Obliterater

O how I want to peel your skin off and wear it like a shroud. I want to pop your eyes in my mouth like marbles. I want to spit your blood into secret language patterns on the sidewalk that only the two of us will understand. I want you like only lovers want death; hot, sticky and seeping into the dirty mattress beneath us. I want to rattle your teeth around like gambler's dice. I want to bury you in my crawl space. I want the bugs to whisper in your bloody ears. I want the worms to make a home in your empty skull. I want to make a shrine out of your shining heart filled up all hollow with flickering candles. I want to be your voodoo poet. I want to use your body to write my greatest and most violent art. I want to make musical instruments from your thigh bones. I want to make a bowl from your hips. I want your muscles stretched out for strings to pluck as the night turns starless. I want to plant your genitals deep in my garden beneath a big rose bush. I want your body spread over the ground so I can pick up the chunks and sew you back together all crooked. I want your lips sealed in a great glass jar set up on the highest shelf. I want your fingers under my pillows so I can sleep close to you every night. I want to eat you for breakfast every day and throw you back up every night. I want your body miles from the place you called home where you can only be mine in the face of a cripple dawn down in my deep dark hole. I want them to never find your body. I want tears to be the only time your name is ever uttered again. I want your love cut into little pieces all around me. I want you as only a obliterater in love can.

Black Tequila and Blood

You seem to have taken issue with my ability to find purity in violence. I care very little for your religious guilt that still seems to be rattling around in your head long after you should have put it to sleep. I understand the beauty in nude skin bruised by my own hand. I see scars as a form of love.

A little blood, a little black magic, a third of a cup of tequila and suddenly the world is spinning. Swimming through my head like falling stars all swallowed up and burning through my stomach lining. You should come back to me, bright eyes.

I say we go out dancing tonight. Put on your best jacket and I'll wear something much too revealing. We can go crane necks until they snap. We can let the music pry our eardrums open. We can whirl about like spinning dervishes and husha! husha! we all fall down!

Come on, you little fool! Stop letting your fear hold you back! Come run with me. Come sing with me. Come burn with me!

Come take a taste of my liquored witchy black heart and let the world be enough...

The Night You Gave Me a Name

We sat on my porch over looking the alley in the dark with only the sickly orange of the street lights illuminating our faces. I lit the pipe in my hands inhaling the hot smoke waiting for the druggy effects to leaden my limbs just a little. As I passed the pipe to him he said, "Maybe we should get naked and roll around under the covers for a while." He took a deep drag, coughed and sputtered, "I think I'd like to run my hands over you."

I let the cloud of smoke I had been holding in my lungs out in one large huff staring at his face in the dim light. It was too cold really to be sitting out there in nothing but my underwear and a t-shirt with the nearly-winter creeping in but I huddled in on myself feeling suddenly hungry and just a little bit horny. "I guess I've heard worse ideas," I said watching the flash of a bat swooping into the edge of the light.

My eyelids grew heavy. "You know," I started suddenly feeling a tangent growing,"I've sat out here on nights when my belly was so full of worry I thought it might split open. I've paced these boards when I couldn't get my ideas to come together and the keyboard seemed to be more of a torture device than a instrument of knowledge. I've watched the local scavengers troll the garbage cans for smelly cashes of easy money from my perch over this alley. I made friends with the junkie hooker who lives down the street and comes to feed the stray cats everyday. Some days this few feet of space on the side of this building will be the only time I step outside of my apartment. On those days I just can't handle the world and the people milling through it. I don't bring many people up here."

He smiled a little looking at me like I was some sort of alien. I was sure I was about to get a laundry list of my more unattractive traits so I stood. I stripped my top off letting the cold air turn my flesh to goosebumps as I walked past him to the railing at the edge of the platform. My neighbors would have a clear view of my semi-nudity, as would anyone walking the road below, but at 3 in the morning very little life stirred around us. For a moment you could believe that your were alone and that the city wasn't crammed to the brim with people. The wind turned my nipples hard as I crossed my arms over my now bare chest. I sighed, twisted my face into the wind as my hair streamed behind me and waited for him to wrap his arms around me. I thought to myself, "Really... what would the winter be without at least a little heartbreak?"

A Heart Is a Sinking Ship

Even in the rain I can find your shadow and stand in it as you list off my unpleasant qualities in a fit of love. This is an iron heart with rivets of gold shining in the dark. The rain may turn all to a rust colour but if you look beyond that I might just be glittering under the edge of the covers with my arms wrapped around your chest. Your blinding yourself before the dawn even comes with something choking what could have been suffering in goodness.

I have been twisting under these clouds pressing down on me. I would take you back to those golden fields I came from so long ago to run down the hills of dust and crickets far from this damp city squashing a wildness I once had. I still hear wind rushing through the pine trees calling my name as the moths came to dance against the window frame every night. I want to add your name to my dry and cracking desert lips. Take you from here; let the sun write a new message in intricate tongues on the edge of the river bed in sight of a violet forever even for a little fleeting while... but you are pushing. Away and up never even letting it happen in the dark of the night.

I have drowned myself in the oceans throwing themselves up against the city walls. I have run through wet tree branches and felt the sting shock me back to the world. I have let the sand burn between my toes standing naked as the sun set. I have felt the waves lap at my breasts as I searched for sharks freezing in the deep. The ships took my soul to sea and left it there. You swam out to them and maybe you saw it there but you never brought it back.

I have held the broken in my arms setting them free and hoped they'd come back to me. Every night I open up the windows and let the rain in. I ask the rain 'Where have you been? Have you seen them? Are they coming back to me?" But the rain only drums cryptic answers against my skin dragging me further into this darkening landscape. My questions remain unanswered and I drag my grandmother's quilts out to sing her song under the canopy of this city so far from home with stars blacked out like missing teeth.

I think I'll set fire to this sinking ship and see if it can burn in the rain. I had my eyes all boarded up before you came around and ripped the nails out. Maybe I can make a raft out of the left over planks. Maybe I can set those on fire too. I want to know if a heart all flame can illuminate the darkness down by the ocean so I can see my way. So I can follow those burning ships into the night and sink myself below the waves to a kingdom of floating seaweed and dashing seals where I can drown much better than in these small increments in which I am drowning in your rainy shadow.

Fuselage

There are steel girders in my chest holding up the rusting fuselage of my heart. It creaks ominously when it takes unsteady flight every time I cross the threshold of night into your tentative arms. Is it strong drink and heavily lidded eyes that drive you to pull me down to your side or has something shifted to a shaky place in the glare of the overhead lights?

They are laughing. Cackling through the walls, giggling at us in a teasing way before returning to the wine bottles scattered over the table. The conversation turns heated unnoticed by you as your breath turns soft. Drifting as your fingers drift to the place where my shirt meets my pants and the skin shines through.

Soon the drink does its heavy work and sleep takes you over. I, however, stand to take my fuselage out into the night to see if I can start uneasy flight to the cold moon on a clear fall's frigid wind. The cockpit is filling with smoke and the wings are flying apart but I move forward anyways. I stretch my arms out and flap. Start running down the street. Just a little faster and I can get my heart off the ground.

Sex and frustration make strange bedfellows with night coming down like a curtain to make hearts in stumbling flight lose their way in the dark. They say all you got to do to fly is throw yourself at the ground and miss. The only trouble being that no matter how hard I try I just can't seem to avoid the ground rushing up to meet my face.

Ruthless

It was all just a dream but somebody needs to die for it.

Nevermind

You have cured me of my wanting.

Teenage Graces

There were two things I liked when I was 15; the boy next door and cigarettes. We would wander down the sun-dabbled back road under a canopy of birch trees inhaling forbidden acrid smoke into our lungs and stealing shy glances. I knew my mother would ream me out if she caught me smoking but the illicitness of the activity was half of the fun. The thrill of a secreted pack of cigarettes in my jean jacket pocket as I came home from school only added to my teenage illusion of rebellion.

The Indian summer wind would rustle the tree leaves sending the shadows dancing over our skin. We were too shy to hold hands but shared a cigarette back and forth akin in our social transgression. The sun would make his black hair shine glossy as it draped over his face hiding his dark eyes.

Some days when school let out, after the dusty bus ride down the long country road, we would sneak behind the shed with a lighter and the menthol cigarettes I spirited from my grandmother's purse as she busied herself in the other room. The thick, sticky sweet smoke would linger in my throat as I tried not to cough to maintain my air of rebel girl coolness. "I am a cool girl." I thought to myself. "I read heavy metal magazines. I smoke cigarettes. I want a tattoo. I dyed my hair black." But I knew it was hard to be a teenage rebel when you lived in a farm town of 700 people and the craziest thing you could do was drink yourself stupid on a weekend in front of a bonfire as the local boys started fights with each other.

I wanted a switch blade. I wanted a leather jacket. I wanted to stand on the corner in LA and score heroin. I wanted to be a character out of a movie or one of the books I read. I wanted to be a greaser. I wanted to be a rock star. I wanted to be dark hero. But what I really wanted was to have my 15 year old crush realize just how cool I was and lean over to kiss me behind the shed.

I wanted him to hold my hand down the school hallway. I wanted that stupid teenage grin the popular girl and her jock boyfriend always had when they made-out by the lockers. Instead I was the strange girl. The smart girl. The girl from a poor family. The girl who wore thrift store fashions and whose dad would pick her up in a beat up old truck. And behind that shed we never kissed. Only shared one cigarette planning our escape from this place if only we could just grow up a little faster and be just a little bit cooler.

The New Culture

They carry on with some form of homoerotic groping on the dance floor, sliding against each other. All lips and tongues and gliding fingers. I sit in the corner snapping my gum. I wonder how hard it would be to slip myself in the middle of that. I wonder how far hands can multiply with the right kind of encouragement. I wonder what the fuck I'm doing here.

I make a decision and I get myself positioned just right, in the middle of this mingling mass of sweating flesh and darting eyes. I watch the crowd ebb and flow like a tide to the DJ's auditory masturbation. The crowd is working itself up; working itself down to the floor. Gyrating hips grind against me. Someone presses against my side and glides away. I let the flow take me over swaying to the thump. The beat. The vibrations welling up from the floor. I just want to be in the middle. I just want bodies welling up against me. I need some skin under my fingers, some hips under my hands and some lips on my neck. I need to be somewhere else.

He comes up behind me slipping his arms around my waist. He moves against me. Presses on with the bodies around us. Sways with me. Watches my hands flutter up and reach behind me. Kisses my palms as I slid my fingers over his cheeks and into his hair. I turn to him. Wrap my arms around my neck and reach my lips up to his ear. "You're an asshole. But you make me feel wanted." He slides his hands up my short skirt, clenching my ass cheeks, pulling me tightly to his chest.

He leans over me. Presses his mouth against my ear and breaths "That's all I ever wanted, little girl. Shut the fuck up and lets dance."

Night Falls on the Beast

"Why don't you just tell me what you're thinking?" he says in an exasperated huff.

"What? Do you want to hear that I often picture you naked? That I touch myself with a vision of you tied to my bed firmly planted in my mind? That sometimes I picture you dead? Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to rip your heart out and eat it? That I want to fuck you so bad that if physically hurts me to be near you? Yeah... you might not want to hear what I'm thinking."

I keep my eyes on the dark road ahead of us and push the accelerator closer to the floor of my great land beast. The car's engine purrs in recognition. I drag on my cigarette blowing the smoke into a cloud from my lips.

"Do you want me to be afraid of you?" he asks turning to the window.
"I want you to fear me, yes. But I want you to love me more."
"Why do you have to be like this?"
"I don't know. This is just how I am."

The beast slides into the corners with the smoothness of ripples on water. The wind cascades through the windows and throws his long hair into his eyes. He whips his head but the strands stay in place. I take one hand off the wheel and reach over to brush the hair from his face grazing his cheek with my fingertips. I linger for a moment savoring the warmth of his skin traveling up my arm. He takes my hand to his lips kissing it gently. I take my hand back quickly to return to clutching the wheel. I strain my hands against the leather focusing my eyes onto the yellow line speeding past the hood.

"If you choose this path with me there will be no stopping. No turning back." I say flicking the cigarette out the window. A quick shower of sparks flares behind us on the pavement and fades. "I'll show you where the darkness leads. There's something inside me. It's hard to explain."

"I think I want to love you. I want to tell you the things you don't want to hear." he whispers in my ear slipping his hand onto my leg. He glides it up my stomach, over my breasts to rest his palm against my heart. I take my eyes off the road for a split second to see the tears welling up in his.

"This isn't going to end well." I say clenching his hand tightly. I lean, I kiss him and push the car faster then it has ever gone into that dark distant horizon. I let the world burn behind us and watch the night fall on the beast.

Whisper Loudly

Why do you never hear me when I call your name?

The Corruption of Inspiration

It is so very easy to start but o' so hard to finish.

I Knew Right Then You Would Break My Dirty Heart

It's my blood and I will do with it as I wish. I will keep it all trapped and sloshing in bottles on the shelf if I want to. I'll drip it down your throat while you sleep tonight. I'll infect you with myself. I'll be under your skin, digging in, digging down. I'll make you hate me and forget me at the same time. I'll refuse to exist.

And suddenly, the Fall is calling my name. She says the Summer was all a dream my fevered mind was never willing to accept. "Did you ever really think he was falling in love with you? Did you ever really think that warm skin could touch your coldness, your ice exterior and not be repelled? What were you thinking girl? Were you thinking you could be happy... here... for just a moment? Stop deceiving yourself and come home." She touches the leaves of my tomato plants and they shrivel brown shivering in the damp air. The stalks wilt and the fruit rots. She turns her grey eyes to me and kisses my cheek. She rains down on me running her wet fingers through my hair. Come home, she says, come home.

And the blood is running down my thighs past my knees and pooling at my ankles. It's filling up my mouth and when I part my lips I can only speak in burbles and spit the ground all red. The dirt drinks me deep filling up the cracks in the landscape. The Fall calls me Rain taking my hand to lead me to soft Winter who has been waiting for me all year. Winter takes my precious bottles of blood and kisses them until ice crystals dance like tiny ballerinas against the glass. The Winter calls me Snow and I jump sending tiny droplets into air. He catches my hair in his fingers and smiles. He leaves trails of ice down my cheeks with his trembling hands kissing me until I can see my warm breath vaporizing to mingle with the mist. Come home, he says, come home now.

And you might wake up tomorrow with the strange taste of blood in your throat and wonder where the summer went. You might wonder about the cold place next to you and the strange perfume upon your pillows. You might bury your head in your arms and remember unusually cool skin on a hot summer night curled against you whispering something that sounded like a dirty confession of love. You might think you remember me but I've gone home with my dirty heart to the clean white snows of Winter's hands and the gentle caresses of Fall's windy tongue to calm myself of your summery lies, heated hands and golden skin.

I've gone home to my kingdom of ice and you can forget me now with this season that will always keep us apart.

DreamEyes

In my dreams, I am not human.

Undress Slowly for Me

I wish I could get you naked. It's my favorite state to see you in. Your skin glistening in the moonlight streaming down from the window. Your head tilting to the side caught in some far off dream; your fingers mindlessly dancing over my skin. I wish I could run my hands over you, catch the scent of you lingering on my sheets. I could use a gentle lover right now. Someone who understands the importance of slowness. Someone soft and relenting. I could use you if you would let me. I could use you.

Submit

You need to learn that perfection lies in your submission to me.

Bent to a Kiss in the Sand

I am watching you paint your hands black in the sand as your long hair falls over your eyes and your naked skin glistens in the sun. I am wondering if you will let me get close to you or dart just out of my reach like the stray cats I am trying to befriend in the alley. Every time I reach down to pet them, they twist just out of my fingers touch but secretly want my hands to stroke their shiny fur and warm bellies.

My mind keeps drifting back to you stretched across my bed with my hands running down your arms. All strength and muscles and hardened scar tissue reaching up over your emotions. Now, in this sun drenched place your eyes are heavy with the heat and slight intoxication. The waves wash the shore clean at our feet leaving bits of flotsam and jetsam to tell us a story of distant shores. There's a party going on somewhere in the background but I am all caught up in my mind too far gone to ever really be here. I'm thinking about your fluttering hands and wanting to brush the hair back from your eyes.

I have come to accept that I am the holy unwanted and have made a happy enough home in complete emptiness. I understand the importance of the alone and that we have been here before where you found my charms wanting. I understand my unattraction, my disease, my ugly distinction filling up the room with a palpable taste. I understand that I am the villain in this story. I understand my own inevitable dislocation out of your mind and spirit.

But I keep coming back to the vision of your eyes as the sun set and the moon rose. The rays caught in the depths of your irises; the scenery changing as we sat side by side, skin gently touching and fingers entangled. I heard your nervous laugh and settled against you in a moment of relenting to an unused sensory contraption. I have let touch pass me by for years, guarded my skin against errant fingers and suddenly I am finding I want to touch you. I want to feel your skin. It doesn't have to mean anything more but I want to feel your weight against me on this warm soft night of the urban wilderness dipping to the shoreline.

I just want to feel this for a little while to remember what it is to be human and to be loved before I slink off into my hardened winters where I shall let the ice creep over my heart in my frozen kingdom. I just want to touch you one last time before I lose all of this into an endless night cradling a dead heart. I just want to remember you and your golden skin under my fingers as the last light of the day slips away before I lose my soul to the stars of isolation and longing. I will stand under the cold moon thinking of you, not so very far away from me, and understand that tomorrow I will wake up alone with this space in me never really filling up and never really letting me go.

Naked on the Balcony in the Middle of the Night

The cigarette touches my lips as I inhale acrid smoke then let it curl around my head as I exhale into the night air. My thoughts are drifting to you as I watch the moon rise over the alleyway. I wonder if the stray cats are prowling through the overgrown yard across the street and how many of the sparrows they have killed. My head is filling with your face. With your lips. With the outline of your body stretched across my bed.

It's not love. It's something else. Something I can't define and have limited capacity to understand. I could hurt you and you would call me God. I could lay beside you as quiet as the dim sky curled against your side in languishing softness and you would call me lover. I could be running through the streets deep in shadow under the trees screaming for you and you would call me wolf. I could be nothing sitting in the dark like this forever and you could never even realize I was calling for you at all.

In this dark spot near my green plants and slowly dripping waters I am deep in thought caught in the currents of my unsettled mind. I came here to build a place I could be alone. Absolutely. Undiluted. A home built on emotion and a wariness of your gentle graces. But still your lips are somewhere out there and my name may be painted on them. I can not see you smile in all this beauty; this trap I held in my hands in times of desperation. I think I can feel you waiting as confused as I am. My skin still holds the memory of your body, your muscles sliding against mine, your cheek resting against my leg. Will you let this distance close or grow between us?

There is something out there in the dark pulling me to the night. It is kissing my skin with windy fingers whispering my name down on moon beams. I wonder if the neighbors will notice if I slip naked into the night, down the roof to the street below. Maybe I'll come tapping at your window so we can play a game out in the fields tonight. We can run short on breath and fear. We can be something animal, something beyond what these cities are trying to steal from us. We can be wild tumbling through the weeds chasing little animals in the dark. We can fall from trees and roll skin to skin down into the grass, lips locked to lips in a passion only the ocean will understand. We can be something free, something grand, something exciting, something unstoppable...

Then again, maybe I will just go find something to eat and see what's on TV...

Anything Better Than This

Sitting on the steps by the library she stares at the toes of her shoes while he darts his eyes around trying to find something interesting to rest them on. The darkness surrounds them, warm in the summer night. They sit close together but not touching. He wonders how to end this. How to tell her he'd rather be fucking her best friend, with the big tits and blonde hair, than her. How to tell her she's just too boring for his glorious plans. A big rock and roll star would never be caught dead with such a plain girl. A big rock and roll star would have dozens of girls with big tits and blonde hair dripping all over him. A big rock and roll star would be a sexual legend. She wonders what she did to earn his angry silence and how hard it would be to develop a drug habit.

She leans over and presses her lips against his. He doesn't open his mouth but kisses back through tight lips.

"We could go to the park?"
"Yeah... we could."

He pushes her into bathroom stall at the end of a dark park walkway. He bends her over the toilet and takes her from behind roughly pulling her head back by her hair. "A cunt's a cunt," he thinks and pictures her best friend's round ass bouncing over his cock. She gasps as he pushes against her twisting her head to the side. "Does sex always hurt this much?" she wonders in between thrusts, "Does it always feel this way?" It's not like the romance novels she reads. There's no soft kisses. No gentle caresses. No one telling her that they love her always. He pushes against her hard and she whimpers loudly. He takes it to mean she's enjoying her submission; thrusts harder grinding his hips into her ass. A few moments later it's all over, she can feel his satisfaction dripping down her leg.

Now sitting on a picnic table in the dark, he lights a cigarette not offering it to her. She shifts her ass trying to find a comfortable way to sit that doesn't aggravate the soreness between her legs.

"Do you love me?"
"Of course, baby. Of course. Don't be stupid." He pictures his cock between her best friend's tits feeling a twinge in his pants. She stares out over the water wishing for anything better than this, knowing in her heart that it won't ever come. The city lights shimmer indifferently and somewhere a dog barks, lonely in the night.

The Spirit Takes a Body

The Great and Holy Council sat on her ornate throne shifting her weight from one round, plump butt cheek to the other. She wore only shockingly red stilettos and fishnet stockings. Her ruby lips parted to let a slow whistle escape as the dancing hordes swirled around her platform. Her loyal followers all wore ornate masks painted with sneering grimaces that glinted in the flickering fire light as they pounded their feet to the rumbling drumbeat. Her personal guards flanked her sides, all rippling muscle and shiny with oil. The Great and Holy Council rested her delicately painted hands against her chest and rolled her eyes back in her head.

The Spirit took her suddenly, arching her back at a destructive angle and raising her out of her throne. Her head threw itself back and forth like a rag doll caught in a dog's mouth as the Spirit shock her body violently from her painted toes to her perfectly formed breasts. The Great and Holy Council screamed a holy scream and breathed fire out her lungs into the night. The horde trembled in silent awe, stopped in their tracks, as she rose above them. A light emanated from her filling the air with an electric crackle.

Every head in the vicinity filled with visions of pure love and hatred; pure pain and ecstasy, pure pleasure and discomfort. Emotion undiluted created a mist that all inhaled into their lungs and expelled from their skin. The Great and Holy Council shuddered and shrieked louder, her naked body pulsing with waves of energy that seemed to threaten to crack her body in half.

And at the very moment when it seemed she would be torn to pieces by the Spirit and every eardrum in the crowd would be exploded by her screams, the Spirit left her. She fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Her guards rushed to her side lifting her to unsteady feet. Her head lulled to the side, her eyes slowly coming to focus. Shaking to rid her self of the last druggy effects of the Spirit, she turned her attention to the hordes adjusting her perfect ass to a seductive position with a tilt of her hips on her stilettos. The hordes followed her movements with their hungry eyes, waiting for her to speak...

She parted her blessedly perfect ruby lips...

"Well then, now that that's over, let's eat."

The Great and Holy Counsel

I am the Great and Holy Counsel. Whether naked or not I am invited to the lives of others for sexual favors and long unedited stories. I am the collector of said stories and the dispenser of candy wisdoms. I can help you fix your life, read every facial emotion and still not repair my own broken dalliances in a world I still seem unfit to understand. I am the Fixer, open ears and all.

Come to the Healing. I will alleviate the damager and quicken your departure. I hear all. I see all. And I know where you are hiding those little ticking moments of truth faintly tinged in despair. When I plant that kiss on your forehead know I have done all I can and now absolve you of all crimes committed against my flesh loosing you upon the unexpecting world in my Holy name for all the criminal unfeeling masses to see. Carry my love and be forgiven.

The Devil I Know

Are you brought low by this holy hand? Have you clouded your eyes with stumbling visions? Are you too proud to understand what you are doing in the face of rippling distinctions? Are you trying to be a slivered version of me?

Be grateful for this delicate creature and all her gentle graces. Be humble for her dwelling in your house tonight. Pray for her quivering legs or know love is gone from this place. I know what it is to be truly alone. You could not suffer that fate and ever expect to survive.

Unwanted

I wish I could see myself reflected in your words, in your thoughts, in your art and in what you seem to like. My body feels unwanted. Thick. Dangerous. Shimmering on the edge of something important but ultimately wrong. In this I do not resonate within this devastating culture shedding its skin all over the floor of the world. I can not see myself in this mirror. I want to be in your eyes and carefully placed on your tongue like a catholic wafer waiting to be religiously swallowed in the dim light of your admiration. I want you to remove your complacency in this destructive behavior and understand what it is to be us; the hated and the devoured. So desperately needed and so violently shunned in the same motion. I want to be real and forget this unwant buried so deep inside me.

Bloodied

My thighs are slick in a rush of bright red blood. My femininity is dripping on the ground and pooling around my feet. He can never understand my comfort in the drips left behind on the white tiles as I slip from the kitchen to the bedroom. At the window, I watch the pregnant mother cat prowl down the alleyway stalking a flittery, fluttery host of sparrows as her belly drags on the ground. Soon the birds are to air in a chattering brown-specked mass as dainty spots of bird's blood drip from her quick mouth. She slinks to the bushes to devour her prey.

I turn my eyes on him. My brain all full of predatory love. He cringes in the face of the female rigor that stiffens my belly with unkempt want and forgetful desire. He does not understand what it means to bleed. To know the moon with such an intimacy as to wonder if she knows your thoughts and body like no other ever capable of touch. He knows no spark of life; how the potential always frightens you keeping your eyes stuck open on hot nights. He does not understand those hills I came from still calling me from all this distance and this city deadening my animal ways. When I turn he makes a small noise like a mouse caught in a trap and shakes himself free of my hands.

At the doorway he turns and says, "I can feel you slamming into me even with my back turned."

I sit folded in on myself with bloodied fingertips and unfocused eyes, "Then never turn your back on me and you will never have to know the nightmares I have been saving especially for you. Never turn your back on me and I will be your lover for all time. Never turn your back on me and I won't come howling for you in the night."

My femininity rips itself free and kisses him hard until blood trickles down his lips. I trap him under my knees and rear back with hair wild framing a wicked smile. I can taste him inside of me. I breath "I know all Truth in my feminine ways and have seen the destruction your kind has lain down. We will rewrite the world in our image and seal it all with a kiss. We are everything you have been dreaming of and I want your everlasting affection. Open your eyes." And in that moment the room filled with a blinding light as all good and all evil became one in the shining blood mingling between my thighs, running over his hands in a rush of sweet kisses and the spark of life now gone in the wink of a vanishing cat-like eye.

We Two in Repose at Dusk

All the dead are singing their beauty to you and you can not see your own. I can see it. I can see it in your fingertips dancing over the keyboard giving yourself life outside of our careful bounds near the edge of the water. Near the edge of the world we designed. In this we have seen creation and we have seen it pass. It almost was, surprising me with the significance it could have had in my already fluttering hands.

Rest your head against my leg, sighing with half-eyed contentment. I can see the smile creeping into your eyes as I run my hands down your chest pressing above your heart. Our beats are reflecting in mimic times, the world crippling, filling with the voiceless heat mongers out for a day's jaunt. Our skin speaking in a language of its own design. We are watching the day slip through our fingers amused at our own slick flesh. We are making this bed our home for a little while before the movements swallow us up, floating in our own safe directions.

I dream of your lips almost nightly. My fingers looped in your hair spread over the softly perfumed pillows as you shimmer between the sheets of a dangerously cool summer night. My hands run down your arms following trails of hardened muscle and harder scars with my mind bent on touching butterfly kisses to the inside of your thoughts. I make love with words. My eyes fail in the darkening night as I wait for my name to make it into your mouth. I am sugar. Honeyed in a deepening pool of amber where you now rest your fingers. I am a blooming god with heavy flesh lingering on your lips, just visiting for awhile. I like your name and want to eat it up. I want your hands to play their own game. I want our breath to mingle until new worlds form the horizon breaking the dawn into shatters so we can stay in the dark forever.

I want all of our beauty to be free in the world carefully lying down together in a tangle of limbs and teeth for these moments that we can allow to happen. I want our dreams on the edge of the world ready to jump. I want you and that is all you will ever need to know.

Two Hearts in One Chest

I am sitting here watching the night pool around the street lights and letting my thoughts drift to you. I probably shouldn't and I am worried that this feeling growing in my stomach is blooming into something much more significant than I feel capable of dealing with. Sleep has fled from me as the night is receding into the slivers of day. The slow lightening of the horizon is mirroring the fretting taking up my mind. I want to close my eyes but the possibility of another beating heart is deafening me. Chasing me from the edges of darkness into a blinding sunlight I want to keep away forever.

If I could only live in the night I would. I would let the darkness define me in blurry outlines and secret shadows chasing down the shining eyes of cat-like gods through the thickening wood. The knot in my stomach grows, twists, turns; starts dancing to mimic my racing thoughts stumbling around the block on their own merit, stopping to ask strangers for spare dimes. They won't let me sleep with their loud conversations about lost hearts and little fingers. I'm terrified of what might be happening and the decision I might have to make.

You are a crippler. You cripple hearts without even realizing it. You cripple bodies with an unnerving delight. You cripple minds through a sheer obliviousness to your surroundings and the affects you have on the already dead and dieing. You don't know what you have done.

I put my ear to the ground and listen very quietly. I am listening for another beat, afraid that it might actually be there. Afraid of what it will mean in the face of the awakening day. I close my eyes and two hearts beat in two different places in the same body. The dawn sings its indifference and I wander off to find something to eat.

Crippled by a Kiss

If you would let me I would kiss you until you exhaled only fire from your lungs and all your thoughts focused on skin against skin. I hope you are thinking of all those heated nights we spent together when your fingers sang all your language to me. When silken hair was a landscape unto its own with the world getting smaller and smaller with every breath. I have the Truth under my tongue and you should search it out with your own. Come here and find my secrets so I can tell you where I hid yours. Let my kiss mean everything and I will make you my little god for the night with my hands rippling your skin to forever. We can be cats, steal wishes into the night and love like a disaster just like we always should have.

You can finally remember my name as we tell a different story than all the ones we told before.

Bonefire of Vanity

I would like to watch you burn. I'll even bring the marshmallows.

Open Your Eyes

I may not be your dream but I am perfectly happy being your nightmare.

A Sliver of Touch

If there is one thing I can offer, it is comfort. My skin is warm, my body soft, and arms open if you only want them to be. Touch has meaning if you let it.

Crushed into a Kiss

I felt your breath in my ear as you leaned in close to whisper 'I love you'. I startled myself awake caught in the smoke of your soft lipped dream. You are wonderful in my mind.

Doubt

I wish I knew if any of your thoughts were meant for me.

That Moment

I think I am finding myself a little enamored with you both and I like the idea that there are lips out there somewhere with my name lingering on them.

I Came Here For Your Death

I want your ethereal heart and I am willing to dig into your chest to get it. I want to devour it and all its gossamer light. I want to drain the blood and feel the meat between my teeth. I want the wound to never close up so you can feel me in your skin forever. So you can feel nothing but me. Feel only the hardness scarring up your world full of visions of me rising above you. I want to be your wounding. Your ugliness. Your eternal vengeance caught in the throats of the guilty.

I am the demon behind your eyes and the killer between your sheets.

And I want all of you for myself.

Write Me

I want you to write a story about me. I want to find myself in your text as I dig between the sentences. I want to know your interpretation of my flesh, my eyes and the words falling out of my mouth around your ankles. I want to be a main character in your demonic chapters and find my dialogue dripping with innuendo; filled to the brim with sharp bones. I want to be your hero and your villain. I want to be your twisting plot and fuck up your narrative structure. I want my distorted image on your dust jacket. I want my name on every page. My fingerprints in your ink. I want your hands to shake when you write it all down.

I want to be The Word and to fill your head with me all day...

A Game of Names

You tell me that you want to be my lover, as slippery as you are, and expect that I don't know the sound of dripping flesh. I've been here before. More times than I care to count. I have seen you in my dreams and felt the unhealthy gasping jolt me awake. I have seen you change colour. I still have your name stored in the back of my mouth just in case I need it again.

Your fingerprints are still in my pillows. You've crumpled my sheets with your jittery hands. I would cradle your wet eyes but it is not me in your text. Not me in your sweetest fragrant fantasies. And certainly not me dancing behind your motivations when your hands go wandering for skin.

I have no distance on me. I am a crippled expanse of unused emotions. A girl full of good intentions and sharp knives. A girl like that will only lead to trouble. A girl like that only has one use. A girl like that is only good for one thing. A girl like that is like a snake under your skin. A girl like that wants too much. A girl like that might just kill you in your sleep.

With my heavy blood-slicked thighs, I will kneel before the moon and whisper your name to the moths. Whisper little bits of your secrets that your never even realized you told me. The night and I will go out dancing stirring up the road dust with our feet and darting down the alley with the feral cats. In and out of yards and garbage cans whispering your name; calling your game to us. Calling you. Calling you. Look out your window. I'm there right now.

He Has No Arms and I Have No Heart

I woke up and you were saying goodbye...

Goodbye... goodbye... goodbye...

And I like you so much better when you are very, very quiet. It's not me you are thinking of, is it? Am I something that moved quickly through the corner of your mind? Something momentary? Just a shift in the tectonics of love... Shifting and trembling up the side of your neck. A trail of saliva leading back to the other land. That other home in your eyes; I see the trick of this word. Of your words all want and I suffer.

Riverman, eyes all water. Dark under filmy half-light in captured beams from shoreline to rocky shoreline. Wrecked against the walls and I can not feel my hands. No one wins. There is no redemption. The bad guys always prevail. There are no heroes. God wrecked us all long ago on this rock; this ball of hate and death and sacrifice.

Tell me lies. Tell me you love me. Tell me lies. I'm falling and no one sees me wrapped in black silk tumbling down awash in bird's feathers and innocence. I was trying to fuck my way to forgiveness and only ended up breaking myself on the glass in your eyes. Everything is so void. There is no magic in this empty place. No righteousness. No longing. I crawl into my mind where everything can be perfect for just a moment. Just for one diamond moment.

Then I wake up and find, with disappointment, that I still seem to be breathing...

The Burden

The Burden is in me; dancing under my skin with the white whales of thought and love. I have seen it and I have made it crawl to me as a dog. You are my dog; white dog. Hill to hill, screaming I ran. Panicked. Pursued. Hounded by your hands.

I never liked you anyway. I never liked you anyway. I never ever ever ever... Never...

Fluttering hands. Stand on my hands, my evil throated man. My soft throated call; wiggle to God. Shuffle to the Devil. He sees me with iced over eyes, frozen here with his own hate. I have owned that hate. I took it up in my mouth. I rolled it around my tongue, swished it between my teeth. It tasted of blueberries and ash. Reminded me of my homeland where the trees bent at my passing. The grass forming knots as I would go.

I never ever ever... never liked you anyway.... I never ever... Ever Never...

I am standing in the creek. Snow is falling all around me. Cedars whisper my name. Coyote runs and yips. Jumps in the snow for mice. I jump. I send the water up into the air. It falls upon me in frozen droplets and settles there. Ice maiden mad with the cold. Ice maiden a frigid soul. I walk on to colder pastures and ripple in the all.

I never... I should have never ever... I am ever and never... I never like you anyway...

There is a gate. There is a great wall. A wall that surrounds this city. A city wall. Built when mad Arabs crossed the land; Arab warriors driving Christians out. Christians who had taken the holy land; blood running ankle deep in the streets. Christians in their shining armor; shining righteousness. Blinding in the desert sun-- ancient desert god uninterested in this little war. Little war where I set down and wept at the Pharaoh's temple; watched the cats take the souls of the dead.

I never... I was never.... I never... I was there...

He called my name. It made me shudder; and stutter, and try to say something important. He, who was unguarded, now had dogs at his feet. He wanted me to bend over and do as he said. He wanted to force himself into my mouth. I resisted the urge to bite down. I resisted the urge to plunge something into his chest. If I opened a hole in him, he could feel what it was like to be penetrated... He could feel what it was like to be a woman. I could force the birth of his organs and through pain he could know what it was to be us... He called my name; Burden, and I turned away.

And I never... I never liked him anyway... and I never... and I was here... I saw it all... I never did any thing to stop it... ever...