I want to drown in the colours of your soul as Crystallized water embellish your skin, tiny pearls of shiver trickling down your spine.
Category: Uncategorized
Poetry Marathon poem #17
You went to sleep? What are you doing? This is important. I have a busy day of planned accidental meetings and a long drive ahead of me. Maybe something to look forward- towards what? The horizon will always be there, steady unmoving just so damn…
Poetry Marathon poem #16
He sighed, content, i could die. Pause. fuck that, i’m fulfilled, not done. one. two. thee for you. epistle letters arranged poem to prayer to page. the risk. the rush. leaf the loose losses scattered sheets prophets parchment swiftly seeking for information gleaned and cleaned…
To Whom is May Concern
Hour 23 – 4:00 AM Poet at it’s best; Writer at it’s worst. I try not to put so much emphasis on my writer’s curse. Much evaluated; Lots unrevealed. To whom shall we keep from the secrets of Solomon’s seal. To the builders of…
Wry sense of self
This human suit of flesh and blood no longer serves it purpose. The crippling fear turning sighs into a howl; with skin too tight, eyeball crawling out from its socket. I wonder if you ever saw me in scorching daylight? Troll-like features, glued together in…
My Transformative Journey Poem 23
This morning I was someone else A long days journey into self Words pulled from forgotten places Reading posts from new familiar faces Walking a prompt, rewiring an avenue Pulling hats off of rabbits, changing my venue An endless journey finally drawing to end…
Morning ritual
He woke me up with a kiss on my forehead and the scent of pancakes and bacon coming from the kitchen. He whispered goodmorning as he caressed my hand. I sat up in the dark room lit by the television and the possibilities he wanted…
She thinks herself uncreative
She thinks herself uncreative. Like she has no original bone in her body. She thinks herself as not being able to think outside the box. She fears not being able to break away from the mediocrity. But, there’s spark in these wee lad. There’s an…
Sacrilege
I spoke to him of gentle ways, how one can treat it almost like an illness. The frenzy turmoil and hollow insides, as a joke between gods and humans.
#23, Silly
You. You are my laughter. Tickles and fart jokes. Finger in my nose. Fingers on my feet. Making me squirm and shriek. Laughter twinkles through the bedroom doors. You hold me down and put your ass on my arm and rip one. Gross boy. 24…