Where are you strength? Immaturity, inconsistency.
Masturbating in the shower.
Smiling, talking, shaking hands.
waste, wasted, wastage.
Daughter. Lost wick burned down.
Killing yourself. Underground.
Tired, tied up.
And bastard. Truly yours.
Cold, feathers on the floor.
The unwinding unfathomable, lost quickness of change.
It all happened so fast.
I wish you came by. You could have been here for me.
And you just said no.
Brilliant, swish, hands and genuine feelings and findings.
Beating down on me, sounds of sadness.
Cutting dresses of while, and red.
Regular gold, dripping down between your legs.
Being. Beeing. A buzz.
Heckle, hackles tackles and tracts of tractless energy and no traction.
Loudness and addresses.
Home, way to go. Lost to drink and rape, life and lids and abuse and misuse.
A lousy bit of love a call.
I’d like to see you.
And i’m going no where.
Lost and loss and diabolical love.
Caring- makes us human.
Tastes and preferences define us.
Intellectualized reality becomes nonsense once removed.
Uncovered, removed, intertextual, self-refferential lostness.
Maybe we could walk, talk swoon and love.
Lost in eachothers arms.
That would be something.
Stomach that. Stomach stomach.
I just want to lay. To rest.
and its funny because she asked me if I was seeing anyone.
As the tears roll down, I say that I saw us kiss.
Yes, yes we are taking things slow.
But its all too fast, and i’m scarring and children and pressures and the whole moment of pressure in one quick short instance of honesty and the scars.
Here her depression weighed down.
I was falling, down down down down.
Past wooden pail.
Pale face in the light, shrinking back.
Swollen crying eyes. Fearfully fading into the blackness.
Drawing breath, a splash of sound.
Fear fear fear.
I am above you.
Dethroned and cut.
Not quite silent droplets of blood drip to the flood.
A door ajar.
Costly moments, sirens and a dragging feeling.
Silent peaceful time alone.
list of broken breath.
Wistful wishes of while celebrants fall bedecked in irony.
Coiling fathomless strands rest at my feet, above my head-
In line with yours. Rope straight. Gravity’s mistake.
The reek of toil crystal pain. Glass shattering in your hands and heart.
Starting to drip down. Your back, your beliefs and efforts.
I scratch, chafe, bleed and feel the hollow.
A loss, lost mimicry of banal speck.
Dire drumming. Crumpling pressure of heart, head, effort and crisis.
Prim’s shapely prison.
Surrounded in a forest, so much life and death.
The natural, beautiful and wholesome decay.
Roundness of stump. Grey green of lichen.
Music sounding, fathoms of want.
Desire woven in webs. Long limbs,
hair of sadness. Growing growing.
Shroud and the unaloud glowering of my other head.
A moose. Hooves in the moss.
Stress and stomping fracture the cold.
Air whisping out in frozen boxes.
Wishes whisper from my lips.
Tongue and teeth click, clasp, whisper and clatter.
All that I stood for. Represented. Tried for, awash.
Eroded in one explosion.
My loss, the meaning of flirtation, connection lust and love.
One hand massage and a touch.
Old kisses and passion.
I will do all these things that I have always wanted to,
in the shower. Our broken promises collide in a way to break out bodies.
Worries washed. Fighting breaths.
Strangling one another.
Embracing waists. Pull pull pull in in in .
The depth of my anger at this mistake.
Faking nothing. Fighting my mind, moving swiftly so as not to acknowledge change, action reaction of meaning. The want and liberty of moment.
The rolling heat. Hands around your throat.
Lifting. Pushing jarringly engorging myself on you.
Sucking you in. Iron bars around you. I will kill you-
Holding you to me. Tighter. You love me. You gasp,
gawking. I could slap you. See you react. I want you to bite me.
We should go to war. I would be stuck with you. Close. Enclosed.
in water, full. Boxed in. No breath. Only room to breathe for one.
Contorted. Surrounded. Between two narrow doorways.
The alley, laid upon one another.
Kidding you, listing strokes.
You moan, if you bite my lips I will shock.
Fight. Smithereens our flesh glows.
Over, nails. A soft kiss. The mind thinks.
I flail, lashing out. Move move.
Rung out. Pull back. Hair twisting.
Kissyou again from behind.
Do something, I exhale.
Into your ear i pour my thoughts. You pout in profile.
I cut into your ribs and stomach with my clenching fingers.
Supporting your left breast.
You are so small. This scale, this perfect woman.
Our games, justification. Posturing.
Love meets its match, end to end.
Ends meet. Back to a beginning of lust.
Crayons of times gone, pictures of health and want.
Our shallow love. Deeply personal loss, exchange and hope.
We’re going nowhere. This continuous failing.
My dissillusion. Delusion. Dissruption, determination failed.
Pristine history uncovered and I wonder.
Unwound but not quite fully.
Why did this end.
And how has this happened now; again after so long.
So long so long. Swelling in and out.
Rapid anger. Fury almost, your shoulders meet.
You are mine.
And my mind whirls as you swivel.
Back to the couch, the run softly holding us, the fire place open from when I crept behind you and gently held you. My first mistake.
Looking into your eyes. Your dignity and respect and my love for you.
I smile. Holding your genuinely tiny, blushing and pristine curves in my arms.
I look the the very shape of love.
Tasting happiness between each of my teeth.
Reflexively brushing your hair, running my hand down your jaw.
you bit my thumb and we start up.
How do we do this and why.
My barriers down. Honest, free from suppression and vile thoughts of desire lost. You are with me. Drawing me from the well.
Your hair is behind you, parted behind your ears.
I and brought back from the rope.
Buckets of my pour. Overflowing, no brim, movement.
Just waves. Pulsing, rising. rippling.
Warm jubilant sounds.
Murmuring sorrow, and energy that has no feeling but to survive and continue this dance. again again.
Resting side my side. You shiver in orgasm.
I laugh gently, curves and cream.
Holding you tightly.
I am drawn back from the well, into your world.
My failing. Again.