Your Frayed, Denim Daisies

Because i'm awake and
Because i'm alone now.

Because of the way
your denim snags
sway astride your form

relaxed now they seem
exausted from some onslought
razor-soft and sparkling-plush
they rest now. Long and aged.
Teased and pulled. Against you.
Sometimes damp against you.
Sticky and curled.
Clawed, pulled and frayed.

Loved.

Draping you in violent whimsy.
Static dance on electric flesh
Impotent spikes blending flesh to blue.
Form to Function.
Lazy dandelion gaurds.

To pluck just one from it's winding grave.
Kill it on its spiraled branch
To tear the white into blue
Blue into flesh.
Your barbed- wire halo
Tracing you up up up.
Dissolving your azure haze.

Coaxing the sky to peal itself from the heavens.
and tickle the sun
tracing that soft part of the moon
through this abbrasive and peeling blue
taking Venus and then Mars
gently between my teeth
coaxing them.

Conspiring then.

I whisper in soft circles
Until they sing that throaty moan.
The heavens quit breathing.
The sky condemned.
Celestial suicide
And welcoming retracts
Recoiling
Unveiling
The poison mists
just above hell
hang loose now

The Devil leers at a Swollen God
And God leers right back.

All the Demons I can muster
Slick and sweet and smooth
cling to my lips and take hold
of my tongue
As it moves toward your blushing infinty

Sliding between the horizon
and just behind the sea.
The softest piece of my perversion
slips between your desire and humility
Between your whore and Virgin
Between child and your rapist

Between what you are and
what you think you ought to be

That space that lasts for a second.
Before you lose yourself to eternity
Or wish you could have let go
entirely.

But I have a passport for heaven and hell
I will be the reason for secrets you'll tell.
I am your serpent.
No tricks.
I'm a key.

I have no sacred knowledge of the apple I bear.
That is all within you.
Eve found it there.

I am your instrument,
though it seems that I play

Your strings are your sighs
heavy breaths
closing eyes
rolling eyes
rocking heads
finger nails leave bloody trails
spasms born of hips
The sticky sweet
Your legs that wrap
Your sharp, staccato coos
Our names upon your lips if we are lucky
A shiver
A curse
A cry

Something unexpected entirely.
Something Godlike.
Something that makes a man matter.
Something that won't simply wash away in the shower.

That I could be that denim snag.
An open wound bloodless
That I could be that frozen whorl
Bound to slowly travel the lengths of you
Bound to ever reveal more of you
With each piece of me you tear away.

09 Aug 2007 -6th Rewrite