Orchids

These petals are too naïve,
I can’t seem to manipulate them;
they don’t understand the crucial need-
Of curtains;

They glisten, as they would,
If nothing but the moonlight were left-
And ask me,
Why I hide;

…the spotlight haunts me again,
Just sharper, this time.

It’s not the question that hurts-
just this paranoia…
clutches my roots
and leaves me indifferent, to truth;

So I smirk…
Let those weak contortions pull me down,
and rip that veil, naked-
to stand in the sunrise;

I’ll let it be…for now;
These orchids are painless-
I can save these twisted crimsons
for other eyes;

Pregnant Chickens

I sipped upon your creative juices,
and drowned, another finger,
into that gory darkness
of thought;

these canopies breathe softly,
as I curl my fingers
and straighten my eyelids
to take another nap;

Yet that dying fetus haunts me-
it’s misted face still echoes
as an unwanted ultrasound,
of bubbling cysts;

I tried murder,
yet the spirals scream:
in this pregnant mind-
and refuse;

So deal with me-
You’re mine.

You’re born
...and yet-
never alive;

I'm their hero;

I aped that rattle snake-
It’s slow, eccentric hiss,
and that proud cape
of music…

Swept the feet of dust,
As those rustles of sandpaper-
bit my ears-
kissed my spine…

and the venom led
another slippery prey
to the ceramic confines
of a plate;

- I shivered like your daffodils,
just with a little more wind;
and shot at the sun,
with fireflies;

Yet these cliffs are no longer tall enough-
they’ve eroded, and I’ve grown-
I couldn’t wait for them
anymore;

Thus, ecdysis...
and the hidden cocoons-
where I shed another life,
sinned, once again;

And fell open,like your eggs;

…this desert makes me sweat,
It’s a good teacher, I would say-
Yet somehow I miss England,
and the daisies;

these serpents still think,
I'm their hero;

I wonder.

The Paralysis

I tried to convince-
the paralysis
but it needed me- now-
like I had needed it;

So we embraced,
and hummed those tunes
unknowing;
in that castle of sticks.

And I held on
to that flickering torch
with iced fingers;

Those hyenas are still cackling,
they find it funny, don’t they?
It’s falling though…it’s falling-
You can hear it scream;

This glasshouse is blooming-
and so is time;
yet the plastic skins hold me
…they’re the cheapest.

I whisper another requiem-
before these pentacles abandon their blessings,
and the darkness gets tired of hiding-
my precious light;

Then I’ll look for another home,
and I’ll write for you, again-
as long as the voices are low,
and the audience incognitus;

Let’s whistle another symphony,
Until the crowd dies.

Vinegar

It stuck to her lips- ethanol;
Seeping through those crevices-
wax-painted , yet supple, soft;
Like the rest of her.

Those droplets still dangled,
Wavering- clenching;
the bitter doses
and their vibgyor spirals- spun;

these voices needed to be hushed-
so we decided to use a cigarette,
to burn our souls
…and hide behind the smoke;

Now it was just us,
those anaerobic strings of air,-spinning,
the shadows slipping, across the walls-
those rays of light softly reflecting
…from her thighs;

Her fingers trembled,
Skin on skin- and fermentation-
She stung; like vinegar,
that promise of toxic sweetness still lingered;

So we drove on, like empty vessels-
Trying.
Yet it didn’t exist.

Ultrasounds;

Let’s weave our hands together-
Please.
It’s been long since I,
touched skin.

Those curled shoulders,
have twisted my spine-
It’s disgraceful to sit-
so still.

And those voices still feed me ideas,
that slither through those bedsheets -
arching, swimming through- hunting-
for a fragment that still cares…

They fail, of course-
those blackboards are clean and tasteless…
words don’t tie them anymore,
with any meanings;

We’ll name it anarchy,
just to hush that explosion of boiling kerosene
…those brainstorms of inspiration-
and exocytosis;

It’s the prompts that hold me back-
those aroused serpents of the past, hissing, warning-
against another crooked hurricane
of feeling.

Yet these embryos fail to vanish
…and I keep searching for
Another abortion.

Kaleidoscope

I've crept into that dusted attic
...asked the cockroaches, for time-
their homes wouldn't be hurt, I promised-
It's just a corner I need;

I drew another pentagram,
and sought in those chalked lines
another form of protection-
safer than the blankets.

...and fought those crumbs of earth,
that flew around a little too gaily-
in that dreaded beam of light;

I've been cursed with a prism, you know-
it's just a bit too much of light, at first,
for eyes that see more-
than there ever will be;

Then it shatters,
…like the rainbow,
to the same old mediocris-
the ordinary;

Yet the roaches never leave me-
and I like them too.

Conception

We wasted another afternoon,
Shifting angles, and eyesights
A thousand glittering bulbs-
And microscopic perception

His flickering eyebrow,
And the violent whisper-
Of a distant guitar string Roaring,
another outcry

The redundant shadow,
Of a checkmark,
And the smell of pasing time-
with the cigarette smoke

... the pain of pronunciation;
If only words weren't so difficult;

Yet, beyond the haze-
a deviant spark
And the insipid conception,
Of twenty-two million parts of you

Let's all be artists.

I painted another branch-
Chocolate;
Yet it didn’t matter…
It was all brown, anyway;

Those diamonds still glistened-
Prismatic;
Sheltered, ‘neath that kind willow
and my branches.

I tried to be an artist,
Yet somehow,
I failed;

So forgive me.

I’ll stare at the canvas, for another day,
Or another year-
And grab some inspiration,
Like everybody else does.

Then I’ll paint you,
I promise.

Aerosol

His trembling breath,
And the lingering fumes of ethanol
Ironing every nanometer of my skin;
You would've thought it's love-
Since you had not heard my heartbeat...

Distorting strands of satin,
Ruffling and spreading,
Swaying against the curve of my back,
And the twist of his naked arm-
Obeying...soundlessly; murderously.

An explosion of sound waves,
That carried his soft laughter,
Clattering the long forgotten sheds
With raging beams of light...
And a knowing smile.

Those eyes almost made you believe,
That happiness existed,
Suffering is amusement-
And for a moment it was...
For a moment, it did.

But it soon tenderly collapsed,
With a sting of violent pleasure,
And the echo of a joyous breath;
The constant acceleration,
Needed to hit a stone wall

And now there are just these silent words,
Nestling on your armchair,
Enveloping the thunder in his eyes,
And the measly poison
Of a distant gunshot.

It's a wrought of aerosol,
You call it freedom;
I've named it death..
And we're both left with nothing,
But breathing and suffocation..

Impressions Of Being Alive

Her toes trembled;
curled,and fumbled-
the moss was brumal
yet softened, fused
...with fallen dewdrops...

The leaves bowed,
and quivered;
their cyan shadows, voltaic;
resting upon her cheekbones,
-unresistingly, quietly.

...and the sunset kissed her lips-once more,
before adieu.

But she didn't know
...yet.

Moonlight was not as kind,
the shadows were wild,
the wind cold, and stagnant,
the voices shrill;
and laughing.

... twilight had lost it's innocence, already;
glaring, and weakening-now,
like the frightening burden
of a spotlight.

So I held her,
and she knew then,
I was there-
always.

But she didn't understand;
...even when I told her
I love her;

She was dearest,
yet she didn't listen,
she was mine,
she had to know.


So I told her.
And left those impressions, of being alive,
Of being-
Her master.


Her toes trembled;
curled,and fumbled- and stopped;
the moss was brumal
yet softened, fused
...with fallen dewdrops...
and inklings of blood.

Paraphilia

Her unflinching eyelids cautiously sewed together-
yet I could almost feel those eyes squirm; moan;
...pulling my heartstrings, with her eyelashes, demanding, me-
to come a little closer...

So I did.

Alabastrite,
that translucent sheath, stretched-
over a billion parts of her
I could never touch;

Yet amaranthine, her lips-
daring me, to another sip of insanity-
encapsulated within those honeyed drops of black-magic,
Circe, I called her, enchanted...

And obeyed;

As those amber dreadlocks bound my flesh-
enslaving my skin to another disorder...
yet I let that beastly hypnotism, carve my path
-to bliss

Her torpid stillness,
and that yonder hiss, a warning;
...it didn't last long, a moment, I guess-
till her perfume crept to my nostrils...

and reality became another haze,
evanescing- swiftly,
abandoning me, with nothing-
but her.

She still lays, where I first met her...
but her tombstone, is getting old-
and her coffin too big,
for just her bones.

…yet those labyrinthine ropes still hold me,
and I'll surrender again,
tonight;
she has a little sister, you know.

...

My love;
Do I dare drop another shrouded truth upon your eardrum...?
I left another footprint today, you know...
but those granules of concrete are still hollow, still quiet;

I've hidden behind your golden dreadlocks too often,
and heard your contemptuous laughter echo,
the crooked whistle of another gunshot
piercing the silence, and a silhouette,
-of course.

...yet I can't let go.

You're so young, I tell myself;
Your bedsheets are still crisp, still odorless;
...this sleep does not trouble you, does it?
-with her kissing nightmares.

And I dread my toes slipping-
into that cadencing abyss,
...the scattered doom
of my growing death wish;

there's no one to hold me,
but you.

The pillowcases still hiss...
their fingers clench my hair, often;
and threads tie me to a new paranoia
every night.

And I know
these windows aren't clean...
they disgust me;
yet they're my only source of light,
and I choose to compromise;

It's left me with nothing,
but your rusted blood on my tongue
and these shadows formed on the wall,
by your electric blue flesh...

I'm tired, dearest...
your fumbling silence hurts me-
maybe another drop of heroin,
will bring you back to life.

White Lies

A farce,
you called it;
Yet that glimpse of silence said it all,
in another cachinnation;

Could you not sweep past those dreadlocks?
Or were those morsels of ethanol not clear enough
-to reflect your lies;

...maybe it was just the smoke,
that hid away those precious inklings
- missing jigsaw pieces
of perfection.

Or is it alcohol's secret?
The heartstrings of it's perfume.
neatly coiled and ribknit
to plan another deception....

I don't know.

So I 'll sit by this window and crawl through another chasm,
cleaning those bloodied wounds with whiskey,
-your midnight regrets
and mine.

...maybe it's just water we need,
to show us the truth;

Yet I'd trade it,
for another drop of that ethylic lie.

Cicisbeo

“Cicisbeo”
you said;

And knew the squirming torment you'd darted;
Yet I chose to watch the quivers in my spine-
neatly reflect in your irises,
with those motions of a tainted smirk;

Five inches of smoldering paper-
Your fingers and 900 degrees,
The absence of light-
in clever patches...

They were just streaks of gray smoke
fiddling with my nostrils
yet the silly numbness,
... the electrocuted pulse;
(Why?!)

Then, I knew.

Amalgamating with the exhilarating touch
Of Damascus steel,
twisted against my rib cage-
I gasped, in open horror and slithering nightmares

Yet polite- almost innocent;
your perfume coaxed me...
“A little to the left, my love.”
Naming this new found death wish, I smiled.

Another perfect drop of chocolate smeared,
Those velvet chromes, flying;
“Cicisbeo”, you said,
In a whisper;

Then, smiled.

“Si... Carissima.”, I gasped.
as frequency waves reconciled with thought-
synchronized, with your growing amusement and my fading illusion,
- creeping quietly upon my spine, and frowning;

... those nano-structures of carbon, fine metal and pearlite matrices-
incarnadino; contorting and squirming through a net of veins and shifting a few paces
with the ruthless convulsions of your wrist, and the aid of those ancient Indians...
You stole another soul.

“Did I taste sweet, dearest?...Bitter? I see.”
In any case,
I'll see you in hell.

Concupiscientia

Vicious, they say,
desire twisting:
to necessity.
Yet- I laughed.

And smirked, amused;
watching your hand, gently-
slowly, rustling against
her skin.

Your fingerprints
breathing against her dainty shoulders,
and the dwindling shivers
darting through her spine...

Aphrodisia,
Or so it seemed.

Everyone needs heroes once in a while,
this time, you seemed to fit.
But you don't want this, do you?
You don't want her.

You need more than
those stammering shirtcloths
and head of nacre curls
to hide from me.

Those veils are not easy to lift, are they?
Yet, I did.
Impossible,
-except in bed.

… to know concupiscientia:
you're mine, and only mine.
And you'll surrender,
whenever I please-

If only you could touch my skin,
or tear apart that shirt...
but I'll smile for now,
my love.

I know
the darkest
Dearest;
But you're safe;

You'll be home tonight,
...I know.
We'll be boys again,
chasing cars;

Concubinus,
they would've called me
Yet I'm Isaac, as you say,
and I will laugh.

...so shall you.

Compromise

It still pricks my fingertips
But my thread refuses to work without the threat of a needle,
So let me weave my pain, as it's fear
And sew that button;

I'll bind it with it's holes,
And let the fluidity of grey matter, be replaced-
The strength over a weakness and his chain of cotton fibre;
Let's sew that button.

But let me ask God first,
He might do it instead.

Envy

Her fingerprints-
the withering sheets;
A livid haze
and amaranth;

A twisted arm,
A smirking face-
A tired moan
Slithering by;

Acrophobic,
Yet there I stood-
The anfractuous height,
And another spasm;

It was her skin,
Betwixt his lips
But I can't complain-
It wasn't my night, was it?

Who am I to?
I'll pay her, like he did;
And wait for tomorrow-
“Eleven-thirty, dearest.” she said.

And I sneered at those fragments of limestone,
That knew her more than I could;

Lust

Aphrodisia;
Her shivering moan
-the slow absconding air
...squirming skin;

An upthrust of libido-
Pulsations of writhing egos
Throbbing monoxide
Slithering through toxic veins

Screaming twilight
Poisoned lips;
Another home-
betwixt her teeth

A vicious secret;
Of warm susurruses,
Late night wines
And knowing smirks;

And she'll be good,
Maybe I'll have another night;
Between her breasts,
-and mine.

Wrath

A distortion;
A convulsing heatwave
His silken coat-
and raw eyes;

His temple
And that throbbing vein-
..hiding; obeying-
an unyielding smile

Oppress a paroxysm-
to close his eyes;
Another battling haul
-to the leash of his breath

A quivering labyrinth
Of sight, of sound;
The odious impression
Of another minute; another face;

The sweet monoxide
Clawing his heartstrings
...the buoyant urgency-
The hypnotic wrath

And another scream-
An enclosing ring of bedlam...
The sight of shining metal-
that neatly sculptured knife.

Pride

She purses her eyelids
In contorted vain
Of perfect truths-
And deviant reason;

A coil of burning paper-
Amid amaranthine lips
Streaks of dancing smoke
And smiles of stiffened narcissism

Another wasted eyelash
Or thread of carbon soot-
And streaks of carnauba
to form her torpid smile;

Perfumed fingers
And dainty wrists
Those glistening rocks
An efflux of sarcasm; sneer;

Another ostentatious laugh
A coughing huddle
And the tossing of raven curls-
that ardent smell of pride.

A dying mirror...
And yet, that hairbrush, that eyeshadow;

Greed

With reluctant, fumbling feet,
A heart of awkward guilt,
She let her mother's virtue
Take over her own;

She had knelt by that wishing well,
And quietly dropped a dime-
her hands hesitant
With the weakness of faith

She watched it hit a brick,
then abscond into a sightless silence
It's armour no more shining
Or serving any light;

She knew then,
That she would get not another-
to replace the wasteful greed,
And the death of a value

Then, a faint echo of it's funeral,
Struck; like an overknowing laugh-
It's discorded abruptness- despair-
Of being worth a whole dime...

and yet not snuggled in the warmth of a woolen pocket
And yet, to be doomed to the darkened, torpid, stillness of this shrine...

Gluttony

He surrendered to an open plea,
The poignant lustful aroma-
and the torment of a grumbling stomach
Aphrodisia, it seemed;

The acute tremors in his calves
And the reclusive sight...a few crumbs;
those daintily spread napkins-
And the arousing fumes of butter

Another penny;
All he needed was
...another penny,

While they sat in their symposiums
And sneered at his eagerness-
“Gluttony”, they said,
“Sin.”

He watched the cardinal wine,
Trickling down the corner of their lips;wasted-
...in stains of laughter
-the sardonic smiles

Sloth

And there she hid-
An anomalous recluse;
Abstruse, abstract...
An absolution.

The tranquil diffusion
Of curving membranes
Marble beds- cold,
And nacre stratum;

The scarlet smoke
And healing twilight,
The sanctity of his arms-
and trembling warm breath

His whispering voice
The cyan quivers-
The gold horizon...
-just in reach;

But a circuitous shriek
And writhing spiral, leading,
to the concrete explosion-
Of naked reality.

A Monday-morning blue
And the shivering alarm clock;
The angry stroke, of a gangling arm-
An evasion-

His embrace-
Her superficial truth,
The illusion of happiness-
Dearest;

And a quiet return, to sin,
To sloth.

Wrought

I blink;
For a moment:
My eyelids hide your face

It's not blood;
That nectar,
It's nitroglycerin.

And don't fall,
Not yet.
We still have time to live.

Yes Dearest;
It is my skin
Betwixt your teeth:
Your impressions of being alive.

The illusion has faded;
It is raw reality.

Just the strength
Of our gaze;
The quiver of our bodies
... the beat of throbbing hearts.

For your fingerprints:
Shall embrace
My cruel intentions
And take my vicious pleasure
To Satan.

And yes dearest:
Hell doesn't matter;
It's just your skin
Betwixt my teeth:
Making impressions of being alive.

No. Don't look away;
Not Yet.
We still have time to live.

Feel the pain?
A single bullet,
A single moment;
...the gunpowder in your veins,
The air escaping your lips?
Gasp.

Feel the pleasure?
A single bullet,
A single moment;
...the gunpowder in your veins,
The air escaping your lips?
Fall into the sky.

The sky is ours, darling,
Be careful with your feet.

Fall, in Grace.

He fell a fleet of stairs ,
Diving through the cyan mist-
Then, I knew what God felt
for his fallen angel;

To watch another crevice in his wings
And the strength of his broken fingers-
Rending through the sky
Yet cacophonous; yet proud.

His contorting silhouette,
The unwelcoming darkness of a chasm
dragging down the azure haze; wasted;
... yet to know he's mine.

With the first blow of Earth
His skull against that dreaded rock,
The screeching violence in his laughter;
...and the vermilion smoke diffusing his irises

I knew what Lucifer felt,
As God let him fall.

Mirrors

The mirrors,
they were initially-
Good;

But time, you see,
It's only a matter of time-
Until, those shadows gobble up
Another flimsy image-

Rend another shroud,
Of withering skin,
Freckles; and my flattened nose-
with the hints of a skeleton;

Or creep upon
Another lucid hieroglyph
Squirming within
Stratified epithelium

Fifteen years ago, you see,
I wouldn't have thought,
I couldn't have thought-
Of such horror-

… within my very own reflection;

The mirrors,
they were, initially-
Good; to me,
And now they're perfect.

You said time heals, isn't it?