal all the prayers, and turn away and give nothing back.

Hour 10: spill blood

you shall witness,

the knife,

you shall begin to inherit the earth from my flaming tongue,

as I resist every urge to pull you out of sleep,

wake you from nightmares and dreaming.

I suck in the light, I suck cock, I suck in sadness,

I suck everything out of the world, except you.

I respect you,

but you shall witness my waning light.

you shall fuck your way into her eyes and back to mine,

I am but a man to your hetero-hedonism, I am but a pig, in your wolf den,

I am but a death bed, and you shall be the witness to my miracle.

Peeling back pleasure and revolving around you like a planet meeting the death sun,

this is the only one, holding back.

I suck in the essence, and I bring you the energy,

You shall invest all your time in forgetting and building,

when the waves become desolate and weak,

we will plummet from this edge and retreat into another eternity, believe it,

you shall witness,

as I cut ties with desperation and rush you out of this fragile home.

I will rush you into her arms as you put your cock between her rose,

and cut the thorns of love and give me the aftermath,

I understand what it means to be pleased, and put pleasure ahead of true romance,

and love was a disaster when I put a cancer-stick to my lips,

and whipped back and forth, repeating useless things to the kingdom.

I spill blood as sacrificial doom, to assume we were making something die,

but that was a lie and we are burying truth in favor of rising.

You are god, you are my witness, as we slip into lover’s beds that we do not let survive this wintering,

We will pour our energy into this religious prayer of skin,

and bare witness to growth and change.

I love the way you say my name when wrapped between her legs,

I am second guessing every thing as you plummet into her depths,

I sweat and spill blood waiting for your return,

this will be an ending to begin in our universe.

The dust is cosmic and rushing in like waves and water washes us clean,

hold back all tense feeling,

come back reeling from your softened spear,

you cut deep, and will it be enough, to be the witness and evolve,

we spill blood and don’t ask where it came from,

but we know where we’re going, and so we go, one more token in this evolution,

come burn the evidence, you shall be my witness, and you shall transcend,

after all, the soul is not to rush.

Incantation Part II.

and you’re smoking cigarettes, drawing out bitterness,

lacking emotions, yet you come in with the fury,

come raging against me, your eyes spill oblivion and claw their way out of pain.

and you’re smoking cigarettes and taking hits from the pipe,

higher than God could ever be, in the heavens you swarm, bees buzz in your wrapped brain,

haunted by the disdain for the world, ushering me into a new world, telling me to trust no one,

but I trust you, so what is there to cling to, when all we do is rush about,

pretending we’re gods, but less holy when we fuck our way to the top,

but not on top of each other, in front of the kingdom, the gates are golden and bleeding,

these veins pulse waiting for you to get another drink,

while I shuffle my words in my back pocket,

watch you cascade, an incantation to the demise of your past life.

You kill every opportunity to rise, this power is cutting you up,

I am involved, so what does it mean, I could never contain all of it,

in one place, as the rhythm glided on your skin, to be apart and pull apart,

all transaction.

And you’re smoking cigarettes, brushing against me, some sort of magic in the air,

god-like, but every reason to be more impressive, it suggests, we are rising once more,

in the dissolution,

an incantation, written in our discipline, in your bitterness,

i will kiss away every agony with my touch,

and watch the fires burn behind your brown eyes, dead eyes come back to life in the dirty midnight,

where sunset came and took all pleasure out of you,

what to do, we have some magic here, I want none, so you take all of it.


Hour 9: Perpetua 11

1. Turn me inside out, then turn me, wear me like a coat, hold your secrets in my pockets, keep me hidden until winter.
2. I am summer fury, let the heat dismantle you, let the memories burden you with sweaty nights with dreams about the way we used to be.
3. I caught your lies on my tongue, you won’t say it, I won’t say it, we did explain, in the sea, when you were drowning me in all your attempts to get the world from out of my body.
4. You used to dip your feet in the pool because you were afraid something might drag you down if you jumped straight in, isn’t there some magic to fear nothing at all, but everything at the same time?
5. I saw those pictures you drew of those girl’s vaginas, laughing as though they would all magically appear in front of you, you thought it was so funny, I cried and thought only deadly things.
6. What was time but a little box on your shelf, you told me to open it, to reveal all the things that would be and never be, that were, and never were.
7. She kissed you around midnight, thought you would turn into a prince, the frog gets the last laugh.
8. I drew maps of your body, a way to define your lungs and your heart, until you ripped the picture up and told me to draw the way around your home, the way to your home and back to mine, because the distance would define us, not anything else.
9. I had dreams last night of this serpent killing you, fucking you, and putting you back to sleep, I couldn’t sleep after that, but damn, you snored all night and woke up the next day and said it was the best sleep you ever had. I know I’m crazy now.
10. Come into my midnight agony, watch me play with your emotions, facebook is my game, watch me not reply to your message for 30 days and come crawling back like some bad joke that didn’t land so I try again. I am all and everything especially after you pretend I am what you want. So come one, come all, come on, come back.
11. i play with rituals, hoping to resurrect you from death or absence, I am a constant storm, readying my form to please you. In this perpetual cycle of grief and mischief, I’ve come to maintain the light in your cavern of darkness, come and linger, this won’t last long.

Hour Eight: Omens.

He sat back in an abandoned complex,

flirting with the evening,

touching her pretty flesh,

he’s so lovely, he is, puncturing fragile skin,

and summoning demons when he breathes.

I felt the world at the tip of his fingers,

as he brushed stardust across the room,

I fell down into his black hole curse,

as he pursed his lips and whispered in her ear.

He was the last of it,

He dripped down into my vision, staining the day with quick incisions on my body,
he wept for days and called me home, after he was done with her,
sold magic to my backwards daydream,
sold himself to the fury,
sold me to the crimson god on his body,
turned me inside out and wore like an autumn coat,
told me not to doubt, the ruling of the new world.
as flames became inferno love,
I knew it then,
this was the final omen.

Hour Seven: Era Erratic

i, spellbound, have turned a ritualistic pattern into a death bed.

i, ritualistic, have turned the death bed into a mating ground,

not mating for fulfillment, to enrich the dusty corridors of our desires.

We lay in the aftermath, dizzying and erratic,

I am fantastic as history repeats itself with another wound.

I am cancerous and needy, dreading the midnight woe of your silence,

When the time is spreading us thin, another calendar day, I set fire to every living thing in your hallways.

I want to feel the pulse of your agony, grip me when we sleep.

i, in the mating ground, have turned myself over to mother darkness,

slept in her womb for years, and then grew up and fucked my way to another ending,

spelling out the eras with my acidic tongue and your foreign flesh,

I gripped your power, master, let me lead you into oblivion.

I am erratic, in the sense of fury distress on every word we left behind in our disaster room,

I assume we called it quits when the moon disappeared from the sky,

everything has its limit.

I built an era from your absence, and I mark the days with blood.

Hour 6: Wristlav Part III

Dear Wristlav,

go with it,

It seems that I’ve been given up to temptation,

led into the slaughterhouse, making of a king’s crown,

bleed out, ripple out like a stone sunk into our bitter lake of memory,

painting images, mirrored like your father, but so much more majesty,

encased in demonic agency, you whisper, “Oh I am not like you…” as you shed your skin to reveal his bone.

I recognized you at once,

cigarettes empty in your lungs, waterfall run down into your smoke-pit valley,

someone did the most, and the ghosts cling to our fragility, echoing all we swore to hide.

It goes away, these guilty wants and needs, subside, recede into our kingdom,

Don’t you get, don’t you get that you’re the last of it?

The final one, how could I ever swallow all of you,

All of your burdening dreams and power, I could never build from it the way I need.

I miss you as distance sinks its teeth into our thin frames, and sucks us dry,

just like those lovers that beam in your eyes for two seconds and go out like a dirty flame.

I can say the world is on your shoulders, and I can feel it on me, your weight,

and the thin frame of us,

do not lose it in a lost cause, we found home once more.