The Loose Hurricane
That fool of a Hurricane came along wearing her precious golden wig her bitch stamp tempestuous temptress twirling spinning violence through internal bricks and boards I am a carpenter a blood sculptor...
View ArticleThat She Is
He carries his Sylph one flight up, further than his dream had landscaped, by seams and stitches, a creation grows. Creator, with his silver air occupant, of matter, of time. The Sylph snags arid...
View ArticleMiss Serpentine
The bells began to spin without chime. I noticed them long before her blue hair reached out beyond arms length; azure fire serpents striking! The bells twirled and whirled, and I noticed them before...
View ArticleSkin
Tonight, I peel indifference from my face and hang it up for tomorrow. Ice is melting. A flood will take me soon as my body tries to mend. A two-inch puddle of regret is enough to drown in. I can never...
View ArticleBlurry Thursday
I woke up stained this morning, dripping off last night’s polish. My black eyes watched him cover his tattoos, blurry Thursday. He left early and I wrung myself out. My senses were in shock and I...
View ArticleThis Wild Death
I am sitting in a mirror, hurrying truth faster than it has time to find itself, my skin is catching up and I am missing everything. I let the tigers out, they crawl around, scratching my walls,...
View ArticleBerries and Bullets
The night is thick with hot lead, bullet dust. His empty pockets strangle his hands that once were full with pride. Beer drips from his words, he buries his head six-feet deep in my lap. Catching the...
View ArticleThe Accident
Embarrassment tugs his eyes to the left, cradling his infant courage. He is new skin – crawling for Jesus – drowning in sin. My own infant, white lipped, sleeps like a giant next to my hip. My blood is...
View ArticleSkull Crushed
He mounts himself before me un-zips his stiff skin, wraps his violent arms around me – to crush against his ribs. I brush his chest, boiling veins coil through me, eyes bulge from my head. His...
View ArticleDayDream
I can’t have you come back like August without water. Your limbs shriveled and cracking, bare knuckled, moving like a tree away from fire. We built moons in the back of Cadillac’s, coffee black leather...
View ArticleWhere Dead Mice Sleep
Bring your church to the key – back rooms – chimney sweep – flushed with soot – black like cats – deep in Winter sleep. Bring your arm to my ball – and chain me up – downstairs – I am a slave to black...
View ArticleBerries and Bullets
The night is thick with hot lead, bullet dust. His empty pockets strangle his hands that once were full with pride. Beer drips from his words, he buries his head six-feet deep in my lap. Catching the...
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