screaming at low volumes
dearest Venus, tell me if you’ve read these silent nothings of empty orgies consisting of only you and I, Please? Would you tell me if the soft spot between your breasts was really meant for someone else? Is there an efficiency equation I could apply for the joy you provide to my over-lonely heart? I … Read moreletters to gods
You sleep like lions stalk i’m no diner worthy. just watching you dream, i would lay down for you to eat me.
two lovers cum just off from the other 5/8 – 2/3 – it’s a jazz rhythm the legs, Pushed up driven hard against walls, Pushed from the belly, up from the diaphragm palm flat upon Breast, breath in heavy beats in/out in/out slowing for the passion that demands each pore be inspected for genius lurking … Read morehepcat fuck
Momentarily reeling, head trying to spin stuck to an ugly body: it is the curse of thought. And all I can think of are my dirty fingers pinching the wet skin, the pelt of warm invitations squeezing firmly these lips hidden in pubic-hair forests, when, puckered by my pinching grimy digits, I plunge (never as … Read moretoo much, never enough
it’s a Brutal Sun that exposes my sins … A gruff voice describing my own failures … He says, “angel” and the moment clarifies: the price is words.
I won’t look at you. Will not. Will not want. You. Your eyes will not see me. Can not. Can not desire. Me.
Jump out of your eyes until attention is all that’s left; dower corpses animated on chemistry wasted upon chemical swaps / swamps. [ was it your voice ] [ I once dreamed ] [ each saturday night? ] it was not certainly
Nico goes to Jail. Sunday Morning we drink beer & Gin. In winter, the socks aren’t enough to keep you sober, or out of Jail. In Our World, the Absurd is the Norm and all the dying is just living backwards.
it is not your serene beauty, nor your agility in kindness; it is not your elegant dignity nor the way in which you say, no too quickly for me to protest. what, then, is it, that makes me want for you flower petals under your feet: the Buddha’s own grace? is it that i am … Read moreHow Did You Get In Here?
there is a heaven with 1920’s movie stars, glasses – sunglasses – to hide behind so no one knows it’s them; a tourniquet for the mind that only covers hair. going crazy like they go shopping day in and day out until the voices that said “you ain’t worth a shit” lie dormant in seas: … Read morescribbles of the dead