so this is my black lace headdress ( Read more... )

you are kissing me swollen and sore
looking, face upturned, expectant and pure
we are losing our shirts to the mess on the floor
laughter seeping out through the cracks in the door

thought i'd dip my feet
beneath those lukewarm waves
maybe architect some grainy shore
but the undertow is stronger here
now i'm tumbling with each tide
and the sky won't lead me home
oh! just wash me up or pull me under!

don't let me drift alone.

amazing what sort of near-utopia appears
caught up in the vague curtain of fever-dream humidity.

(your curious absence notwithstanding)

somehow, i don't satisfy.

the crisp cruelty of a burtonian november has taken up residence under my feet,
becoming the delicate crumbles left in the wake of a frightful heart
and i cannot seem capture a cure for this virulent vacancy
(these sheets are lacking)
but you should know i'd prefer to pull you up, over my head
and wait out this snow.

I've begun filling my days
With the rich and the dense
A glazed and nectarous isness

'Cause current comfort
Can only be found
in the most fiery of mouths

In mine
In yours

A man can be seen (by streetlight ( Read more... )

after years spent in desperation
trying to shed this dead skin
i've come to find
that i've scrubbed myself pink
one too many times

when i'm here i can be a streetwalking vagrant and get lost and never find anyone ( Read more... )