Wild Thing

You wondered, once, why I loved you. Let me explain as simply as I can: You are a wild and beautiful thing, my hands pressed against your heart and all I can think is that I do not deserve you. I do not know if I can hold you and let you go as a wild thing should be held and let go. Shall we never regret it? Will you love me forever? Beautiful, wild thing that you are, I love you as a wilting flower loves the sun and rain. I love you as fiercely as a heart can, with all that I have to give and even what I did not know I could give. I love you because you are what I waited for, what I hoped for and I have not been disappointed.

Sarcasm

Pardon me if I scream, its only the world coming to an end and I can't stop it.
Don't worry about me, I'm just fine.
I wasn't hurt or anything. I wasn't upset by anything.
Nope, you just keep doing what you're doing. I'll be fine.

Sweet Morsel

Your coca-cola kisses still linger on my cotton candy skin.
The violet perfume of your breath glistens on a pale cheek.
The sky is a television on a dead channel, static venom.
An ice cream chill goes through me, glittering like diamonds.

It twirls around my spine, freezing and melting my bones.
You're a forgotten sweet, slowly rotting in bitter silence.
You're a tender feast for the birds, red cinnamon blood.
I could never forget the facade of your lies, spilled rubies.

Those stolen coca-cola kisses linger longer than your face.
Violet perfume echoes and softens against my paling cheek.
I can't change the channel of the sky, watching static arcs.
Your never ending sweetness chills me to the bone.

Destroying Beauty

I watched you fall to the ground, bleeding and crying.
"I'm sorry, baby."

I watch you pick the pieces of your self-esteem up off the floor.
"I wanted to destroy something beautiful."

I watched you fight back the lies and the hatred.
"I love you."

I watch you stand up, wishing I could push you back down.
"I love to watch you cringe."

I watched you dust yourself off, wipe away the bloody tears.
"I will never do it again. I swear."

I watch you believe me, enough to even kiss me.
"I always lie."

The Jaws

The jaws of life worked convulsively,
chewing her up, grinding her down to
her basest components. And, when it
was done, it spat her back into oblivion
and laughed as her soul circled around again.

Cake

I want cake.

I want a different body, a different face. I want to be beautiful.

But I'm the fat kid, so I want cake.

I suppose I could always stuff my face and then throw it up later.

I'd be beautiful then right?

Is that what it takes to be pretty?

Must I always destroy myself to be perfect enough for everyone else?

I suppose the cake can wait.

Better yet, never touch it again.

I'll be thin then.

But I'm the fat kid, so I want cake.

Confession

While I'm admitting secrets, maybe I should tell you that you meant the world to me and it hurts so much that you decided that our friendship wasn't worth the time. I hate you, but I miss you. Maybe someday it will fade, but for today it is an angry welt on my heart that keeps screaming curses at you for the betrayal. Are you Happy?

A Portrait of the Artist as a Flower

Humanity is a cannibalistic flower. We bloom, ever growing in this canopy of sky and sunshine. We devour ourselves, the bones of those before us, our brothers and sisters, our neighbors and friends. We are beautiful, colorful and chaotic. We are roses and dandelions, dancing and spinning through time and space.

Ever-changing and always the same. We are complex and simple in our complexities. We are a virgin and a whore, constantly moving from one body to the next in our hunger. This hunger is overwhelming, devouring us. In its wake we are transfixed by the greed and the need. We are sexuality and ritual, cannibals and whores. Flightless birds on a collision course.

We are a field of red. Red roses, red poppies, red paint dripping everywhere. Wars divide us, unite us. We stand alone, but stand together. We pick the flowers we like best and cut down the others, proclaiming them weeds. It is the same in every generation. We have our prejudices, our vices. We are purity and love, beauty and lust.

We are simplistic in our complex nature. Chaos mating simplicity and complexity in a ritualistic, cannibalistic and sexual frenzy. We try to escape, but there is no escaping the self. We find ourselves within the bodies of others, raping and killing, trying to find the truth in blood. In the end we are hacked down by the flowers behind us. Each of us weeping that it was not our time.

Hell is an empty House

Hell is an empty house.

That's what the sign said, dangling crookedly from a spindly hook.

Hell is an empty house.

Words painted in white on black boards; the handwriting shaky.
The words reverberate through the emptiness spoken by ghosts.

Hell is an empty house.

Drifting through, colors muted by the darkness, words that smell.
Can words have a smell? A taste bitter enough to make you wince?
The ghosts avoid that part of the house, afraid of the truth.

Hell is an empty house.

And all that remains to me is the sign that you made, it mocks me.
I watch it from the fireplace, watch as a breeze makes it sway.
You left me here to stare at the madness of it, the emptiness of it.
And all that remains of me is that sign, the sign you once loved me.

Hell is an empty house.

Penile Thinking

I am listening to your excuses,
        the verbal abuses.

Is it a name game you play?
        Her name, you say.

So you couldn't resist,
        a tempting kiss.

Let your penis do the thinking,
        now you are sinking.

Sinking...

Sinking...

SUNK.

Boy, I don't care that you were drunk.
         I don't care, you're a skunk!

So fuck you, fuck this.
         Enjoy her kiss.

I deserve better than you,
         and I loved you too.

Love Song to...

    It's unmoving, it's unchanging.
It's wonder and amazing.
   It's shaking, it's the moon and the
sun and the stars. Is it love? Is it
my turn to dance? Is it time for
my dreams to come true? Or is
it a passing feeling, that I'm
believing is true?
   If it's love, will I realize it? Will
I see it? Will I wait long enough to
catch the breath I am losing?
   What is love?
   It's patient, unmoving, unchanging,
amazing and wonderful. It's the
birds, the sky, it's the moon, the
sun, it's the stars. It's everything
I'm dreaming of.

The Wild Mustang

   Grace in motion. A flawless beauty, a wild passion set free in
one spirited gallop.
   A beauty set free amongst the starry nights and sunny days.
   A lovely voice singing in the still of night as it flies on
winged hooves.
   Kicking up the ground and churning the soil between your hooves.
   The wind streaking through your hair as you canter
through starlit fields and across sunlit mountains. Searching,
straining to find a safe haven.
   Now your beauty, wild grace and gentle voice are in
jeopardy. You are slowing being lost to a growing
world.
   And once you are gone, you will never return.

The Swing

   Rocking back and forth, my bare-feet rubbing against the
rough wood of the deck. The sunlight sparkles against the
green grass. The children dump sand, from the sandbox,
onto the porch.
   Squirming puppies crawl all over the green swing. They jump
off, then cry to be picked up. The dog brings home his girl. We
sit on the swing and pet them both.
   Now-a-days one puppy is bigger. He wags his tail so hard
his whole body shakes. Our other puppy ran away. We still sit
on the, chipped, green paint swing. We pet our dog, Hunter.
   The swing rocks back and forth in the breeze, as the
rain pours on either side of the porch. Dark gray clouds come
together, while the children play with their toys on the swing.

To A Best Friend

   How can I repay you for all the times you listened to my sorrows?
How can I repay you for all the hours you spent listening to my
endless chatter?
   How can I repay you for putting up with me for so long? What
could I give you to say, "Thank You"? What words can there be
to express how much I love you for always being there when
I needed you?
   God must have known how lonely I would be on this Earth, so, He
sent you to me! You brought me closer to God without even
knowing it.
   You kept me sane in an insane world. You were sweet when the
world was bitter. When I was down, you pulled me up. When I
cried you were always there to dry my tears and say, "It'll
be okay."
   Love doesn't really cover every area of the way I feel
about you. You've done everything for me, now it is my
turn to give your gift back to you.
   You are the best friend anyone could wish for. I am
the luckiest person in the world to be your friend.
   Thank You! :)

Sweet Secrets

   Sweet vanilla fills my room. Mixed with sugar, dancing around
the fan. Filling my nose, warm, comforting, strong and safe.
   Tracing lines on the ceiling, soaking into the glass windows.
Sweeping across my navy blue carpet, whispering sweet
secrets to the dust on the shelf.
   Running through my hair, clinging to my clothes. Sending
little love letters in fragrant bursts.
   Sweet vanilla fills my room, warm and safe. Whispering
sweet secrets to the dust on the shelf. Sending little love
letters to my soul in fragrant bursts.

My Great-Grandmother's Necklace

   It was my great-grandmother's, my mother's and, maybe one
day it will be mine.
   When I look in the mirror, at the jewel hanging around my neck,
I wonder. What was going on in the world when you wore it?
   What were you thinking about? What were you feeling as you wore
the necklace that, now, hangs around my neck?
   Every time I look at this necklace, I feel a sense of history
mingled with pride.
   Even though I never met you, or knew who you really were, I feel
that I know you when I wear your necklace. You left a legacy
behind, for me, in your necklace.
   And now, when I wear it, I hope I am making you proud. I am
your legacy, just like your necklace.

Aslan

   On my bed, lying next to me, is a stuffed lion puppet named Aslan. A fifth birthday present from my mother and step-father. He's lived with me for almost eleven years.
   He was purchased from a drugstore in Bloomington, Indiana. His mane is, now, ratted from washing him, then drying him in the dryer.
   He is light brown, with a burnt orange nose. Over his mouth is a dirty white patch, has white fur eyebrows. His mane and tail are brown and black. His eyes are orange with ebony centers.
   He is care-worn, soft and cuddly. He smells of age and dust. He holds all my deepest secrets and he has been my comfort and constant companion in sad times.
   He was there when my grandmother, Memere, passed away. When my grandparents sold my puppy, when my best friend was killed in a car accident and when my mom lost the baby.
   He is named after a lion in C.S. Lewis' classic stories of "Narnia". Sometimes, when I'm by myself, he and I go to Narnia to play and pretend we are kings and queens.
   But it is late, we are both tired. So, as we say goodnight and turn out the light.

Peace

Peace prevails over
everlasting troubles and tribulations. Our
awesome God provides a way when there isn't one. He
catches us when we fall, and we will spend
eternity praising His goodness and mercy.

Eternity

Entwined forever in His arms, praising Him for
these miracles He continually pours on us. Anything and
everything we need, He provides through His
righteousness. His love tucks us,
neatly, into bed at night. He lets
it pour over us like soft rain. He then
takes the cares of life away and replaces it with a
yearning for Him. Let us rejoice in the Lord forever.

Troian and Dante

   On a cloud, golden in hue, lay
Troian, daughter of Passion and Loathing.
Mournfully, she played a forgotten
tune and watched over empty worlds of blue.
   To her weeping eyes came the
shepherd boy, Dante, playing his
stringed instruments and in singing
turned her gaze.
   She cast off immortality and
loved him as humans love. Yet, Dante
returned not her fancy and, in her grief,
cast herself into the arms of the sea.
   Forever she cries, her moans
and tears causing fair foam to
spring from the deep. And no ship is
safe when it be that Troian weep.