rare as long as it is
for names to find their place back in this story
a faint heartbeat of crime
soaking and whimper
how can i resists such honest intentions?
how can the predator in me
resists the weakness in the prey
how come there’s a predator in me
and how dare i call you prey.
if i could you mirror
i would see friend – your name would never leave this pages
your grace and witt would be great company to my own
nothing is settled from forgiveness.
you will be the last lady of the year
how does it feel to be tarnished
unpolished used metals
grinding against the surface
how long did you have to hold your cheecks
before pretend softness felt
you fool no one
i wonder if you fool yourself.
if this world is smoke and mirrors
we are perfectly in sync
rushing to caress the the other’s plumes
watching rabbits soak up the trustuing.
i’ve seen you die in bed-sheets
strangled by the beast of apathy
yours is soft as your pi
lgramage to turn a blind eye
and look self reflection deep in the face of
not too deep.
perhaps rationality will suffice
too soothe and lull it back
still – there’s depth to the curves of your
intentions are clouded by pressures
i will have whats left over, and make it
dawns in strange places
and brazilian nuts
everything’s from africa.
good morning kisses and midnight cuddles make me curl away
when did arms become cages?
i miss everything i shouldn’t
we’re just a symptom of something sadder.
you’re still a child
wanting to pet the wolf
“because you can”
does the coat feel different from your carpet, rug, next-door mutt?
i bet you would
want to iron nature’s rug once it’s been tamed
the damage has already been done.
im going through portals
they remind me to dig your nails between the cracks
pull back the kind of the ordinary
pushing out of comfort
i hear blubber in your belly
the type of person
who needs tissues up their ass
you’re full of shit
too much too empty once.
snoring, lazy , coward.
foolish coyote proving bravery by picking
at the smallest bug
in case you weren’t aware;
doesn’t make you graceful
walking blindly into a forest
doesn’t make you brave
pulling blindly at the snake’s tail
make you childish, entitled, and a casualty
behaving like nature is something to own
there is nothing feral about you
there’s nothing about you that is wild.
your pamper paper butt moons shamefully
as you rummage through your back of useless
find me that fire starting kit
tell me how to start a fire “the real way”
then tell me that lightning excites you
as we drive down the hill
watching bodies of dead trees crumble.
im going to tell you
you will be visited by either the Lamb
or the Beast
but as usual,
only i will attend here.
like the moon who invented rhythm
i’m now a servant to civilization
who uninvited it.
theres been an ebb against potential here
a halt in scrutiny
a tsk tsk to routine
there is such thing as too much of a good thing
just ask the desert man drowned in the ocean
not too many sunsets have been seen from that angle
there are words in here you may not reach
months that escaped
that last beer in an alcoholic’s six pack
they’re not for you
those secrets are not for you
those months are not for you
so when you hold me next time,
watch for the tide of my breath
soft like my skin on your warmth
picture me small
mouse-sweet and drip-dripping tender
but know and wonder
there are secrets in there
some we will not mention
even to the loudest of roars
tell me again now,