my heart is selfish
and only wants me
She’s abusive,
intrusive.
She swallows me hidden.
I’m in love with her
I trust her
She forces me,
shoves truth
out from my belly
through my clenched teeth
She makes me throw up,
nice and neat.
She edges me to moonstone tears
Even I am sick of me
and my selfish heart
She allows me to fold
as she soaks into my Viking thighs
I wouldn’t still be alive
without her
Souls’ Teeth
i weave tension
as eyes made contact
as our stare shapes
fantasy and eruption
we are careless
we destroy out of delight
our passion with walls poured pride
we became one another’s prey
i am dancing on the world
you built it with the grit
between our souls’ teeth
Crystal Clear Confusion
The center is a labyrinth.
We close our eyes to seek it
It likes to absorb itself
in hues of the abyss
Our fragments hide and seek
Bend at the pond
That foreign transparent center
Crystal clear as confusion
Flesh
She was
a woman of flesh
pacing
back and forth
softened down
till her belly aches
chaotic to escape
with everything to lose
and those summer blues
lived
to consume her
she
adored being consumed
after allowing herself
to turn stray
hmm
maybe someday
The Art of Becoming Sacred Matter
Sweet Craving
Nuzzled in Circles
I made a wish for you
my brown man
ferocious
beastly
Sunset and savory
Made me his baby
Nuzzled in circles under his wing
Where I’d devour his scent
He’d startle
with big ole eyes
Consuming me till full
I would never lie to them
I feel safe
under his wrath
We made love
he made me laugh
I omitted my heart
Slow burn
late bloomer
He’s impatiently patient
An active volcano
We paired together well
She Will Return
You’ve inflicted a wound
down the length of her spine.
Sabotaging the currents
to maintain her movements
give way to the wind.
With the immense distance it provides,
she will carry on.
Her skin sticks and glows a little,
glistens in the sunlight.
She’ll return
and destroy all that you are,
leaving behind
trails of ash and stains
How To Be
you see
i know how to be
courteous,
a beggar;
believer
a star in the night
holding me
By the Door of the Music Room
by the door of the music room
what does one do
when sound hums like prophecy
to the rhythm of one’s soul
spoiling all the way home
anointed with myrrh
a finger on the temple
what does one do
by the door of the music room
Freegrandmaa 