For a kiss in chaos, and how someone…. With a kiss…. Who is in love with you…. Someone, out there….
Someone, who really loves you…. With a kiss….
Can…. Calm life down…. A little.
Too be held is to die inside a vain that sucks life into a hellscape of life, without a knowledge of death breathing into hell to see the end of life.
To be found, that is why we seek ourselves at the end of the tunnel of hope.
To be discovered, that is why we seek ourselves at the end of the tunnel of fears
To be never found, we seek ourselves in a hell of confusion
And massive uncertainty to the future.
A fist full of spikes
Control placed on the avalanche of sorrow
Pouring over the tunnel of hope
Lost to be lost, never wanting to know what it was like to be found
To be given air…. To be given death…. To be given a breath
Wasted energy, to die trying to never see a death
Given well, given poorly without a hollow shell: we have nothing to fill
Where to go, where to go,
I can’t see where to pick my legs up and put them down
Where to go, where to go,
I can’t see where to put my own carcass down
Rest in a cave
The spring water puts me out
Crown of poison, king dies on throne with a spiked club buried in his head
Thoughts overwhelming concentration, thoughts overwhelming penetration
To his body, sexually deprived of lust
Lust in a flower on display of his corpse, reside in a hell of agony, without sex or a kiss
No kiss of thorns, lipstick shells are left on his sexual table of health
No kiss of thought, thoughts dead inside a kiss of a shell, used and sped up past a point of love
No love, the king is just a nothing of a hollow shell
The crown lies at his knees, wobbling and weak like a failing king in poor health
Dead in a Lover’s Bed
Pressed into a circle of trust, without the hands to support lust
Sex, wild and carnivorous, eating at the appetites that one lover can’t reciprocate
Nonsense, there is no sex drive to feel
A feeling of lifelessness, pushed into the ground’s water, an attempt, foolish, to get something like life back.
A feeling so deep, an island so gray and black, sand can’t splash over the waves if the waves can’t splash naturally over the sand’s black gray
The feeling of sex disappeared with what the waves laughed at when splashing
A man and a woman, dead in a lover’s bed
The rabbit of cloth and black
Hides itself from a failing sun, that flows sky into earth
No sun to really see, a black cloak is the greatest defense
Against a soul that knows no light to speak of
A black coat, the greatest defense
When the rabbit has sex with itself and dies in it’s disguise
Crying to see the sun once more
A feel, the lovely glow of life
A faltering heart, put dense in a hand of one who knows how to use it well
Control, yes, control
Peace, yes, no peace
The heart is dripping something that is not blood out of the hand
It looks unusual, too strange to be human
An animal? No. Too scary to be natural.
A scary drip, the liquid to tears used to cry the heart into the hand, holding it too dense to ever try to let it go free
Crawl off like a grasshopper and find a room to lock itself in to feel fear, the life it had visions of, once again.
A grasshopper dripping something scary, not human, not animal.
A liquid of fear
The crying tears of holding trust in something that had none
So Lovely Pedestal
Blade of remembrance
Slicing effort to put us on a pedestal, above everyone we can look down on
The pedestal is Greek and solid
Underneath, the crumbling of our true selves
Dying where the pedestal is lying to be grabbed and taken away from us
A dying, solid and knowing it will end
When those below tear us off this pedestal
But with a so lovely hand, a young woman stays on the pedestal.
She can reach out and change the way life flows.
Life throne, in a sky
Looking out at the clouds
The life throne smiles at the mirror
What lets it see where the day passes
Blood from a hill
Is too much
To wash away neglect
Hanging off a hill, neglect is a stone
The body empties
The body empties
Where do I empty with it
The mountain is too high to make sense of
Trapped door, no escape
The feeling of being locked inside a mind of hate
Blackout of pain
A miserable life
Can’t be cured
Never felt the body of a woman
Never felt the life, of love
Never had a life
Dead and deceased
Water has run out and is dripping,
A boy so hates life
The cow never knew how to birth itself into heaven
It only fell down, and down again
Ever time it tried to pick itself up, pick itself up
Time and time again
Time and time the cow failed to birth its child
The milk and cheese inside its intestines were a bad lactose for it’s life
Dying from the rotten cheese and spoiled milk, it sees itself die more slowly than it wished
Why did it never see the sun
The cow cries on its way to death
The grasshopper chirps and chirps in the night, but death was all morning brought to it
Death was a chore to hold it together, death was a chore to bore it from itself, when it failed to take off into the night
So, so poor grasshopper
Dead at its own morning of arrival, it could have seen sunlight
But this night was its only home
The black flow was a dime, shining and free
To float through the air without a consequence of defeat.
The air worked in its favour, and let it fly so freely
The air worked to hold it still, and let it breathe so heavily
But no heavy breath could keep its life in
The only thing dying on the inside was its love for its world
A sad tear, a single one that dripped out too fast to see where the star it created landed
A fast land, pushing the earth down below its feet
Where the tear dripped, the air know it had no place to go, anymore
So it simply stopped in the air, and died there
In the wind it had always so loved
The intestines twisted around the body of the man, acrobatic and alive in feeling, he feels himself become so withdrawn on the inside of his body, hiding himself from his love
The feeling of helplessness, helplessness to death, as his intestines strangle him with his disguise
Putting on a show was death, and he doesn’t want to cry anymore about his failure of life
The sex of his intestines penetrates him
And he births a life that was much like his own, to live out his son’s day in fear of nothing to life
Sex was a medicine he used to keep himself from feeling sick: Now that his woman is gone, he has no choice put to perform a vasectomy on himself to keep his penis from being used, a lot
But his penis is a hanging mass of bone
Too erect to make any sense of, the direction it sticks is a mystery of life
Too erect to put down, the direction it sticks is too confusing to ever be sure about
So, the man simply cuts it off
He doesn’t want to have to have the life-like feeling
Of his erection
Open like a wound, the growling lion feels itself succumb to poison gas
A gazelle was inhaling, seconds before the lion took a hungry bit into it
Poison gas, natural made by the war of nature
Poison gas, natural made by the earth of nature, shown to be spelled as something that was not natural, when earth was cracked open and not put in its proper place
The gazelle defensive mechanism was a hell on earth for the lion; the male lion was choking on the smoke and poison, inhales in death and exhaling the life of sex and love,
Lost to a dead female lion which had tried to eat the male after mating, half black widow spider half safari, African female lioness.
Half betrayal, half instinct, the web she spun choked her to death as the male lion watched her in laughter.
The laughter of one who knew how to take the lioness out, but wanted to see her kill herself by her instinct.
A sorrow, he gave to her, a gift of death, of sorts.
As the gazelle’s poison takes route through his spine, he hunches over and feel himself go to sleep
While this male lion smiles within at this wonderful feeling he had never felt, in life.
Mating loss, a lost mate to run free with millions of affairs and no sexually transmitted diseases
Mating gain, a gain to run free with a lost mate to put her on the right track to life of love, but the love is too confusing to her to understand why love would mean anything to her life.
Instead the other option is simply accounting for all her affairs, and making sure she is never to blame for getting herself pregnant a few million times
All the children in her stomach have to go
She slices her tummy off
The children of no love, run rampant, start crying at their new life
Mommy smiles at her army
A twisted neck, spinal stretch, from down to heaven to see where a young woman gets her cubs from
In her home of a place of gold and fur, she sits on her throne-loved couch and takes sips of her favourite sparkling wine
Soon too drunk to act properly, she wobbles to her living room, near her favourite couch of gold and fur
To do a dance before she dies
A dance that spreads to nowhere, the dance is a place of death, that she smiles ta as she embraces with her soft and gold hands, letting in air through them as she dies with a smile for her warm fireplace,
Keeping her spirit warm as she passes on
But what a truly waste of a lovely young woman’s life
Her life was so precious, her body so sexually virile
Her smile was a sun, and now the sun has passed away.
The winds of a cool world, so free without a self-doubt that they would fail at talking to their crush
The crush, they felt love hard for, a hard love that felt them pour themselves into a bottle of love
To open, but they over crushed it when they never showed their true colours to her
If only they would have been brave enough to show their true selves to her, she would have kissed them for her love, to them, for their crush, she saw in their love, for her.
Lovely, free, a spring of fate, as she kissed them and brought hem to bed with her, fun and sleep
So wholesome but innocent
She was pure and natural
She was unsullied and full of love for whoever confessed was her crush, so much water to pour into their bodies to make them feel alive
An erection, strong so she knows she is doing the best job she can
Her love making free and wild, she can’t help but smile widely at how much fun she is really having
Her lover, her partner, serious, as she laughs at them, wondering why they won’t join in the fun with her.
Staring into her crush’s eyes, she sees his erection through his eyes
As they, the other males who all have a loving crush on that young lady
Crowd her and kiss her
All over her extremely lush body, of girly love.
A girl, placed upon a shelf for possession for her boyfriend
He wants nothing more than to call her “his own”
If she wants to leave him, he’ll block the door
If she wants to kiss him, he’ll open up his cheek for her
Either way, he gets what he wants, while his girlfriend is imprisoned on her bookshelf.
Too high to get down from, it can be a real drag
To have to drag her up there again, after her boyfriend is done using her in his and her bedroom at night
The dusty book of her, used and used so many times, rarely closed by him, her boyfriend, leaving her open
As he wounds the inside middle of her legs
Realizing she was crying sadly with the other dusty books on the bookshelf, she wants to get out of her prison of love.
He seemed like a kind gentleman, when she had first met him, but now he
Is a ugly ogre, green and with nasty warts to her eyes
She doesn’t, she never wanted to give her body to an ogre; it felt horrible, knowing his green, warty penis was going inside and out of her
Infested with warts inside herself, she feels herself change into a demon she never wanted to be.
Her so colourful youth dead, I think it was time she realized
The girlfriend understood
She never should have been on an old, dusty bookshelf
The air is so slow, it grows without a lung to understand how her own body works
Help! Help! I’m air but my breath is purple! This is not earth!
I don’t know what I am, and no one can breathe me! I feel I’m
Dying without knowing why!
Can…. Someone please help the air life loves to breathe?
No one can help you, air.
Die. Nobody likes you. I’m going to get rid of you.
I have a knife, but there’s no blade on it. How do I stab something I can’t see?
How do I get rid of air that swallows up my lungs and controls me? I need help!
Oh, so you have a lung? I have no lung, and I don’t understand how my own body works. Can you help me understand?
I think I feel sympathetic to you, but I have no idea where your body is
Really? But you wanted to kill me.
Well, you know, you’re in my body.
I know I never gave him much, but he always videotaped me doing things I never wanted to show him.
I know I never asked him for much, but I never wanted to see him cry when he couldn’t live out his many fantasies with me.
So sorry. I just wasn’t comfortable with everything you wanted from me, you know?
Maybe…. You should have found someone else. I don’t know how much I can help you. You might be on your own.
I’ll make sure whoever it is, that they can fulfill your wild fantasies well.
Better than I ever could, when I was your lover, dear
I’m so sorry about that.
The whole size, too big to fit inside me.
Pull it out.
I’m telling you, pull it out.
Pull it out!
This is punishment for you.
Remember when you cheated on me?
This is what I get? So cruel! You’re so cruel!
But you never minded that cruelty. In fact, you fed off it, yourself.
I…. I did, I must confess. But please, don’t force yourself inside me.
Too late. I’ve made up my mind. Enjoy, while I’m awake.
No! I refuse! I feel so much pain!
Wait…. It that a bad thing?
A bad thing? Do you suddenly want me to force your hole to be in pain?
I…. don’t know.
I’ve always liked it, when you hurt me.
Hurt with a chainsaw, a severed head that is still thinking about how to fall off-into a netherworld of death
It gives up on ideas at the last minute-it just stops thinking and shrugs itself off, putting blame on what it guesses was its death.
But the chainsaw was inactive, and turned off.
Too much thinking was the cause of why the head could decided how to escape into the netherworld.
Maybe it should have just
Stopped thinking about life.
The twirl of hair
The smell of perfume; High grade, high quality with a fragrance somehow so sexual.
A flick of the neck
The movement of lust; Something to relish when her man is below her, being held down under
His sensual experience; His vision of “beauty”
A gaping mouth, hanging open as he looks at her.
In a rebellious spirit she had kept hidden from this man
She smiles to him
Before she takes off her body
And lets him feel the effects he had been giving her
Control of a gem, wrestled and torn, torn
Torn and torn some more, from a hand that grabbed a shirt to rip it off
The gem underneath, a zodiac sign appropriate to the lady, who holds her breast in her hand
Squeezing so tightly.
The breast is plump in her own hands, and she gives a cry of pleasure
As she feels herself faint from the sensations
The richness of her gems causes her to fall, in wealth
Rich and rich.
Strong. Weaker. Stronger.
Weak, weak, weak.
Nothing to grab the rock face
Fall down. Down.
Down. Down. Down. Down.
Open bedroom door, open bedroom love
Hearts float out, pink as can be, kisses making hearts blow up in pink balloons
Pink balloons that float to a surface of love, an aquarium that is full of pink water
Fish have sex and have sex, loving and loving
…. Dying and dying as they drown on unfamiliar water.
But they care only about loving.
With the bedroom door open, the funny bouncing noises
To fish who are doing the same, echoes of sex in this ocean of pink waves.
Closed bedroom door, the fish stop, and the water is blue once again.
Inside, the bouncing has turned to a bed collapsing.
Screams as someone falls into the middle wood of the bed, on both woods she lands
One becomes limp, the other is painful to hit her head on
Sex turns to concern.
The wood monster inside
Continues to get himself going
And some wood is rebuilt at her expense of care, sadly
Oh, did you want to let me see you naked?
No, no, all I wanted was for you to pull down my pants.
But then I’ll see you naked.
No, you won’t. You’re funny.
Take it all off. Might as well.
No. Only see me with my pants down.
How many pants do you have?
Let’s wait here a few years. Ya?
Legs facing backwards, the only one twisted back in an uncomfortable position is the one….
Whose head is facing where her legs should be.
Twisted into looking as a pretzel without exaggeration, she looks rather comfortable, like this is the way she always dreamed of sitting
Reliving stress on her back, the arch of her spine is straight
As her “masseur” massages it’s length, all the way down to her vagina and crotch.
Legs facing up
A ceiling fan comes crashing down
Her crotch is massaged.
Hold on to a brain full of stings in it
A brain full of stings is as natural as bees and wasps defending themselves from nature.
A brain is a circuit
Running with a circuit
Running with a circuit, with a circuit, with a circuit
Where the circuits collide, that’s were the stings of wasps happen.
Teeth marks buried in between folds of skin
Teeth marks buried in between legs of sin…. Through pure, never throwing away their dignity.
One spread a little wider than the other, faced outwards and curved with a lovely shape
The other leg is much older, and sagging. The gray skin looks like it’s too old to rot off
It needs to be cut off and left on a hillside
But the other leg…. The other leg is just so awe-inspiring young and gorgeous
He’ll do anything in his life for it, he just wants to feel her shape.
Her shape, in his hands, now that he has her
He has no idea with to do with her
He starts by feeling her hips, but she dislikes the sensation he gives to her through her skin
And she tells him she dislikes anything sexual, so “please stop”.
Confused by what to even do, he decides that her
Back and neck would be the best bets, massaging them with his hands until she feels her tension realize
A close of eyes and the sound of orgasm. Where there is none.
He smiles at his job well done.
“Is that too sexual for you?”
“No, that’s perfect.”
The young woman has her hair pulled behind her,
A mermaid in an ocean of non-stop waves
As the man pulls her out of the ocean, and feels the sparkles fly off her.
The sparkles that pull him closer, as the young woman kisses him close.
He feels her hot breath, and her hot breath breathes inside his mouth, letting him give a feel for her life.
Under a pond she faces, another young woman is lifted from the sparkles, and feels fireworks fly off her body, as she seeks to find her freer, the man who is being kissed.
Wrapping sparkles around him, she pushes him into her lips as well, as he receives kisses form both, his lips wet with love.
The pond bounces below him, sending sparkles up in the air, to the man and the two young women’s eyes.
The king of the world, sits on his throne with his queen, a woman he once picked to rule along side him.
She is bright and promising, and he has much hope for her.
But a premature death takes her away from him, and the king has no choice but to cry
On his throne, as his tears pour out at his loss, his loss he was so powerless to stop.
Powerless, as a king, the ultimate humiliation.
He would rather have her be the king, if it meant anything to him.
Letting him arms fall around his dead queen,
He takes his king’s crown off
And lays it in on her head
Before allowing himself to die in her arms.
A point of death, the queen did not see. It seemed pointless to her, to just die so easily.
She takes her queen’s crown off, and places it on her dead king’s head
Pleased and smiling he seems to be sharing what she just shared with him,
She finally dies back to sleep.
The cherry tree, alive and well in this summer
One summer, bright, soft, warm, comforting
A place that was perfect to escape, too perfect
An escape no one, he or she, ever came out of.
A valley, shined with sun, with figures dancing in the day.
At night, covered in mist and hay, dumped from a nearby truck that put a farm down
Waking up, they still find themselves son the hill,
Torn between wanting to get out of the night’s hay
Or lie there, forever to think about life, together in this summer of escape.
Crawling slowly along her body, he takes his tongue to her abdomen, her touch of skin soft and feeling like he could easily make yogurt out of her body’s flesh.
The lick that sends shivers to her, making her realize why she loved to be in this bed, in the first place
A comforting taste, a taste that begs to be savoured and polished with his tongue
Her polished nails that beg to be tucked into place behind her waist
When he feels her hips outstretch and widen, her tummy outstretched backwards and curving her back for him to see. His tongue, a weapon, lethal to the touch of her waist
Making her moan with pleasure, agony of not knowing if her would give her more, or not
But generous he is.
Generous his tongue and hands are, as he uses them to send her waist into a cyclone of repeated orgasms.
Chewing on her hip, the flesh is red and soft
The massage that begins with a fist in a ball, punching a stomach for being disobedient to the nonsense she thought she was hearing from him.
He knew nothing for what he did wrong, only that she was a villain girl to him, and he needed to be hero and save the day.
But helpless against this evil girl he had become involved with, he figures he should be a villain, and just string her up from the ceiling, disturbing but there is no other way to get her to stop destroying her stomach with her fist of feminine force.
Calmly. His emotions do not falter, but flail in anticipation of having to become angrier. Deep, deep down is a voice that tells him he will have to get angrier.
She is crying tears of some emotion he does not understand, and keeps punching the red fleshing mess of skin.
Breaking before him, something like a single organ falls out
He can’t be bothered to know what he lost
He is so, so angry
That she won’t show her love for him
So he decides
Anger is the best course of action to elevate his love to a level where she can see it
Fueling burning rage, he grabs her hair and yanks her to the floor, her head hitting against a tile, which cools her temperament down a little,
A little loss of consciousness.
A conscious love, he feels for how he just hurt her so bad.
But he does it again, and she becomes a little cooler.
Soon, bleeding wide open, he is sure she isn’t punching his loveless tummy anymore.
“Do you love me?”
He punches her stomach, but then he starts to sob.
His lover looks so weak, to him.
Faces, covered with burlap sacks
Which one can be picked
Which is the right one
For this person?
All the burlap sacks are an indecisive black, not knowing what colour they ever wanted to be when they grew up.
Maybe they grew up too fast, they never had a life to pick, parents that picked a life for them.
But they don’t complain. It’s nice being ordinary and un-special. Black is black. They all look the same, and the burlap sacks all feel the same on each person’s head.
Except for the one, strangely with a spiked inside, which is digging into the woman’s skull who wears her restraints.
I should save her, before she dies.
The searcher of the burlap sacks, thinks.
I could be a hero, save a life.
He takes her burlap sack off and lets her see him.
Her face is so untouched by pain! He is amazed!
Such “beauty”, this woman has.
Young and around his age.
My miss! I saved you! Do you love me! Are you the one for me?
I’m your miss? No. You’ve got me all wrong.
She sticks a spike from the black sack through his head
Embedding it in his lips.
This is a prison. You have only other men to choose from.
I was on death row, man. Thanks for freeing me. Looks like the girly face mask worked,
I’m not your true lover.
Hey, is he dead?
That guy with the spike through his head.
It’s through his lips.
Oh. Sorry. I though he was dead.
He’s just been rejected.
A moon that swallows up into the earth that, across from it, shows a sun.
A rain, a single drop, after a storm the night before.
The storm gave way to a crying eye, in the sky.
A crying eye.
A crying eye.
A crying eye.
The world has no idea whose eye it really is.
Path to the romance of a sunny day is blocked by a snowstorm that pulls someone back from a hope and love they felt they could share but not forgotten by someone who promised they would never forget a promise so fake without knowing what they were ever making to say “yes, I promise” a lie of speech. A cowardly way to say “no, thank you” without having to put out the energy to lie but it would take more energy to keep fake-ness in than to let it out in the outside, foolish and raw as the inside of a loveless lie seeps and sips on the coffee which gives it hyperactivity with a lovely penchant-at least for the lie-to hold and hold until it learns to love itself without knowing what the truth of it’s body ever was to expose a life to the outside-
It was love.
Format of a running finger, formatted to the space that is the finger’s cavern
Inside the deepest, coarsest part of the legs balance.
A format, which fits into a vulva entrance
The most outstanding compliment to what life could fill her with
As waves move through her skin at the electricity of the finger’s zapping strength and life
A head thrown back, the neck is vascular and pulses in turmoil with whether or not to calm down or accept all the passion that is coming in her
And now, it is coming in her
Nature, large, perhaps a little unnatural.
Nature, to give her a connection to herself.
Nature, to give her a connection is how she breathes, how she smiles, how she roars, how she purrs, how she feels the life outside.
A smile, so wide and impossibly warm
Melts his tender heart, on her
Swept legs, swept up in a terror of losing balance, falling from the strangest tree, like a dream, never brought to life when the dreamer awakened.
Something lost in the dream, dying and saying “goodbye” as soon as the dreamer forgot her previous night
Forgetting the dream before her long sleep
Restful in nothing.
A “beautiful” night’s sleep, to be placed with only the best sleeps at night.
Coming apart. What is coming apart, in the morning?
Is it that he never did get a restful sleep, with her?
Is it that he never knew how to get a restful sleep, without her?
Is it because his own sleep
Longed to sleep, with her?
Nothing longed to be nothing, anyway.
Anyway was equal to “whatever”
It’s all whatever.
I guess he finally realized
His love with her was so, so indifferent.
A soft pillow, being pulled out form under his feet, tripping over himself in an effort to bring himself back to reality.
But reality was a lie to him, no matter how much reality tried to hide that truth from him.
He hid away far, and he thinks it may have killed him. He doesn’t even know
She was peering through her blinds at him, the whole time
Her curtains floating out in the strong night air, to meet him
In her hopes
Of a smile.
A smile, never of lies.
Reflections in the coyotes that tear into each other without care.
Violence, a final countermeasure to make sure no violence to taken to the peaceful coyotes, who wish not to kill to survive and would much rather have dreams of dying, but have no choice but to protect themselves from being sadly eaten.
But this night, a male coyote has no intention or drive to kill a female coyote, who has tried to eat him.
Strangely the female girl coyote somehow took pity on his sad life, and couldn’t bring herself to kill him, in order for her to survive.
So, she stuck herself on his lips.
And, like she always did when she was in love
Gave her mate a new kiss
Under the stars of the night sky.
She transformed the male coyote’s sad life
Into something where he could feel true happiness for her.
Male and female girl lived forever, on a grass field
Of their dry and hungry world.
Stuck in a saving love
A performance of failed expectations, orchestrated by a hand that shook too much to look away from how to fix expectations that never live up to what he, she imagined.
The girl is shocked to learn her hand is wobbling.
The boy is shocked to learn his hand is missing?
No wonder they have failed expectations.
Their hands are so gone.
What could they have ever hoped to grabbed.
The boy and the girl brush against each other
Across a heart
Gang signs are written
Inscribed are the ways to kill rivals
None of them work
Shots, puncture, kill, end
A gang has gone missing
A heart is too open to this outside world
The real world, tears it apart and lets it cry.
Transformation of a disease, massive epidemic of clouds and rain
So natural a disease, so pure and alive
Feeling something they never felt recently, only when they were younger
What is this amazing feeling, they could never bring themselves to describe?
It’s a feeling of life, young and somehow, truly happy.
Part of the epidemic is her.
She started it all, after she spread a disease to a boy who clung to her body, like a leech.
Pulled at her dress in desperation, he wanted to feel her true happiness the boy understood she had felt, once in her life.
A hand on his forehead
She drew a symbol of a heart
And let him smile at her.
The boy couldn’t help himself
But to smile at the young woman, he loved.
She drew her life, in his forehead.
Operated upon on a table of silver
The patient was unaware the doctors wanted to remove his subconscious
Replacing it with the subconscious of another.
His love, maybe, but he was too unsure what to do
But to kick and shriek with painful confusion as his mind was taken from him.
But somehow, he only felt nothing afterwards. There was no pain. There was no hate. There was no venom, there was no anger, no aggression.
He was at peace. The peace was true and felt in the heart.
He was, somehow, so happy.
An extreme happiness, not having to worry about not having a mind.
Lying down on his bed cot the doctors placed him on
He felt like a smiling, innocent baby
As he went to sleep in the arms of his future lover.
A future lover, protecting him from the ills of both his, and her,
The grips of iron, on the chest with a beating heart to flow into a red space, full of love for a future.
Gripping the heart in one hand, the grabber pulls the heart into herself, and lets her blood flow through,
Into a space that was scared with memories of what she enjoyed imagining.
Ponies, elephants, night owls…. These critters were her favourites. They, so diverse and wild
So lovely and free, so beautiful and varied, each animal was her favourite, and she loved them all.
She couldn’t give back enough for their lives, so she simply cried at her inability to do so.
But, she wasn’t as helpless as she ever thought. A reaching hand, down to her chin, to pick her head up.
A kind man, full of grace for her, whose smile was true and budding, the colourful flower in the garden of gray.
A lovely face, she seemed to forget all of her fears of the world.
“I…. I love you.”
The hand lifted up, and her head was held high, with her lioness pride.
“Thank you, so much.”
Uncertainty was a fleeting moment for the man, who felt so scared to just speak up.
He was so unsure what to say, what to do, it left him in such a confusion, to not know how to speak up to his world.
But he meant well, and healing was what came naturally to him.
But he was also horribly gifted at hurting, and used this power to destroy a woman who trusted him to love her.
Breaking her bones, her heart was healthy, but her face had scars all over it.
Flesh that broke off her skin, flesh that broke into her flesh, flesh that broke into her neck, her throat clogged with the flesh of fat.
The flesh of fat, a covering for her heart, which was laid open bare for the man to take and run away with.
Lovely, yes, but fractured, yes, was her heart, which was piercing inside a angle which her body was not familiar with.
The heart itself wasn’t pieced:
The bottom of her body was pieced by the man’s fist, who stuck something steel but natural through her cavity.
No love to get back, the cavity was empty.
No love to find again, the cavity was full of a feeling
To run away.
The execution of hope, a swinging mallet,
Lightly tapping someone on the head to let them know
Their time had come, but it was full of lies, as the lies of the mallet was made of plastic.
Nothing was meant to kill them, the execution was part of a comedian’s act, foolish but intentionally so, as to entertain those who waited in line for their executions.
More, more time to live.
They were angered by the swinging mallet, which crossed their heads in an uncertainty
Of whether kissing them or not, was all worth it to begin with.
Worth…. Measured by the touch of somebody else, everyone loves to be touched by that one person.
But her touch is only meant for one. She decides, who to give her touch to.
Now, she has chosen him, when she had smiled at his life.
She had chosen to let him love himself, but the love would be from a big hug,
Inside himself, warmth from her hands.
Stepping up to the surface of the ocean, he is swimming below her
Just beneath surface, coughing up water to try to get up.
Just below her legs, he sees her face, look down at him, in smiling curiosity.
A fueling passion, he sees, but his hands don’t reach above the surface of her world.
Reaching down into the water, she sticks her hand through the surface.
Letting her hand touch him, she pulls her body underwater
As she splashes herself into him
And hugs him tightly, in a loving embrace
Of a big hug, the warmth he always wanted to feel, from her.
Spectre, a ghostly woman who floats above a home, she once inhabited.
Her apartment, with a shining light in this night.
She had so many amazing memories, there.
She remembers her true friends. She remembers the experiences, her true friends and her, had there,
In her home.
A social place, there was so much luxury inside, the rooms covered with fur and gold. Her friend’s loved to see where she would come from with her newest surprise from her hands, letting new additions and accessories to the home fall into place
Amidst the gold and real fur.
A pleasant, friendly place, just like how she loved it. Pleasant, and soft with the fur she gave her friends.
Her lovers would lie on the fur with her, admiring the gold on the walls, as she was covered in herself, as they covered her with themselves.
Their bodies with hers, some of the fondest memories of life she ever had, and she gave everything back to them, that they gave to her.
All of her love, in her home, on their male bodies, on her male lovers.
The gold reflected light off the world, when this young woman woke up
With her lovers in the morning, lying on her beds and carpets of real fur.
The life of a thousand notes, played without the instrument that made the sounds that were noticed
When she danced in a valley of the sounds she was making.
When she spun and spun, laughing at the sounds her tongue, the instrument of her choosing, made.
The notes, he hummed with her, for her, beyond her.
Taking her in his arms, he sped her around.
Taking her in his mouth, the man kissed her
Without moving his lips, to make a sound.
Movement of what moves outwards, pushing what shouldn’t be into a place
That makes too much sense to be.
An area, full of passion, neglected by the lack of cleanliness.
She brings herself to shower, but finds she can’t reach down into the area.
Polluted by her own stench, she lets her crotch be, as she simply goes to bed with her lover.
Smelling the stench, her lover refuses her, and looks away from what he should be tasting.
“It smells rotten.”
“It does? It smells…. That bad? Seriously?”
“It smells horrible. Wash it, please.”
“I don’t want to.”
Not wanting to, she goes back into her shower to wash herself dry, and get the dirt out her privates.
There is no water.
“Honey! We’ve run out of water, in the shower!”
“Ya. Sorry about that. I shut it off.”
“I figured you would just wash yourself, with the cloth I left outside. Get some water from the sink, ok?”
“Um, ok. Why would you do that?”
“Just get the towel.”
Stepping outside, she gets the towel that has been so laid for her.
“Ok, I have it.”
There is no water in the sink.
“Honey? The water in the sink is shut off.”
“Ya. Sorry. I forgot to tell you, it doesn’t matter if you are washing your vagina, or not.”
“Sorry? Sorry, dear?”
He stands by the bathroom door, and leans behind her in the mirror.
“I’m leaving you.”
“I have no need to smell your scent, anymore.”
He gives his love, a big hug.
“Maybe you can learn to love your own scent, without me.”
“You always had such a unique scent, dear.”
She smiled, as her love left her.
Why did you have to put me on a pedestal, honey?
I didn’t deserve to be so high.
You always loved my scent, but I disliked why you loved my scent.
I never loved my scent. I never wanted you to smell me.
I overcompensated, massive perfume on me.
You couldn’t even smell my breath, it was just perfume, you know.
But you smelled, right through me. I smelled…. Like joy, to you.
Even at Christmas, when you and I saw our first Christmas tree, together.
Even then, you smelled my scent, amongst the nutmeg and cinnamon cloves.
Under the mistletoe, you kissed me with a life
The scent of life, you never knew I had. I never knew I had it myself, until you showed me how the kiss transformed me, into the woman of your dreams.
But it was weird. I wasn’t any different.
I was the same woman, with the same scent, you had always known.
Under our Christmas mistletoe, kissing
Why the love had to fade…. Slowly, like something was dying.
Why the love had to turn away from it’s source of a crush of romance, letting this love, that could have been so much more, go in this air.
Air, between the both of them.
Eventually, one dies in the other’s arms.
Holding, and holding
Breathing, and breathing
Singing, and singing.
The life they both shared, to held in hands to feel the earth tremble at their kiss.
Reborn in the sea, they swim to each other
To see eyes sparkle.
A body full of carnal pleasure, pleasure of the body, soul, and mind
All rolled into one pleasure, to bring every aspect of life together.
Abstractly, the pleasure makes sure it is understood, with an ocean to breathe from.
With a world to see, itself be born into.
With a life, to feel
Itself grasp at, the sense that makes from the abstraction
A perfect, romantic compliment
To the movement of the penis, that moves forward and back, in life.
Palms that are hairy with a transformation
Plus, plus, plus
More hair to shed, with powerful hands to grab and choke
Something fragile and fraught with the terror of potential pain
Scaring it into being choked, the organ becomes filled with blood
And seeps veins into a hard mass, that can push life outwards into a pulling back reveal
Of a small slit, which life pours from, when the pour is so powerful and relieving.
Powerful and forceful, the choking hand lets the hairy penis
Move to its full form.
A beautiful sight, she sees.
The feast of love was complete
When the nipple was sucked dry
Sucking dry to give nothing back
Life was forfeit to give nothing to the
Entrance to heaven, sacrifice to pledge to
Misconstrue what was originally intended
To be the entrance to heaven
That never was.
Dry fields. False hair to be teared out from
Grounded in reality
Fields of chaos
Confused with each other
Elimination methods, to turn the desert to
For dessert, tasty and dry with an entrée
Walking by, her foot causes the sand
To rise into her lips
A kiss for the desert, her dry lips.
In the forest
The sanctuary of animals congregate
Around the couple, fornicating with
Happening around them, a strange orgy of
Nothing but animalistic senses,
Making love, hearts beating under the dirt
Of the forest, popping out beneath.
The naked couple, petting the forest critters
As they kiss each one, inside each other
One that aggressively pounds this dirt.
Finger cut off
Hung from the sex it was fingering
Virgin finger, dripping no liquid.
The confusion, as something was taken
Out of a heart
With a musky skeleton of a sea put in,
With no one to hug
To make it feel loved
The woman walks over the musky
Skeleton that was put into the man’s heart
And hugs his chest so tight, his heart
Help with growing a forest
Help with making trees new again
Lovely, how the trees seemed to grow themselves, with no help from humans that fed it water
These water bubbles, below the dirt of its intestine roots, planted next to the plants of nature,
By the humans who blew bubbles into the sky’s atmosphere
A bubble party,
For the trees growing
A bubbly party,
For the man and woman playing!
A bubble party
That floats bubbles to every home it can find
Bringing bubbles of air to ever lung it could have found.
She breathes in her bubble party, shared kindly with him.
She shares so, so kindly
With her him.
So, so many bubbles
In the air
The end of the bubble party
Is so lively and fun!
They both fly off
Into a sky of their own painting.
The bubbles float, with them
Suffice to the planet that cannot be landed on
The landing is insufficient, and the moon collapses into it.
Trying to hold up the moon, she grazes the sky, and flings herself back to earth, while her arms are so tired she can’t understand why the moon was so heavy to begin with.
Her subconscious, lacking the truth to say to itself: “I have too much to think of. I should just let my mind go, and let the horrible thoughts out.”
“My moon, is so heavy. Oh, why won’t it let me relax, and laugh?”
The moon crashes into her, and destroys her body, as it is torn into shreds, though her body looks nothing like how shreds were calculated to look like, instead like air that had seeped into her lungs
And torn her spinal cord from her ribcage, creating addition bones out of her meaty carcass.
Her thoughts crashed down on her, she feels herself faint.
“It’s…. so…. painful…. To think a lot.”
“I…. can’t…. go…. To…. sleep.”
“I tried…. Like, fucking…. Like, everything I could.”
“I’m still so sleepy.”
Lifting herself from her thoughts
Up, up, up
She feels herself think free, once again.
The moon is left, in her hand
As she looks at her mind, her mind in this moon.
Satin cushions on the pillow he lay his head down, her cheek pushed into his, letting him know she was alive and could see him herself, without the makeup he was wearing.
Too self-conscious to understand why he wouldn’t wear the makeup she had given to him, for his birthday,
She brought herself to sit on his lap, using his lap as her pillow, and picked her head off the ground, to put it back in her arms, as he felt her pull at his hair, trying to see if he was wearing a wig.
Much to her surprise, his wig was real.
Her boyfriend’s hair…. Came right off.
She put it on herself
You look at the stars that fall down into my hand, but the stars aren’t real…. There is no sustenance to the nutrition of the gravy that makes them flow, in the night sky.
The night sky…. Oh, the night sky can just fall down, without knowing why it had to fall.
Maybe…. That isn’t for the best.
I don’t want to night sky to fall down. It should stay up, with the stars-
But the stars are leaking gravy over the world, full of gravy that has no flavour or scent.
I can’t smell anything, and you cannot see me smile under my breathe.
But the stars keep shining.
Gravy that pours over this turkey, of the day’s night.
The promise…. Of hiding away in a cloak, that has birds fly away, when it seems to sing a song of a black moon, held in a bird’s mouth, chewing and chewing, so delicious.
The nutrition is deadly, the moon has sexual relations with the birds that come near it.
Pregnant and scratching, scurrying HIV and AIDS, these birds are infested with lice on their coats of pretty colours,
The drips of semen, the moon’s odd ejaculate.
A discharge into their bodies, the feeling is strangely refreshing, and the birds happily accept the moons destiny for them….
As the bearers of horrible diseases, pregnant with the nights, ahead.
Bear and woman, who play and play, who laugh and laugh, who smile and smile, who cry and cry, who breathe and breathe, who know and know
A relationship that will go nowhere, is doomed to happen.
Every time he lies on top of her, she is made frail under the weight she can’t even understand.
It is so heavy, the melting body she wears is no match for what is less than a match to match her weight, as she is slammed always, into her hole, a place where the bear takes her to….
A home for her, in her bear’s arms
That hold a world, strange and frightening, that the young lady
The triplets that suck and converge on the breasts of their mother, holding her tender flesh in their teeth, careful not to bite
But there are no promises, as one bites down to let blood come out from the milk that her breast holds…. He cannot drink both, so he opts for the blood, mixed with a cocktail, with the mother’s milk,
Happily letting the milk and blood of breast drip out of his mouth, not knowing he has just hurt his mother dearly
Her body fading, skin turning pale, and her eyes closing, when her children are brushed with her eyelashes.
Dying, she puts herself in her children’s arms
She lets the child who had torn her breast in a concoction,
To chew her deflated body
And to feed the other children she had, their most vital nutrients.
As her eyes close, and their mother passes away.
Perhaps not knowing if she would ever wake up or not
The child who killed his mother
Rubs her head in a pained healing
His mother would get better, for her to see his father.
On her corpse
Spilling blood and milk
A lone flower of green and purple blooms.
At the centre of the epicentre,
Of her life.
The flower shows to her children
Who admire the first thing they see
When they came into this world,
A long, long time ago.
A spoonful of applesauce
Is fed to a child, out of this flower.
A perfect consistency
Not a thing drips down his belly.
The mother disappears
Into the ground, fertile and free
The sun is shining.
I haven’t seen
You in awhile
What made me want to kill you, in the first place
Oh, wait. I understand.
You were already so
So dead to me.
Don’t look at me
I can’t see your face.
Sorry, I didn’t believe
You were dead.
When you tried to get into my head
It didn’t work very well,
When you tried and tried
To get into my spine, to control me
It worked out well for you, until I hunched over
That was when you saw
Yourself fall down
Sliding too far to be discovered.
Inside my mind, I’m having sex
With someone who was never, you
The way of peace
Flawed and faltering on a twig
About to fall off
Ok, I understand
When the twig falls
With the air holding my necessary life peace force
I’ll blame you
For starting a fire on my branch.
The spiral that was created when the sun was moved into position over her, was great and large, letting her body feel the warmth she thought she had forgotten.
With the sun shining on her crotch, the sun made a sphere of hair, formed into the bushes of nature, around her….
Her forest growing bright, when the sun split the roots for her to feast on, providing sustenance for her to feel like, the energy of her youth the primary functioning of the dark skies she pulls over herself like a blanket.
The greenery of this world, is her mind.
The sun of this world, the sun is her life.
The strip of gold, the underwear that hangs over the pit of underwear, where the bra falls inside
Her body, the hole so deep in her chest, her breasts wiggle and flop into her mind, letting he realize that sight was a negative way of perceiving her body.
The pair of eyes that are so focused on her, understand the worth of her beauty.
What beauty, the eyes see for themselves
Even with her breasts lopsided, flopping, and dried-up
Visible only to the imagination of a mind
Faded memories, of a so lush body
When she went to bed,
The panties of her body fell under her sheets
When she woke and, and throughout her night,
The panties changed colour, in a rainbow.
Visions of a grand vision
Knowledge given to the mind who saw a brain, much like
A brain that had been given to them by a hand of fate who was not fated to be fate,
But instead took on a disguise of fate to let a tornado of confusion plague people’s lives
About what is right and what was not right, sending a confusing pulse of nonsense through their hearts, to give life a confusing purpose that could only be figured out with her knowledge
Of why that boy wouldn’t sleep with her, even after she had spread her body for him, so, so
Open wide, he could see her vision of womanhood, licking at his scrotum, shrink in size to feel the insides of her ripe body, hanging on a branch
Growing a branch, she grew herself.
Branch of olives
Smiling and smiling to themselves, when they felt themselves eaten by her in a garden of olives
Green and succulent, succubae for the woman to feast on her final meal
Before going to a round table, where she would live out her life
With no one leaving to go see her from their homes, no one to give her the light she wished to see from her existence, a pulsing fist of olives shoved inside her mouth, to keep her quiet
And so, so lonely
Touch…. Touch…. Touch…. Touch….
Hand…. Leg…. Head, cheek, face
Pulled out, crashed down, pulled into, pulled negative to tears.
Cheek stripped down, bare essentials, bones seen through the squirrel’s cheeks
Cheeks can’t seem to hold anymore, dam breaks, dam screams, dam doesn’t know how it got to this point in its life
Damned life, forgot being empty
Damn is flood with the dam next door, confused spiral of water, breaking into a square space that reaches
A girl, who lets begs her hands to hold the water that created her life, a lover life, beautiful with budding legs on her, run and run, so strong,
So, so strong, so, so, so strong
Run forever and jump far into the distance
She lands on herself
And crushes her spine under her own screams of happiness
Joy water, the dam re-floods itself.
Winter sees its best friend
Have a joyous birthday party
Nobody can remember how long they had celebrated, each year
One woman, holding them together
Between her legs
Opened one day
For them to breathe, in her.
Concussion changes the thought process of the turtle, as the female turtle hides in its shell, away from the earth that wants to smash it,
Shell so weak and fragile, it could break like hell, it could lead the turtle to hell
As hell leads the turtle to a male, who is unlikely to find a mate
With anyone in a shell, who fails to break free of it and speed up into his arms
Arms that speed up at a distance which can fly into the turtle’s neck, sudden impact
Which leads him to a paralyzing wheelchair, as he curses her, to die, now, now.
The female turtle remains in her shell
She feels it break one day
Her head pops out
So young head
Is cut off,
With a chop.
Winter, cold and laughing
With a young girl, who she once was, who flows her kite into the winter season
Unafraid of it being tore down
By the snow.
Why would she be afraid
Winter keeps her so warm, the cold reminds her
That change is something that happens
In these seasons
She thinks she always saw, in such, a so young way
Through young eyes.
There is nothing wrong with her love
For this season.
As the moon comes to midnight
It is so full, once in this year.
Her feet on the ground, she can feel the moon’s glow
Her arms outstretch in giving, she holds the full moon up
Just for this one special night, of this year
She had to live to have saw.
This young woman…. She does know
How this night feels, to her.
It never should have to end.
Her real life was.
In her bed, at night,
Her panties cloth her lush, lush, sexy body
Perfectly shaped to her flesh, a colour that shows her sexuality
Against her flesh, hugging it close to her colour.
A helping hand, and a smiling face, she gave to me, to hold in my palm…. Favourite to me, favourite to her, the feeling was unlike anything I had ever felt.
She kissed me on my forehead, and lay me down
So she could feel my penis rise, up to meet her mouth
A gem, placed on my tip, as my gold covering was pulled back.
So lively and beautiful, her eyes shine with a gleam,
Ready to suck me so, so dry.
Fingering an attachment to a realm that never knew how to finger itself back to the senses of lust, staying in a fantasy of sadness it had created.
For the cheek that holds the head close to spell “I love you” on the cheeks of a lucky, lucky boy.
Spelling something out, so vast, she is spelled out on his cheek, to give him the love he always sought to have, from her.
Laying he down, she gives him a kiss, and standing him back up
For him to hump her, down again. Letting her tongue float over her body, she seems to control his fear of the world, by giving herself to him, to feel so good, so loved
Inside himself, without any effort at all
On her part.
Her part to play, when she smoothed out his cheek, and spread her inner lips across his knees, moving upwards and upwards to graze against his stomach,
Hearing the moan he gave to her.
It was a moan so strong, a moan is flamboyant, she could only assume that is was a moan, for her.
As she saw him smile, at her knowledge
That she would never, ever lift herself, off him.
Her lover, a boy she had found
One day, for herself.
Green stars, so bright and night-like, they float in the sky that can’t figure out
What they are.
The sky doesn’t get them, and the earth rejects them, so where were they ever supposed to go?
Down to a depth, where they can’t reach down to find anything? That seems a little ridiculous, don’t you think?
Their greatest bet is to reach up, and take the stars that aren’t like them, from the sky.
Only then will they find themselves
Free, and in her malleable hands
Of love, that control their so warm bodies
As she feels their soft skin for the first time
Accepting that they are so, so green and shining….
Like how she always wanted to see herself, shine, when she was younger.
A youngest one born, a youngest one made without a fear to put anything inside, what was made.
As easy and natural as breathing air.
What air needs to be breathed, what air needs to be put down.
What air needs to be forgotten, what air needs to be taken back, from ones who did not breathe the air properly.
As the air itself, has no input on what the sky or clouds should have done with it.
It’s just as confused as the humans are, that tried and failed or somewhat succeeded to breathe it.
The sky is floating, up in a haven of solid and sturdy meat clouds, that which could have been eaten by the people on earth for nutrition.
Stomachs full of air, heads that show air to seep through the cracks that pierce inside the cracks to piece inside the crack inside the cracks of piecing, no idea where the target is to pierce.
Something falls down, and dies, without knowing why.
But…. It is not sad.
It felt so much love in life, from another that lies with it
As life went to bed, ever night it whispered secretes to its precious lover.
The precious lover’s body, lifting life up, with life in it, just to look at and admire.
The woman who was a soul controller for the spring, left her position to reside in her own suffering.
She had lost someone precious and dear to her: Life, slipping away.
A need to love, she realized she could not have ever found anywhere else, but with the touch of life
She felt playful laughter for, when she was touched by the hand that made up her lover.
Smiling at him, so wide and sexually enticing, the hand held out to take hers
And take her to a place
She never knew of, somewhere far….
A place of youth, fantasies with her love, so playful
In his…. Life’s…. arms,
Strong and making her feel, like a playful child.
Playful, and playful
Glowing and glowing, it seemed nothing could make her stand out in a crowd of scheming reptiles, who all wanted to wear her flesh, a dream in sleep
They had, once, to be just like her.
The girl, young and innocent, oblivious to what these reptiles wanted to take from her….
Her body, her body that belonged to him. And only, to him.
She would keep, for herself, to steal back when they tried to take her meaty flesh away,
Gold and filled with delight,
When they couldn’t help but just stare, with thumping hearts inside their bodies….
Quivering with a strange jealously for her…. they really wanted to be her, to have her looks, to wear her gold flesh, to let her breathe with them.
Breathes of the shallow and the loving, loving the way she moved, loving the way she sang, loving the way she would trip herself over her stares,
Like she never did care,
When in reality,
She loved all the flattery
Her reptiles gave to her.
Stares, that flattered her so much, lit up her eyes and her smile and her days
With the love that she felt, that grew inside her….
The love, she so felt for herself.
Caring for herself from how lit-up she was from the flattery,
The young girl hugged herself deep,
And the smile on her face, on her pink lips, soft with tender kisses of such warmth….
So, so warm lips….
Was the truest inner smile, this young girl had ever felt from her flattery,
In her young life.
In the snow rain, the snow that spilled down and down and down
Was not snow at all, but a manifestation of dreams that a child had been dreaming,
About the rainfall, earlier that night.
Something beautiful about how the rain just fell and fell, there was something magical about how the rain just poured and poured, throughout this night
The child had seen
The rain was, maybe, perhaps, a little too heavy, even for the snowfall that came afterwards
Leading and leading away from his home, the child looked outside.
And the first thing he saw, was her.
A girl, around his age, standing there.
“Hey! Hey there! You can come in, if you want to!”
He called out to her, through the open window of his parents home.
“Oh! Ok! I’ll come right in! Thank you for inviting me in, so early in the day!”
“Early in the day? But, the time is so late!”
“Oh, no! Is it, really?”
“Yes! It’s raining so heavily! It wasn’t raining like this, earlier in this day, you know!”
“Oh…. I’m sorry. Your right. How rude and oblivious of me. I’ll come right in, so I can keep warm…. With you!”
The boy was blushing.
This girl wanted to keep warm…. With his warmth?
“You take really smart for a girl, I know. I don’t see many that talk like you. Come on in!”
The boy runs to the door, and opens it for her, his hand barely reaching the golden door handle.
“Ok! Come in-!”
The beauty of the girl outside, stuns him.
Her skin is golden, which he can see, even through her thick winter clothing.
Her face is so bright, the brightest he had ever seen, that is make shim want to cry, burst into tears on her lovely, lovely face.
“You’re…. so pretty….”
The girl giggles.
“Thank you. Ya.”
“…. No problem….”
“Can I…. step in?”
The boy immediately shakes himself out of his trance, and steps out of this so pretty girl’s way.
Immediately, the girl throughs her arms around the young body, keeping him so warm
With her gorgeous body heat.
“Thank you…. I feel so warm, hugging you.”
He hugs her back, realizing he is crying from how pretty he thought she was.
“You’re so warm…. I’ve never felt…. Anyone as warm as you….”
She giggles, at how warm, her boy is.
Standing in his home on this snowy night, the boy knows the girl means no harm to him.
She only ever wished to embrace his warmth, and come home with him, to rest in his
Warm arms, of the night.
Split and tidy love, I’m spilt between loving or hating you.
You had taken so much from me: The promise of love, the promise of a life I could find so, so much warmth in, the promise of a young life, for me to see.
But all I ever wished to do was love you.
I thought of loving you while I was sleeping, I loved how you always wished to sleep beside me,
But I never understood why you did: What was so special about me, so worthy, that I could be your lover?
Were you just fooling yourself, making yourself believe I was the lover, you had been searching for?
Because, I promised you,
I would find my way back to you.
I promised you,
We would sleep in the same bed together, and our passion on the bed….
Would be as passionate
As what I had always seen your life as, in my so lovely imagination.
You saw, of my and your future together.
Thank you, for letting me love myself.
How kind of you, how, kind, how kind
You really had cared about me
So, so unbelievably much.
I wish to love you
With every last drops of the tears, I gave to you,
My only dear.
Snake twisted, spun around an extension cord that was lifted up in the air with a twirl of purple-dyed dreadlocks twisted through the centre, to the middle, to the front, to the back, twirled like a girl’s hair, spun in her little finger’s when she talked to her first crush, on the playground she remembers, in those days.
Days, snakes crawled up her legs and into her mind and eyes, gifting her with a vision of love, that she used to spread to everyone who need to love, but could never find what love they so longed for, searched for, in the sky, in the clouds, in the life they lead,
So hopeful for the day they would see their beloved, and scream their name with a whisper, a voice choked in a throat
From not being able to say anything, so suffocating and sad, their life never really began, that love never did find them
Where they lay to sleep, looking out at the night
Wondering if there could have been just something, full of so much love, out there, for them.
These lovely nights, they think they fell in love with, before they even knew they were friends
Friends no longer, they found love
In the cool air they searched for, every night.
The night world, so deserted and new, a place to be found, day after day
Somewhere new, somewhere
They hadn’t yet seen before….
The love, they had been looking for, so such a long time
Bumped into them, when their eyes were stunned
At their new discovers, in these nights.
Romance, floating in the air, as she went to bed
Hugged by the night she had never imagined she would ever not want to feel…. Somewhere, that was fresh to her
When the world was first opening up to her, a time she still remembers and never forgot,
Ever, in her life.
Caring, not able to be expressed as she wished it to, no matter how hard she tried to love
What was only in her so, so dreamy imagination, for the spirit of love, pure and shining
Like a sun, summer in a dreamy, so dreamy life.
Without a love to speak of, it seems the only option left of the dead , living breath of the carcass was to pick itself up and start so anew, again.
Easier said than done.
The carcass really, really couldn’t just get up, on its own legs
Wobbling way too fast to stand up on their own, falling in bunches of knees that wobbled and deflated, so heavily, so fast, so cowardly, escaping form every situation that made no sense to it.
Failing love, a love to love itself, was failing and flying away, a bird without knowing what colours it wanted to ever be, mother telling it, it would never grow to be anything of value….
Valuable, so valuable in its own eyes, it know it’s mother was wrong, and picks up his scraps of memory, he would rather forget, as he can’t pick up his mellow of bones and strange, overgrown carcass from the ground he sits himself at
Collapses under his knees, he feels himself so weak to realize life is right in front of him.
Come to apologize for her motherhood, to him.
A so kind gesture, from her, something he never expected.
His tear ducts burst, in the corpse of his soul
That is still lying down
The corpse…. He never even knew he still had the life left
To ever cry
For his mother, here to save his life.
Perverse recollection of scattered nonsense in bones, sending nerves to come undone on the outside of this outside of the natural world.
This outside, he had not seen in such a long time, looked so bright to his smile.
He couldn’t believe how she had pulled him outside, her being so outside of him
He feeling her, so inside him.
The sun had so much feeling…. He could feel her, smile at him, from the sky.
It was the most romantic smile there was, young and freeing, a weight of her chest
When she had whispered to him
That it was time she thought he go outside.
“Can’t you see me, in this sun….?”
The first look she gave him, to his eyes.
Enough to melt his heart.
With the warm applesauce, of her eyes.
The rose and the thorn
So sharp, so soft and red, so blooming and perfect to be seen.
The thorn is green and revealing, the thorn is green and piercing.
The rose blooms over the hill it was planted, planted on the hill it was borrowed from, without knowing why it had to be taken from something so vast, beyond it, it could not be shared with anybody else.
The thorn sat alone, waiting for a hero
To come save it, from loneliness.
The hero sped off on his horse to catch the thorn, getting away from it, strangely, without knowing why it was trying to flee from the hero that was trying to save it from dying.
The dying thorn, realizing it could not be saved by its hero….
Jumped to its death, of the long, steep fall of the rose’s hill.
Locked in an asylum for much of his life, the man was torn and felt himself pulled like sausages, linked, into shreds.
Little bits of bone sticking through his cotton straitjacket, he could free himself by chewing through his constraints at any time, but knew it was better he remained trapped,
As human contact-or contact with any life, of any kind-was not his speciality.
He never saw any life, for as long as he could remember.
He couldn’t even remember…. Did he ever know?.... who had imprisoned him there, in the first place.
Or why…. He was even there, to begin with, in his life.
Freed from his prison cell, his cotton straitjacket limping and falling off him by itself, he smiled, for the first time in his life, when he saw the outside world.
A small smile, of inner warmth, of the feeling of life.
I’m so free, and I can feel the outside of my life!
Not knowing what he could do to survive with nothing-money, shelter, food, water, a bed to sleep in-
He took a job as a coroner, seeing his first cemetery he had ever seen, in his life.
Unsure as it why he wanted to be coroner so badly, his employers offered him the job, reluctantly.
But he wanted to perform so, so well in it!
He had never seen a dead body before, and it was an experience to him.
He was excited.
While his time in prison was sorrow and such sadness, he had no idea if life felt suffering
At the end of death,
As, being isolated from everything in life, his whole life,
The man had no idea that life, one day, died.
His first corpse.
Excited, so excited he was.
Like a little child, discovering their parents dead, and having a comfort for him and her, no sorrow to their passing away.
His first corpse….
The most beautiful life, he had ever visually seen.
Truly so, so stunning to his eyes.
A woman, a body full of life to his eyes, with incredible, dark eyes, still open like she was so alive, even as she couldn’t move her hypnotic face.
The man realized he was staring, and quickly looked away.
How rude of me. He thought.
He had never felt the body of a woman before, in his life.
The coroner was too stunned by the woman to move. A white sheet covered her naked body, as he could see the outline of her body’s shape inside the white dress.
“What a beautiful lady. She looks like a goddess.”
The white sheet, showing her nipples peeking through.
Throwing the white sheet off slowly, he let the softness of the sheet fall on her thighs, meaty and soft, as the man slowly pulled the sheets off her, and rubbed a hand on her leg, feeling the warm touch of the meat of her body, so much of it to generate heat on his hand.
He began stroking the woman’s fresh corpse.
He thought he could hear the goddess,
“She’s so soft…. Is this what life…. feels like….?”
He slid himself, before he realized he could take back what he was doing, under her white dress, next to her soft body, feeling her heat and warmth even from the short distance he was to her, not touching the dead lady’s body.
“Oh…. Oh…. Yes….”
The man’s hand rubbed her shoulder, her left shoulder, as he turned the corpse over to face him, head-on.
Her beauty was not hers to control, as the man forced the woman of incredible, stunning beauty that he couldn’t describe without choking up, to look at her new lover.
“You’re so pretty…. why did you have to die…. Why does something so pretty, in life, have to leave?”
The man’s hand ran through her hair, and he leaned into her, to give her a kiss.
“So pretty…. I want to bring you back to life…. miss….”
His face pushed into hers, and he realized he was crying, his force of his cheek forcefully pushing her large eyes shut, their darkness hidden as her eyelashes brushed his face,
And the man cuddled with her.
“I’ll go in your place…. I just want to see you alive again.”
The woman’s body was pulled into his.
Her legs where intertwined, and cuddling, with his.
Her meat-filled, flesh-loved body in life, felt alive again, in his arms.
“I wish to bring you back to life, to me.”
“Wouldn’t you want to cuddle me, with your warmth, miss?”
Sleeping in her death bed, the man lay with this
Gone, goddess woman
He had discovered, a place in life
He never knew
He could have found, outside in the sun.
“I think I’ll lie with you forever. Here, in your bed.”
“I don’t ever want to stop looking at you, my miss.”
“Thank you, for accepting me.”
“With your body.”
“…. Into your bed, sleeping forever with me.”
The man had found his beauty of life
In this gone, goddess of a young lady.
A body he felt, so fertile and lush
That it would melt on the man’s tongue.
Even if the young woman, was long gone.
In her own, special way
…. Of her secrets, from the man.
This man, who had found his goddess woman.
To sleep, with her life.
Her love, of him.
His love, of her.
In her, his goddess of love.
His love song, to her.
Together, this man and this goddess
Could have, once, seen the sky, and the clouds,
Guillotine, mixed with a cocktail of death for the finest bartenders to let loose on unsuspecting victims, wrongly accused by slimy lawyers who wanted to take money into their own hands, grafting the source of their own chaos, as they were brought into court to have their tonsils pulled out, in stress of no life.
Guillotine, as a boy hangs himself without hanging himself or understanding the concept, by laying in bed and doing nothing with his life.
Guillotine, as the same boy finds pleasure in himself, playing and experimenting with his won body in so, so many ways, his imagination takes hold of his wild body, quivering and throbbing beneath the sheets he hides himself in.
Guillotine, as a young girl finds herself in the boy’s arms,
And gets to play with him, not knowing what to do to get the experience she needs to please him, as he wishes from this girl.
Kicking her out of his world, he slams the door on her face, when she didn’t live up to his expectations.
Left out in the cold, she goes back to her bedroom.
And like the guillotine her hand was,
She starts self=pleasuring herself, in the best, greatest ways
She knows how.
And it was so much better
Then being with the boy
Who dropped a guillotine on her face.
The brutal hurt,
That sent her back to self-pleasure.
The guillotine, of her own self-pleasure
As she dies, in it.
…. Never to escape.
The surge of unnoticing, the surge of not noticing what slowly creeped up,
And took a bit out of the hand that feeds, destruction limited to the destroying village of villagers who destroy a village of destruction to bring peace to destruction that rained on a village of peace, not made peaceful by the destruction that rained down to destroy the village that was once peaceful without stress,
But stressed by the degree of suffering the destruction caused by the lack of peace to be applied to the village, when the village was destroyed with peace, without knowing how to not start a war with peace with peace when it never wanted to wish to do anything but nothing like fighting, residing in peace
Along with the destruction it closed its crying eyes to see, shutting off a village world of peace to
See nothing it had ever valued, like a peace, for itself.
Destroyed, in this crying village world.
It never wanted this war.
It never wanted these wars, to take the rainbow of peace out of its villagers,
Fighting for their lives, against themselves
Dying, so bad.
Monster of creation
Monster of creation
Monster of creation
Monster of creation
More monsters of creation
Nothing like it
Monster, of our own creation
Life, forgotten and forfeit, neglected and made so impure.
Something needs a plant of strength….
To flourish, with us, and her.
Helped to die, medicine of pain was forgotten
By the monster that lay on the death bed
Breathing solid air of colours, where colours were solid and vast,
Showing the meaning of life, but not showing life without meaning.
The monster on the medicine smiled, his arms happily forgotten with his body, as the arm found a house, rent, a life, without him….
A war-time injury, cut from the arm to the head, scar on the face not as deep as the arms had been, missing from the body it failed to gain teaching knowledge to acquire itself to.
Acquiring ultra sense, the medicine flows in deep veins, flows out the other end without breathing
And its host has stopped that silly breathing, knowing he is dead in this hospital.
Plants that grow out of a fist, flying a flag so high to blind the sky to the moon, as opposite night
And too opposite to get along, but they somehow still love each other, so much they can’t let go of themselves,
Crying from a lack of innocence, fists that give up trying to hold a past that was remembered, a past, as they held fists together, palms sweating and gripping the other with a fear of death
If they let go.
Plants that know the side-effects of if the fists let go of their grips, the grips let go before the fists can un-clench.
Unclenching, the fists are sweating from a stress.
The stress, of knowing they are about die.
The fists are so unclenched, and leaking fluid of something extraterrestrial into the heart of the other.
The vortex, a spiral-like shape of a collection of hearts, knowing their masters are about to unfold
Seek to put their masters back together
But when the day changes into night,
The vortex is complete.
Out of their bodies, the two clenching their fists so tight….
Well, they let go.
What they find in the nights, their lives proceed to live….
It’s relaxation, uplifting and meditative
Before they lull themselves into bed.
Mediation and sleep
A spring, that overflows from a fountain
Within this home.
Knifes, penetrate sex.
Knifes, penetrating the lust of a overgrown love.
Animal, wild and free, chopped and crooked.
These tonsils, so tight inside my mouth, that dig in the stars I see at night.
These brain cells, digging into the tonsils of what I see of her animal.
A shape, of shapes, many that make up her body.
Lush and strong does no justice.
The only lick on her that makes sense, is the lick that is licked on her cheek, to show the love,
That she knows means:
I care, for you.
Pit of sun
Pit of grass, blown with sun
Pit of holes, in a heart
Blown with grass, over the sun
Pit of lust,
In a mind
Blown with night
Over the sun, who doesn’t understand why it longs for it,
A longed-for sight
A sight, of a glowing shape of the goddess’s form.
In Olympus, the gods have gathered to remove one of them, who does not belong.
Just one treason, and she was let from the council of Olympus, resigned of her position as being a goddess of the world.
Left abandoned, she wandered to find a peace and a love, just within herself
As she had given up on everything else, that was ever so dear to her.
Finding her place amongst the sun as its carrier, who was supposed to carry the sun for all eternity,
She thinks she realized
Just how much she loved
The nature of her unique job, requiring her strength and her fortitude
To get through, each and every day she woke up, and went to sleep.
The rejected goddess
She loves holding up the sun.
The sun…. he really grew
To love having the goddess Olympian
Hold his body in her hand, day after night,
Day after night
He saw this sky, with her.
Perfect and untouched, her outlook was innocent and carefree
Intelligent and knowledgeable, she lived alone, for herself.
But knowing she craved in desperation to share her life with someone else, a young man who could hold her and put her down in bed
She sought him out, in all the wrong places.
Not as natural to her as breathing, dating was so confusing and uncomfortable.
Not as natural to her as love, breathing while trying to find her date was not
Natural at all.
The only natural feature of herself, was
What was so natural about her desire for love.
Her desire to date
Rooted in a fascination of what dating someone who wasn’t on her perfect level of colours would feel like.
A selfish desire to be way better then her date, she, one day, found what she had been looking for.
Some man, whose name she did not care about.
She knew he would be a servant to her, and tattooed a mark of “slave” on the black man when he was traded into
Her sex shop.
Using her body as a weapon, he is lured into the dinner spread inside her legs,
Feeling his face flush and deepen with a red embarrassment that he can’t love her
For who she is, to him.
Blinded by how amazing it would be to love her, the slave give himself up to her.
He simply licks and licks, placing tongue in mouth, tongue inside, tongue in place of worship.
He simply feels and feels, feeling his tongue claw and scrape at the inside of her bright pink.
Tongue inside, the jailcell shuts, and he is cut off from his tongue.
Heart and soul thrown away to call him in prison, his tongue can’t get out of her legs.
Tongue so soft, the littlest twitch she does sends him into orgasm.
Orgasm of his food, which has become her dates.
Dates with him go as a slave and owner should. Black and not black, slavery is alive and well.
Well, it was.
Until the fateful day, when the black man asked the lady
To love him, if she ever felt anything towards him.
The lady responded
By putting his tongue in her
And told him
Not to ever ask any more “damn questions”,
About the lady’s love for her “dates”.
His tongue shall not move, every again,
Except the places, the places she wants his tongue to be.
In the morning,
His calming mind
Was slept, next to her body, as she smiled at him.
He wanted to make love to her,
One time, long, long past.
He wanted to make love to her,
One time, long, long past.
All of her, that miss Katrina, she gave to him.
The boy doesn’t know how to say, “thank you, so much!”, to that young woman.
When her life was flowing….
That Katrina…. Took that boy….
With her eyes, lips
And her body.
…. All for him, that boy
This young woman saw, once upon a time.
In her and his life.
What is he holding unto, for her?
He just doesn’t want to ever forget that young lady,
…. It was sunshine.
Believe me, miss Katrina.
It really was, to me.
Have a so nice night.
I give you, my life.
Do with me, as you please.
I am yours, to play with.
A kiss of gold lips, pressing on the cheek of a boy
A kiss, he kisses back, his lips wet and love, loved!
A hug for her, and a kiss on her lips.
Crying a little to himself, he hugged
A kiss of gold, for a girl
So far away,
That she was in his arms.
I’m not going to look at you, for once,
Even though I lied to myself, and I’m going to go looking for you,
…. Or, just another night, where I might have seen you.
Yes, I am, miss love.
Are you going to leave me lost?
Are you going to make me escape reality, once again?
Please, no, miss love.
I never wanted to do that.
I don’t want to escape reality, miss love.
I want to love you.
I always, wanted to love you, so much.
I want to feel your body, I want to kiss you
There’s nothing else for me, in reality.
Please, please let him love you…. once upon a time,
Back in the days,
…. When you were so young.
Her youth…. Was once in a boy’s eyes.
Why, oh why,
Did that boy
Ever fall in love, with her?
What was his love ever worth…. To her?
Did that, fucking, like, boy
Never think I, like, fucking, loved him?
I loved that, fucking, fuck so much.
Oh, I mean, like, that, fucking, boy.
Hahahaha! Fucking, like, smartass.
Thinking I never, fucking, was in love with him.
Ya…. I never think I ever truly lost him.
I mean, I still, somehow, fucking, remembered him.
There was just, like, something about that boy,
…. You know?
Maybe…. No, I, like, know….
I think he…. Reminded me of myself.
Kinda nice, wasn’t it, for me?
I, like, thought it was.
I, like, really thought it was.
…. I, like, really, really thought he was.
The climaxing arm of waving so high
Can’t seem to put an arm down that she smiles at
So bright and womanly, with strength to match the power her kiss him
Plucked on her face, she kisses this young girl back
Smiling on her lips, she kisses her loving, so loving
Boyfriend back, full of warm and always honest love for her,
Ever since this woman, was a young girl, growing up by herself
To cry and play with.
Up, at the sunshine of her, only her, youth.
So, smiling, so big
At the sun she used to see....
It was my youth.
And she loves me, for it.
She loves me, for what she saw
That one day.
That reminded her of so much, in her young life.
I loved you, through this so long, long year.
And I loved you to,
I loved that boy I once saw.
I loved you, through my so long, long year.
A year of so many, many years
I had lived, and I had seen, through.
What a vision of love, I am!
Please, please make love to me, Robert.
…. Your, miss love,
I am so honoured.
She honours him.
She chose me, I am so honoured
From her eyes.
What did…. She really see, in me?
I think we could have been lovers, once upon a time.
She Makes Me Love Myself
I don’t like myself,
But she makes me love myself, so much.
Wrapping me in a hug I cannot escape from, her hands hug me from the inside out.
A warmth, that comes from the memories of her love,
I can’t help but to smile, a little, at her warm hands
That hug me close, and warm.
As I think about this young woman’s life, I once saw.
Miss love was a lover, the most powerful of all lovers, purity somehow untouched by anything in life,
She was unrealistic, miss love.
But fantasy loved her, miss love.
Miss love, was also a goddess.
Miss love held a planet of love up, all by herself.
Miss love…. She was a goddess, admired by all.
And a young woman
Who gave love to everybody.
Fuck miss love.
She never gave me any, of her love!
Why couldn’t I love my crush, miss love?
She was my crush, for me to love!
Miss love never loved me!
She was laughing at her crush’s love, as he wanted to warm her,
With his love for her!
Miss love laughed at his love, for her!
Isn’t that called
Something that begins with a “b”?
You love my voice, so, like, fucking so much!
You know, I really wish I would have had a life purpose.
That would have been lovely.
That would have been so lovely.
That would have been so, lovely.
Ya. It’s me.
That shit is, like, overrated.
I came in myself, already
Just…. Having thought about your life, miss love.
Thank you so much, for all, all you ever gave me,
You were a so true goddess.
The goddess, of life.
The goddess, I had always longed to see
In my life.
I can’t really believe
That I think I saw yours.
Thank you, so much!
For the youth, you gave me!
Miss love is out there, somewhere, tonight.
Bothered by the karma of an ever-loving side note of neglect and strain on how unnatural so many can be, the goat feels confused, as its Billy goat tendencies do not fit into society.
Bothered by everything, it goes to wander down to a hole, to escape from everything it held dear,
Including a woman, whom he believed he could have loved, in his youth.
Her youth and his, intertwined and inner-wrapped with fingers, to create holding hands to never put down their love.
The goat is so nervous with his crush, that his hooves shake and tremble violently. They feel so weak, and the goat feels like he is going to collapse from her beauty.
His crush…. His goddess of a true youth, her light and powerful sexual energy folding into his heart, his soul, his life. His youth, of her and his life.
This goat is named “Billy”, but he doesn’t think that the name means anything.
The goat is so content to smell his lover’s vagina, that he forgets that he is not human.
The girl he fell in love with, a goddess to him, not something he believes is real, stares at him with so much fear.
She doesn’t want to believe that she fell in love with a goat.
“You’re hideous. Get away from me.”
“But, miss…. I want to love you.”
“You’re a goat. You are nothing like me. Get away from me, please.”
Billy looked up at her, with a sparkling wonder of “why?” at how beautiful she was, while a wonder of “why” she was rejecting and isolating him came to be over him….
When all he had ever wished to do, was love her, for her beauty.
“No…. Miss…. You’re my miss….”
And with that, Billy was isolated from her.
He lived, rejected and isolated from life, from her so beautiful life,
The life she had crushed, from him
As Billy looked at her, admiring his goddess
…. With so much love, to never be given the chance
…. To give her body, and her beauty.
…. A life.
Could you have imagined
All the times we could have played together,
When we were younger, Katrina?
You were always what I was looking for, miss!
I can’t believe I found you!
I can’t believe you are so real!
I love you!
Miss love, my lover.