charming wolf

there’s a howling in the distance,

long vowels 

stretching through the night

why hide, little sweet thing,

when the howling howls for you

breathe

and it fulfills you

heart ripening

engorged and thrillful

lips throbbing with

wet decisiveness.

in the wild night 

hides a charming beast

pretty in form and manners

until you are close enough,

until your arousing scent

inflames a snarl 

then, my little sweet thing,

your sweetness shall be

devoured

in huffs and grunts

uncommon to most;

the last of your remembering

… heat

… gasps

… exhilaration 

… surrender

(mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

breath on the window

such a small space

inside oneself, plenty of

room here to go completely 

mad

retreat, swell and dwell in

lacunal hibernations

bathing in the blood pools,

luxurious oases

stumbling stag over to the

window’s dilated center, they 

seem so far away, these 

bustling outsiders

test of breath on the window to

shroud their view should they

look inside, dare they, to look 

straight into my eyes

shutter-snap, a blink a blink

to lubricate the surface and

remove the irritants, cleanse

and refocus

plenty of room here to go 

around and around and 

around and around, 

metamorphosis lost in 

bridled frustration 

wipe the window

of breath

and I and I,

we

see clearly now

visible, sometimes

here, somehow

or once again

(pinterest.com)

at the corner convenience store

nitrates spinning on the roller grill at 135F, because those poisons have to be at a safe internal temperature or else they’ll kill you twice as fast

organic slime coats the soda nozzles and diffusers, above a sticky floor full of sugary liquid residue from older spills that have yet to be cleaned, because the girl behind the counter is the only one that showed up today, and she’s nursing a horrible hangover

a skinny man, roughly the width of a quarter note two beats into an otherwise empty stanza, yells his way through the door with combativeness. something about keeping 6 feet away from him at all times and abiding by the social distancing rules that he’s still enforcing wherever he goes. the victim of his ranting shrugs him off and politely walks away. when you portray yourself in such a manner, you will either be ignored or feared. I assume he probably masturbates a lot. I can’t imagine many friendly phone calls coming his way

the bathroom reeks of well water and sulfur from the sewer lines. the last hanging prick that was in there left drops of urine on the toilet seat. there’s graffiti on the mirror that I can’t understand. I’m not that hip, and I really don’t want to be

lottery tickets, cigarettes and chewing tobacco are the biggest sellers here. on my way out I held the door open for a little girl with a lollipop in her mouth. she looked at me without expression. her father said thank you and grabbed her by the hand before entering the parking lot. his case of beer swung like the pendulum bob of a grandfather clock

yes, time is ticking. we’re all just waiting to be scooped up by death’s hands, and carried away from all of this, convenience of living

(so pleasantly)

on the couch

(or both)

on the bed

our clothing

(but when)

strewn about

her hair 

(soon afterward)

needed combing

our skin 

(intoxicating)

smelled different

each other

(so pleasantly)

still shared 

they do

its because they can

that they reach in

its because there are no

boundaries in place that

say they cannot

and so, they do

jutting forth

with pupils dilated 

with skin flushed

with appendages probing

a greeting hand

with blind eyes

enjoying the caress

they mean no harm

but they do

they do

titillating

isn't it

(exOskeletal-undead.tumblr.com)

shoot the sheep

in pockets of sleep

I shoot the sheep

one by one

such a fluffy mess 

had I the means

to get to my dreams 

without their blood

I’d surely be blessed

(peta.com)

tool(s)

(exOskeletal-undead.tumblr.com)

pneuma stirred beyond

hovering, lateral to being

one of the many, in a box of

many, outsider to self in

conflict, holding, nailing

parts back together, clamp

and glue, progression, onward,

to forty six & 2, evolving, higher

higher higher, body in hand, 

the tool guiding forward, breath 

and breathe, renewing, breath

and breathe, walking out from

this skin, this fight, this flight,

conversion cleansing, brightly

now and forthcoming, spiraling

out, and out, and wherever this

takes me, out, beyond 

(mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

as it spins

crackling of the needle on 

vinyl as it spins, 

buoyancy in exaltation

moonlight thin between us

illuminates, chasm filled, as

boundless we sway

swarm, they come, and falls of

harpies snatch our fears

by gust, their doom

let’s dance my love, in melody

soft of song and touch, as if

always it must be

we, entwined

(fineartamerica.com)

where silence resides

gold on green and shadows beneath

where silence resides, unfazed by time

stilled and hushed, unmoved by much;

a passing breeze and sunlight’s touch

the ebb and flow, with tender care

as life climbs up and down the stairs

with peace in hand, this hour demands

a slower pace, meditation and grace;

to love and love, to give the giving of

blooming outward and opening up

the ebb and flow, the inner truce

where silence resides in solitude

(my photo)

there's more

Love always says

  but wait, there’s more

the thick forest that

falls to firewood while

seeding itself to

return again 

the drop of water that

becomes the river that

becomes the ocean

and cycles ‘round

and of this heart that

loves you so,

that guides and refreshes

these enormous words…

  I love you

with love from the

past and present,

while saying as well

  but wait, there’s more

(Soul-love.tumblr.com)

love is an infinite madness

I love you

I

in infinite madness

I

in madness

in love

infinitely

with you

minding mine

my demons

and I

in madness

and you

filled with you

and I

and another

madness

this is

and infinite

this is

and love

and loving

is an infinite madness

(edited image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)

in the first sun

so there you are once again

expected and nothing new

as an onlooker, observing

from the outside looking in

here I am, tepid, me and my 

mercurial temperament

rinsed of midnight’s anguish

and the bloodshed of the fight

not foolish enough to think

that you’ve come around for me

I have come here before you

for your touch, absolution 

giver, great giver; I’m a burden to

this land with what I’ve become

disobedient; I must go now and

ready once more for the night

(my photo)

escape

escape route

north to dreams

but dreams do not

await me

escape to the east

or to the west

or south to just about

goddamn anywhere

but here,

here among the flies

and reptiles

cold and bone

in slow-dead desert

this night is vile,

this night is unforgiving,

this night brings

so much more than

just its darkness...

I am warp,

I am unsteady

amid years of sand

and years of night

with nowhere else to go

but here

(image from fravery.tumblr.com)

in an obelisk

my call has weakened

shouting Love in an obelisk

as night falls

the heartbeat heavies

each stomping thump

as the tongue hangs lethargic

and these hands, still empty

why the need for skin

if not touched

if the protection is unwanted,

let the disease in

let it all in

let it fester

a blessing

I beg to be a sinner

I beg to bleed

to get rid of

heart's goodness,

what good is a heart

without the will to live

or love

my call is a whisper

in death's ear

as night falls

(https://themetronomad.deviantart.com/art/The-Obelisk-102085208)

hatchling

at first blush, bleak 

in weakness and disrepair

tied up in defense mechanisms

created to keep me 

in self-preservation 

I break out anyway

a hatchling wide-eyed

a hatchling squealing

born into a new day;

free as light

and just as unknowing

of my final destination 

(my photo)

improvising

spreading parts of you apart to find the wild dance in your body 

courting the feverish fire of you that I may live forevermore bound to your flame 

everywhere, and traveling over all of your skin at once

across tones of flavored slopes creamed golden to milky white

fingers coercing you from your fragile existence

the sap from you, the hanging drips I catch by tongue, your delicate taste

knowledge acquired as flesh is filled, the thickened air, mutual transcendence

lost to the lust while improvising prayers to the old gods of wants and pleasures

(unknown source)

harvest moon

I'm trying to remember

that you love me

but the harvest moon

has other plans

you reach for me

with a lust of thought

but your naked skin

is still not mine

suggestions go unrealized,

unaccompanied words

fill my hands

but not yours

yours have plenty to hold

and bodies spread

and bodies penetrate

and the harvest moon

is celebrated

(lauramakabresku.tumblr.com)

haze

haze, into cupped hands without sizzle shift or turn

confusing conflicting contrasting colors in delirious delicious melt

yellow, infectious…  the imploding suction of love’s happiness

green, hemorrhaging… a Spring leaking out of every pore 

red, the gauze… need-soaked tight around this itinerant heart

purple, blue… popping like refrigerated berries squeezed to a sweet snap

black… a rose in midnight’s eternal bliss

white… this mirage floating, this forgotten garden 

closer to far away than unreachable

heavy, in the thinning air, this haze

(my photo)

lab rat

third of the bunch

the sensitive one

susceptible, naive

gullible, sacrificial

(cut back the hair

 clean the injection site

 stab the skin

 introduce the intoxicant)

- I felt no pain

at first it was beautiful

but then things changed,

I'm still trying to remember -

there was a smile, promises

words that seemed meaningful

whispers of seduction

... artistic deceptions

- I was a trial dose,

an ostracized contaminant,

a measurement withdrawn

from the careful conclusion -

in the back of my mind

I felt something wonderful

if only for a moment,

at first it was beautiful

(https://www.pinterest.com/pin/550846598151952305/)

   

seconds

a draft of air, heated

drifting up into the 

corner of the kitchen 

where the little bugs roam

their cylindrical bodies 

fit tightly into the wedge 

between wall and ceiling

fruit fly on the cabinet door,

then the wall, then the countertop

eyeing the avocados and kiwis

ripening in the bowl below

old coffee in the pot as the

stove timer keeps blaring;

we’re oblivious to the kitchen 

lost in the bedroom

lost in each other

making love for the second time

(fravery.tumblr.com)