Mixed Messages – be part of a poem

  What do you long to say to someone? Your words could be part of a poem. Leave the phone message you always wanted to, but couldn’t. Some or all of the words in your message could be picked to be pa… Source: Mixed Messages – be part of a poem

she.

she. “Enemy Spirits, Come to finish my fate Nothing you do Can cause me to dissipate I am forever I am EVER, For and Ever I am Always, Now and Then I am of the gods My gods, your gods and theirs Make mincemeat of your decisions Deal you heartbreak, make u have care She’s… Read More she.

the use for veils.

  Up a staircase Winding round I say nothing Eyes Wide Down Powdered footsteps Open like gravel road U say nothing No breaking the moment’s hold Asbestos powdercase Eyelashes by Mold We touch fingertips Sudden. Bold. Crunchy black taffeta Shiny Patent Waste Bodies; barely bent! Still not visible-Our Haste In & Out, Up & Down… Read More the use for veils.

bloodlust.

I want your blood Like I want your sex I wish we’d fuck Like we never met I want your taste Copper-burnt but sweet I want your brains Tongue inside your meat Spread it ‘round like goo Dripping from the tip Lap it up, all fours! Yeah I am that bitch This is not for… Read More bloodlust.

Private Life

In the Darkness of beginning night, The confusion of what should be, I gave him my little black heart, Then I gave him my little jewel; perfection like one from Tiffanys! When alone now, I can hear his voice When alone I can feel his touch His perfume comes out of my throat His decorum… Read More Private Life

Les Amants des Morte

*disclaimer – naughty words and heavy sexual connotation; also, an original poem from me to an ex lover* Everytime we fuck, I die, Lovers of Death, you and I Make-believers in fate, you and me Troublemakers connected; destiny! Little Death, Oxycontin, Dopamine When together, even the Heavens stop for our scene, Memnoch the Devil, Dionysis… Read More Les Amants des Morte

~Untitled~

  I’m in a phenomenal place There is no sound, no feeling, no smell or taste It is the Darkness~the Soulless Pit, the Abyss! How could you not know, however could it be missed? This is the reality, finalized and discovered~You know me, now! This is the Darkness, the place where nightmares play, unbound This… Read More ~Untitled~

Cosmos

Originally posted on The Anarchic Neuron:
Your space is there, but somehow you are here, mopping the floors of their amber tint with a salt-rimmed cocktail of shoe polish and sweat. You know you are not the first. ? Those ghosts smell of the rectangular shades that eat at the dusty brown paint, the fingers melted…

During the Coup

Originally posted on The Anarchic Neuron:
In the pews, boiling headless roosters. Cornea kicked out in visionary scuffles, those glass-stained mosaic cockfights. ? Today, I’ve come in my cloudless best, shadows sewn in wet petticoats, drowned retina, lambskin, by ladles for hands. ? Did you hear that His cerebrospinal fluid clucks limply while it boils…