it is just another one of those she is a metaphor for love things another contrite deluge of longing in metaphor and is given the form of her who is she she is the shadow of jayne mansfield behind a silk curtain the promise of dangerous curves her voice is sultry crackle of tobacco on […]
today’s drive was about you my unaware of my existence love masked intruder’s most beautiful girl in the world sums you up to a t it says all the things i would say to you if i could whisper in your ear who am i kidding i would sing it to you in the car […]
and i just stood in the shower the water washing the sweat and dirt from my tired body my head against the cool tile of the wall bah doesn’t matter to the kittens stalking prey in the talk grass outside doesn’t matter to me either my mind near shutting off as the streams bombarded my […]
a lone flower in the heavy summer air it’s head droops low towards the ground too much for the stem to maintain a lone ship deep beneath the surface of the raging sea it’s bow broken and settled into the silt too much water for the holds to maintain a lone man at the edge […]
lost in these ever changing mazes of chain link fences and angry men in hard hats showers of sparks and spent water bottles like a bread crumbs left by pollutant little children it’s already too hot sweat dripping from the twenty minute walk from rental car to machine humidity and stagnant air make it all […]
she came into the room wearing nothing but a bloodstained apron and a smile her eyes gleaming with passion i could nothing but stare at her in love and appreciation ready i can only nod not daring to speak to break the moment she smiles sadly a hint of bittersweet to the pure sugar of […]
i’ve got spiders nesting under my skin for christsakes they crawl and bite and scramble up and down inside my arms laying eggs in my veins oxygen depleted blood cells rush them back into my heart and lungs a vast network of the damned things slowly taking over my meat like it is a series […]
he stood smoking lighting one off the smoldering butt of the last yellow stained fingers rasping cough looking at the street lights but not seeing them wine stains on the front of his wrinkled shirt he is wobbly absently tapping his fingers on his pocket staring into the lights he doesn’t see she died two […]
her hands, so small and delicate, the immaculately sculpted nails painted a mirror black those hands wrapped around my throat, the nails digging into my flesh, half moons of blood running down my chest she rides me like a bucking bronco, far outlasting the eight seconds, her eyes closed, face upturned to the ceiling small […]
