black tuesday dawning... (early draft, est. metre)

black tuesday blooms
In ecstasies womb.

snakes all black and ivy
between breaths
so warm and winding.

black Tuesday dawns
a slow musky dusk

licks you fat and happy;
rolling brothy,
silent,
dirty

As Sabbath drools,
on fevered brow...

We Obsidian Tragedy

the last of you stains the air.
smeared careless and colorless.
left withered and heaving.
flavored gifts of you on the floor.

the fairytale failing,
red and lacqured and entombed.
a lifeless ornament of our abandoned holiday,
where wounds were celebrated with a kiss.


oiled and perfumed of dying dreams,
dangling stiff and bitter from
places we will never go and,
stuffed songless into the tiniest grave.


we obsidian tragedy,
hardened and smoothed by remorse.
sick with error,
slick as wonder.

to concieve
a misconception.
produce a mistake.
to misunderstand and become,
undone, miscarried.

to misdirect and mislead.

to spin bright lies with,
your real blood,
your beautiful flesh,
from the rest of our lives.

mistakes live as kings here,
as our giants and heroes.

missing you now as always,
or mistaking you still for always,
maybe what was always missing,
was never you at all.

just me now as always,
always missing something,
for a while it will be you,
my giant, my hero and king.

Sorrow's last breath...

hard to breathe- sad.
hard to sleep- sad.

the kind that makes your muscles heavy from the inside-out.
the kind that makes you mutter ’so what’ to yourself.

the kind you know will pass eventually.
a sorrow leaking from those recent cracks
deep inside you.

trickling through you and pooling in your soft recesses.

taking with it those memories that make burn
and softening the edges of your weary bones.

a sorrow winding through you,
pulling you along with it
and sometimes succeeding.

the kind you know will pass eventually.
you know it will.

it has to.
there is no more room left for it inside you.

How to Destroy Angels

Respect him as you would a man.
Don't avert your eyes or,
From them let tears of joy.
Hold and only smile slightly,
Bring doubt to his glory.

Clip his bright wings then,
With the earthiest stare.
Do not give yourself freely,
Teach him the trade of your favor.

Do not accept his love,
Without questioning his worth.
Ask him how you can live,
On his love alone.
Ask him for proof.

Slip then his halo down,
Passed furrowed and golden brow.
Squeeze until you feel,
His breathy chorus of sighs,
Tighten around your finger.

His wings he has traded,
For your salvation, hurry-
Before they wither so,
Polish his feathers gently.

Now look before you.
Gaze upon your Angel.
Who believes himself to be,
Now simply a Man.

How to Kill a Man?

Remind him simply,
Of when he was beautiful.

(1/24/2008 3rd Draft)

"...Seeking a Softer Nothing. w4m, 28. Seattle, downtown"

Snatch me from sleepless tumble.
Shake and distract me.
Notice me.
Slaughter me or save me.

Catch the dead in me,
All the real left in me.
Touch but don't feel.
Taste but don't swallow.
Smell me and think of dust.

Push inside me.
Crush me with that wild indifference,
That only men produce.
That only a man could mistake for love.

Forget me or use me.

Make me again.
Make me something else.
Some other girl in,
Some other story.

Whisper her name.
Dress me in her forgotten things.
Cut the parts of me away,
Lose me somewhere.

Orphan me and seduce me.

Spare only your laziest lies.
Undress me without a kiss.
Caress me dry and saltless,
Kindless and cold.

Trespass upon this strange inheritance.
Where warheads bloomed one day,
Upon a frightened child.
My tits and ass.
My open mouth, silenced.

My cunt bared to you,
Bare for you.
My object d'art.
My Plan A and B.
I didn't make them.
They are making me.

They are the least of me.
They are the worst of me.
They are all you see,
Smell and taste of me.

Blame me.

You grope, you claw,
Passed clothes you won't see.
You pull and grasp,
At each salmon-flecked flash.
You lick, spit and bite at
My softest of surpluss.

Hurt me carelessly,
And mistake my swelling breathes,
For adoration or desire.
Hurt me faster and harder for it.

Listen but hear only that rush,
Of enraged blood pumping.
Smother me in sloppy arousal.
Suck the salt from my skin,
And coax from me perfumed approval.

My incense of rape and consent,
Smell the same.
My betrayal and deceit.
My shame.
Make me yield now.
Make me helpless.

Once again blameless.

Make me cry if you can.
Just make me something.

Turn on baby.
Soul-fuck me.
My perfect machine.
Dumb fucking machine.

You have only one reason.

To Lend me some purpose.
Convince me at least.
Tell me more lies.
Spill and splash and,
Spit and Grind then.

Make me wet with them.

Turn on baby.
Soul-fuck me.
Displace me.
Replace me.
Bare me out on the backs of my tears.

Fill me with a softer nothing.

Turn on now, baby.
Soul-Fucker!
My Perfect fuck machine.
Lost before me and,
Lost again inside me.

We are a tangled disenchantment,
Sightless and choiceless in it.
Blinded and pumping through it.
Assaulting deeply and,
Completely,

Replacing me.

Renew my lingering sorrows.
Remind me I'm lonely.
Teach me that prayer about Angels,
Just touch me please.

Tell me that last little lie.
Waste one more breath on me.
Waste yourself upon me..
On my tits and ass.
Make me swallow your pride.

Fill me with your softer nothing.

Waste yourself away and
Sleep between chemical-bursts.
Dream the things of men;
Of things that make you,
Meaningless now.

Reasonless except for me.

So Turn on again, baby.
And tell me I'm pretty.

My perfect fuck-machine.
My foolproof distraction.
My relentless mistake.
My anesthesia and,
My sweetest hate.
My greatest excuse,
Let me fail forever.

Just call me please.

11th Rewrite

- children

They are running now...outside fast...against inside walls...

Hopped up on homemade brownies laced with boneless marshallows and seedless chocolate chips; the white and brown kinds respectively.

They toss and kick and tease the world through our narrow hallways. Taking turns they wade through the nearest galaxy barefoot with painted and chilled toes.

A present never considered they grind into historic paths of beige shag never to be remembered and rewritten eternally. Laughter shatters to giggles and caught in butter flavored reflections like bored laser beams bouncing through crazed clutter.

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

Drunken Instant Message exchange with an X...

you are so so beautiful.

it makes me hurt inside seeing you there...

wondering...

makes me wonder.

and then the hurt because I have nowhere to put the wondering.

makes me wonder all the 'what-ifs'.

seeing you there.

like that.

you like that-

just you

that you-

despite you.

despite what you say or think.

that breath-taking.

that thing that makes me cry.

right now.

crying because I saw you again.



fuck.



mis-spelling because i can't read while crying with my right eye closed....

beautiful bitch.

always walking away from me as beautiful as that.

In your white sneakers.

your dirty-less white


fucking


sneakers.


my god.

i'm appalled at my spelling.

please read it in the way you know i meant it.

and never share my ignorance.

with

anyone.



please.

The Third I Love You...

getting home
fatigued
late

another night of worry replacing sleep
visible churn on the floor
near the bathroom
from a nervous stomach

evidence that I heard what you said
evidence that I can feel things
deeply
all the way down in my gut

I cant tell you how it feels

but you can see it there
on the brown and dirty carpet

the most honest vow of love
beneath your feet
stinking

and in a day its gone
or rather invisible
beneath our feet
on the brown, dirty carpet.

24 Apr 2006

The Second I Love You...

"I finally love you." I said that night. "Or rather, I can finally say the words without panicking. I don't want to be with anyone else."

The rhythm of our bodies paused for a measure or two but continued in our breaths. I could see only her hair and the soft, moist slope of her neck disappearing into her curls. I felt her smiling.

My chest slid across hers as she tried to pull me even closer. She responded as I had over a year ago; silently and with her whole being. I however, knew that she loved me so her quiet response did not hurt as mine had that morning so long ago. My body had failed where hers now beautifully and sensually succeeded.

Slowly I answered her in kind. Our breaths synchronized; conducting our dance and we once again fell in time.

Slowly, she payed respect to the words spoken from my lips with the wet reciprocation of her flesh.

I inhaled her again. I had forgotten what love smelled like when not soured by fear. It smelled alive and strong, confident and graceful. It smelled like her. It always had.

I had rejected the scent - her scent - that morning, just as a child rejects a foriegn food. Survival. I was surviving. I couldn't survive another serving of that bitter dish and instead picked around the edges of the dish, touching a small forkfull to the tip of my tongue, setting it back down and almost feeding it to the dogs beneath the table.

But here I was now, kicking the dogs away and swallowing again for the first time, half expecting to choke, half expecting to be poisoned slowly over many years.

It was as salty and smooth as her shoulders which I kissed again. Silently.

And then the long after-embrace I have dreamed of this year. To feel your future embrace you tightly as the sticky-wet cools between you and glues you together. As the thunder subsides to gentle drumming; light as the last spring rain pools upon your window sill. Your future feeling safe because you finally admit your desire for it and your trust in it.

That's all your future needs.

And then the soft sleep of two lovers content because they know that they will awake still entwined. Know that the first sound to greet them when they wake will be same sound they now drift away upon.

The breath of your future gently rolling down your naked soul.

I remember her last waking breath as it slipped from between her lips, unfolded on her neck, and tumbled across her shoulder and onto mine. It paused there for a moment to meet my last breath. Then embracing so that I could not tell one from another they spiralled downwards to disappear beneath the covers. It was the last time our breaths would mingle so together.

When I awoke I was alone and chilled. The blanket and my lover with it, had gone. The sound of music tickled the crack beneath her closed bedroom door. In mild disappointment of being robbed of her I stirred, curling my knees to my chest to retain some of my own heat.

"I finally love you." I exhaled so the words born away on the back of my first waking breath . So that I could see what the words looked like. So I could feel thier tiny footsteps on my chest. But instead they dissipated quickly and vanished without a sound.

The door swung open and the music leapt into the room, pushing out the sound of my heartbeat and warming me. My lover stood there, dressed and staring at me. When I saw her face my heart jumped and it's beat fought back against the invading music.

The puddle on the window sill stirred from the center; sending a few lonely spirals outwards to disappear upon it's edge.

She stood there, staring at me, fidgeting with a curl on her neck. Her eyes were too wide to have just awoken from the same sleep I had. There was worry behind them pacing back and forth.

"Do you still love me?" She asked in that childlike way she does when she is speaking about her heart.

"Yes I still do love you."

"How much do you love me?"

"As much as you will let me."

She looked down and shuffled her feet, kicking at some imaginary dog.

Then, glancing up from beneath her tangled ringlets she asked; "Does your love forgive?"

Something darted behind her eyes and lay still; hiding somewhere in her darkness.

"It can only forgive as deeply as it can give."

"How deep is that?"

"I don't know, but I suppose you are about to throw a stone and find out."

"I guess I am."

The pool outside the window began ebbing - on its own as if agitated by invisible rain drops. Distracted or distracting myself I imagined my quickening heart beat was causing it.

I took a deep breath, trying to draw back inside the one which had mingled with hers only an hour ago.

I sat up and reached for my shirt to cover my nakedness. A small piece of fabric; made in china. I felt silly for my sudden shyness, but a little safer.

She moved across the room, now averting her eyes from me and sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"I have something I need to tell you." she paused. "It's something I haven't told anyone."

My heartbeat quit teasing the rain puddle outside and glanced up at me. Relief? Was this just a silly post-amorous confession? Would it all end in a giggle and a hug? A shy smile and a kiss from beneath those curls?

"Well...does it have to do with me?"

"Kinda."

"Okay...well you have my attention."

"I don't know if I can tell you. I don't know if I should tell you."

"Why don't you tell one of your girlfriends first and perhaps she can counsel you. I'm more gaurded with my empathy these days."

"I can't tell my friends."

"But you can tell me?"

"I don't know if I can, but I think I should now that you love me."

"Okay. Cast the stone."

tbc...

- Letter, March 24th, 2006

The First I love You...

You said..."I love you". And the most I could do was pull your body
tight against me and say it back with the warmth from my body and the caress of my fingers. My tongue tried to find an answer but still found the pursed phonetic of love too bitter to reply. My body instead spoke the sweet reply which my heart insisted.

Saying from the heart lives still in a hollow redoubt of insincerity. Doing from the heart finds worthy purchase upon fingertips and silent lips. A harried word burns the brittle, gasping tinder in a brilliant but momentary flash. Gentleness rolls upon the windswept grasses and reaches the soft peaks of the highest planes at a steady, willfull pace.

Is the peak jealous of it's outer most edges which first feel the soft breath of change? Or does it savor the first tickling glances of desire, knowing it will soon be enveloped entirely?

This is the dance. This is life, sex and death in folgers crystal. These tiny steps we take are only the first but they pave the way for our fate. They need to be soft, gentle and patient and most of all enjoyed. What comes will come but you and I are not in a place to predict. You and I cannot know the outcome nor can we hurry it. If we do, as both of us want to sp badly -- we will miss the most important and intimate times.

I will miss your blush when you become too comfortable with me to tint vermillion. I will miss the way your head tilts downward despite your eyes fighting to lift you, gazing submissively into mine.

I want to dance with you. I don't want to fuck you. I haven't fucked you and I can't imagine what it must be like to fuck you. Those boys. Lying on you. Being inside you yet not understanding where they are. Fucking ignorant of what kind of creature holds them, trusts them, uses them. Wandering off the next day believing they accomplished something but never being able to explain exactly what. Missing it. Missing you.

I'm not missing you.

I still feel every where you have touched me. Every spot your lips have sought, a slow burn still lingers. A stamp from the night before bursting with memories it cannot possibly contain. Proud knowing that it came from your will and your desire.

My neck. My face. My lips. My tongue. My cheak. My chest. My fingers. My stomach. My legs.

My cock.

They beg me for you again. They beg your touch, yes. But they desire the will behind your touch. Your deliberate desire that moves your body across mine searching for a way inside.

I am in awe of you. I am gutted before you.

You have already found a way in.


- Letter, February 26, 2005