The Lost OnesStruggle to gauge thoughtsdecipher repetitive “I am not”brush to breathe upon suffererswhom should not send lettersblind pilots freelance atmospheric paper routesdeliver silent parades among formidable selves - slave to not looking upplucking diamonds from their brains.
Violent RenewalHatching ideasit's darktoo darkthis dream,shadow mantells meto grinbare alluse thumbshe squeals,less-apt calmride alongconsumed ofstudiouseyes,nostrilslift &transcendbrilliantlySpring flowerssurroundland-basedbodies,lost freedomstingsinsidesceaselessI begin tocryas if beingfilmed,tearstowerselflesscheeks,indrawn seasfall onto lapdrowninghungering earthcaughtby awishto up.wake me
The Sound of Air DyingI go downrun out of human air oxygen empties my chest breaks heavy
I Set My Shadow LooseI set my shadow loosethe dreary warmthleaving the touchto find a new specter.Much later...I find her cryingon a highway overpassshe sees me eat a secretI spit the lies in her face“Go away!” I say.She jumps.The water belowwalks ahead of mecarries herwith pocket holesfor breathing.Somedaysomething will drag usback together.For now, I keepthe great poetsbottled insideof this bodyno longer bound.
The Life of the PartyI have been to lots of parties,barricaded by both men & womenthickened with unwinding alcohol.Quite the life you already know,very secret lives, everyone make-belieflying through their cock-thickening mouths....sole motives to only shirk, beat out with eyes,nearly diamonds, the brightness letting us drown.Out of touch .... yet everyone rubs nigh,wandering vacuums, too near to hearwhat's already been spoken, sucking up glow & alluringpersons, whom are feeble ... too far behind.Tinkering hands and looped musicpollinating dingy brains.Spellbind grief, unbearablyreminds you, the life of the party....can't get there from here.
Beginning Reaches The EndEmpty skystranded bucket of starscolliding distant galaxiesno more seeking bifurcate cosmosno more orderly harmonious destiny.
What a Writer must do.To live beyond the worda writer must trust the wounds,human suffering,a preludeof what is about to come.The lack of words is what a writermay need to endeavor.Precisely, revive a bruised landof skinbreathlessly stretchedto the inner acheof all mankind with wineupon the lips, a writer persists,times when there will be nothing leftto feel, belonging at all risk.
Pen NameYour heart is the vital necessity of my existence.The useless woman I had been before you,precedes understanding.Yes, I did have a name, bearing upon scrutiny.O, but you directly named me Asteriaand so “Ashley Saylor” in a sea of poetsdoes not possibly stand out as passionateand honestly not a luxury compared unfairlyto Asteria Sinclair.
I do this for you, really. A pocket full of decomposing starsdelicate bones in drawers,the sightof blood soakingunder newly pedicuredtoes – exciting. Walking home,bird with no wings. Spare some conspiracy,just don't feel up to flying this one night.
The FeelingLove is the feelingOf being hit in the chest by a tidal wave,A feeling as heavy and crushingAs earth thrown into a grave,And it could paveThe way to happinessOr lead us into Hell.Love is that feelingWhen nothing matters but then it doesIn high definitionAnd in your head is an endless repetitionOf every moment you’ve everSpent together.Love is that feelingWhen someone else is your oxygen;You need them to survive,And every time you touch,Even in your dreams,Is the only time you feel alive.Love is that feelingWhere everything is beautifulBecause your eyes have been stolenBy an angelBut everything is as secureAs it is fragile.Love is that feelingWhen you know it’s all overBut you can’t bring yourself to hateThem because you want them to be happy,Even if their happinessIsn’t you.
i will not tolerate anything but love from youI left lithe lilieson your porch step,petals open, smoothwith the sun's caress.You left me frost flowers.icy stems cracking withthe slightest touch.'But they are beautiful,'you pleaded as I pouredwater onto them, meltingtheir wintry exterior.'They are, but I despisewinter because you alwaysleave me icebound.'
BelovedThe aegis shielding heaven from earth gives way –you float down like a feather, fleshly pluckedfrom the wings of a dove,the sweetest curves and effervescent beautyof your mouth remind me of home.Darling love, the harmony of touch iseverlasting – whenever Istar gaze into your eyes, with wanderlust,and the crust of this gentle mothercan no longer proclaim me.Just as she could not have held you from themoment He breathed life into your halcyon bones,while caught between a ballad and a poem.The warmth of winterwould align their hearts again,two souls united together in twilight –surely nirvana has always meant to definethe quietest moments spent with you where nosyllables need be uttered, no furtive signs.A reunion, my beloved – tosimply feel the grace of your hands laced in mine,as we reach the ultimate enlightenment inthe seraglio of each other's blinks, thumps,and sighs – these are my treasures divine.
Crocodile X reader: You're the only one for me.You were some what bummed that you didn't get the partner you wanted while the game played on. You even stayed behind to see if your secret crush even put in an item to play the game...but alas, he did not play. Whom was your secret crush? Well, that should be quite obvious...it was Crocodile!You didn't know what it was, whether it was his hook, the scar across his face, the cigar or his muscular body...but mmmmm! Damn! He was a nice piece of work! But...you'd never say such thoughts out loud, hell you'd probably walk up to him and say 'I like sand too.." and then walk off hurriedly so that the biggest reaction you would probably get out of the former warlord would be a raised eye brow.But seriously, he could have played and gotten seven minutes alone with any of the pretty ladies on that ship several years ago...but why didn't he? Well.. now was the time to ask him yourself. For there he was; sitting at a café, along with his blade-blade fruit partner. They were reading a newsp
Seven Kisseso 1 oTentative, one reaches out to carefully brush a lock of short hair out of a slim face, revealing a pair of sharp eagle eyes and a jagged scar. His eyes, however, take nothing into account but the slim lips where his thumb now rests. Slowly, moving as if trying not to spook a wild creature, he presses in close, hesitating at the last moment before contact is made, unsure.The moment is broken when she presses in herself, hooking a hand around his neck and kissing him deeply.o 2 oSoft, teasing murmurs and playful quips slip between a pair of lips held just barely apart, the two comfortable in their closeness. It's taken them a long time to reach this point, but now they are here it's as if they had been there forever. He reaches out and flicks teasingly at her nose, falling a little more in love as she scowls and wrinkles it cutely. In response, she calls him a disparaging name - though her bright, affectionate eyes soothe away all sting. With a smile, he closes his
November SkyThis is where we come to get lostWhere the horizon meets with suddenThe ease of orange marmalade and honeyBut passion strikes us in its reflectionCascading desire for the unattainableBurning blistering in our hands as weCatch stars like fallen embers which aroseFrom fires burning to challenge the coldIn nights bewitching the tempest of twilightThough silently soothing like cinnamon in fall
cedar lungsOctober heart; you fell out of a tree-house.Unaware and scared of not making itto the lake before it froze over,you rolled down the lane and ended upon my front lawn under the big oleanderwhere my dad serenaded my mom on theirfirst date almost twenty years ago today.Oh was it destiny?No, I don't think so..I don't believe in all thatpsychic garbage, anyway.Oh but I'd like to thinkwe'd had it coming whenwe subconsciously made wishes onfalling stars when we were kids.You wanted a friend, someonewho wouldn't run away whenyou told him the sad stuff;winter trauma, cars slidingdown Alberta highways.I just wanted a letter froma prison inmate; my brother,some recognition that I wasstill in his memory,locked away for somethinghe did his last year of high school;behind the sunflowers and the pines,behind the dried-up lakes and rockystate lines dividingour traditional homes.Oh where do we go whenthere's no one around to listento our angry murmurings,journal entries
Summer AesthesiaStarfall in the eyesA bright blaze, another oneOne by oneBurning violently, horizon strewnPlayful eyelidsHurryingTo catch them, to entrap themAbove the foundationBuilt by lipsOne by oneSweet menacing at duskShivering above us, inside usBurning cumulusMirrorof your crimson cheeksLookInside your eyes, there I am lostthere I shall build my solaceInterstellar rainbows, mountain springsElements of lifeHeavy with starfallThe two of usA pairAngels in the grassFingers entwinedBlue arcs of electricityPortents of lifeFrom skin to skinFingers sliding, pressing harderIn betweenYour hand, kept in mine, kept in yoursSafeLet’s watchThe starfall, each otherExchangeOne burning galaxyFor another.
I'm Set On FireI'm Set On FireMy passions are set on wildfireShe burns my life in its entireNo fuel, no source does she requireMy love, my life, it is her pyreLove consumed like plains of grassesLife combusts like octane gasesLike swirling flames she burns the massesAnd in her wake the time dost passesAlone in bed I miss her warmingWithout her flames dark forests formingAnd from the darkness monsters stormingWorse fears of loss in my mind wormingPrometheus without his fireElectricity without a wireWithout tinder of tender kissesMy heart, my hearth a kindling misses
Our Loveour love, a pear i eatwhile on my periodbumpy curvessending creasesburned browned spotsthrough smooth surfacesand blood clots