whole

when women woo
the men they turn a runnin’
to wide-eyed girls
who know a nothin’

hallucinatory naps after the longest night

had a dream of
sweet words written

woke to find
I’m still

the only one
semi-kinda-sorta

almost smitten

“I've got my spine, I've got my orange crush” ~ R.E.M.

she can be no other than who she is OR this shit don't rhyme

she's the girl the husbands call on a night their wives are distant
she's the girt the young men visit on a night their heart needs a listen

she's the girl that gives her love, and learns of them more than any
she's the girl that no on knows nor takes the time to see

she's the girl that never gets naught but brief interlude on their path to another
she's the girl that knows what boys like, their dick needs a kissn'

"Your body for my soul, fair swap, cause cheap is how feel..." ~ Cowboy Junkies

near water she breathes deep

on a gray
morn the lake mists split
only by the drumming tattoo
of her heart thrumming
to the moan deep pounding
of a goth synth pop

Daisy Chain for Satan ~ My Life in a Thrill Kill Cult

realizations in the quiet of winter

it’s cold
not just the night
the pit her heart dug

and even
the swoon of love she sought
was naught but dreams

and her heart dug deeper

“Making love out of nothing at all” ~ Bonnie Tyler

he has me writing poetry

I want to consume you in white
pulsing embers and sweetness

softly
slowly
quietly

"I'm dancing barefoot, heading for a spin..." ~Patti Smith