This savage feeling for you








Driving me mad

Making me incoherent

This thing I feel

This is violent



You would perhaps think that I am someone who you can learn from.  That I know things others do not.  That I am the bearer of some knowledge in an ancient urn that only I can open.

I am not.

Perhaps I will recite a parable to teach you right from wrong.  You may sit in rapt attention with your face turned up towards the sky.  The sun might dapple your skin in a myriad of light that hurts me to look at.

Or I won’t.

You would perhaps dream that I love you.  That my body entwines with yours when no one is looking.  That I will stare into your eyes and say I am yours.  That my sighs will contain only your name.

They will not.

Perhaps I will hurt you.  Wound you with my sadistic words.  Eloquently break you with my prose as you lament the pain.  Smile slyly when your tears fall on my pillow as you lay on my bed.

I will.

So perhaps you should run.  Find a place to hide that does not fall within my sights.  Sleep with a gun in your hand and one eye open.  Research ways to kill without being caught.  Decide how I will die.

You should.

Perhaps this will be futile.  Your efforts to escape my clutches will be ineffective.  Your heart will betray you as it floats into my greedy hands.  You will not notice until much too late that I am the one who possesses you.



Peel me
Like a banana
An orange
A kiwi
Some multi-colored fruit
My skin is tough
It may be sour if your
Tongue flicks out to taste me
But underneath
That is where my sweetness hides
Even as I ask for the kindness
Of your gentle fingers
Tugging at my tightly woven sheath
I envisage this attempt to expose
Will be nothing but a serrated knife
Cutting deep inside me
For you have no patience
And you are greedy


It was this
It was that
It was those
It was things
It was there
It was thrills
It was throbs
It was more than
It was thankful
It was thoughtful
It was theoretic
It was theatrical
It was thirsty
It was thawed
It was thwarted
It was thievery
It was threadbare
It was threats
It was thrown
It was through
It was then
And I am alone


This alabaster scape blinds me
Renders my eyes ineffectual
My pace is sluggish as the icy flurry
It encompasses my being and creates a reality where there is only me
And the clamor of my ruminations
This ideation of amorous passions leaving a memorialized view of what was
And a taste of bitter contrition in this mouth that once uttered discourses
That this fatuous woman conceived to be truth
This wintry world
It numbs me
And congeals your name on my lips
So that it is able to tumble to the ground where it is camouflaged by the snow
Lost to me
And I do not recall how it used to sound when I whispered it in your ear
I cry glacial tears
As I endeavor to make a snow angel
Knowing that this frozen terrain will soon soothe me to sleep
Where I wish with all my might
That I shall not dream


Keyboard strokes sound like rain
This endless typing
It taxes me
Attempts for my fingertips
To sing out my whimsical narrative
The bend of my wrists ensuring me
That I am fabricating another cosmos
An ethereal creation where beauty…
Ah god this beauty!
It makes your eyes cloud with tears
And your heart fill with wonder
As you reach to touch the gossamer wings
Of the fairies that flit about
Your tiffany breaths
I pause to rest and am filled with remorse
To realize that to stop means this world
It dissipates quickly when my keystokes cease
I furiously begin to type again
Only to find the futility
Of attempting to bring into being
That which does not exist

These Tears

These tears

They make me angry

Make me want to give myself a lecture

About the uselessness of sorrow

Tell myself that this saltiness

Only tastes good on fried foods

And popcorn

My tears make me feel weak

They make me wish for invincibility

They make me wish for you

That desire makes me furious

I want to shake myself

Tell myself I am being ridiculous

But instead I let them fall

And watch them collect on my lap

On my cheeks

In my heart

These tears

They shall be the death of this pain

Or at least I can wish for that

As I cry

Like a child without his favorite blanket

Or a clown without his smile

These tears will make me strong

Or at least that is what I tell myself

As I cry and wish

For sleep

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