thoughts twirling around ceiling fans

The ceiling fan
stirs cool air
about my bare skin,
bumps form , the blanket pulls up;
I rest my head against a flat pillow
and wait for him..
he crawls next to me,
legs automatically intertwine ,
heart rate picks up two fold,
eyes open, slant and fill with life.

Blood turns warm,
eyes will not stop observing
the magnificent creature next to me,
Overwhelmed with love-
I will not say a word,
never say a word,
I will not give in,
I will not let my heart be viable
to accursed winds.

The ceiling fan
swirls silently above,
yet there is no affect
upon my uncovered skin,
I bubble like a volcanoe ready to burst,
this love-lust is
....
what it is;
we are what we are,
nothing more , nothing less
with this thought,
I lay my eyes to rest.
 

Some *person* Has Taken A *Holy* Crap On My Heart

Pigs threw up
wings across gooey backs,
sprouting from a foretold fiction;
they grew as if the wings
themselves were meant to exist
upon the greyish pink fatty flesh.

And that is when it developed-
the pulsing energy
that connects two souls,
intertwining your existences
as if you were meant to become
little bits of each other..
since before the beginning of our time.

A rooster grew teeth!

And now I know
it is all over.

I am done for.

My heart is melting
into someone else.

The strength of this pull
is overwhelming and
utterly,
beautiful.

I never thought
I could
, could ,
feel this
ever again.

A chill overcomes me,
for I am frightened of this
detrimental feeling,
connection,
.. ... ..... love.

Hence,
I keep my mouth
zipped,
and my heart open.

For this one is different
and I will
Not
let him Go
by falling too deeply
into the pit
too quickly.
(hell no.)

So-
The pigs will fly
and the roosters grow teeth;
for I
am falling in love.

Yay or Ney

There is some sort of faction
between
the lines
of love and lust
and
what is right or wrong,

i suppose
what is wrong
is wrong when one feels
badly about doing something.

minus Hitler.
and Napoleon.
and Mussulini.
And Saddam Hussien.
and Castro.
and all the evil spirits.

but otherwise,
wrong must be what any
sane person
feels is wrong,
right?

so where this faction
comes to play.
what does it mean
if i feel guilty
just meeting up with
someone who is male
and possibly interested in me
when i am sleeping
when someone else
that i truly like a lot.

i suppose it means
i am monotheistic.
damn.

The Day I Shall Find To Be Lazy

Striking

                isn't it            ?



  The way 
                     the lazy day

                                            makes one feel


                                                                           like globs of sticky  ,    gooey







                                     Glue.

jezebel articulated and untitled

Jezebel,

you made me smile
every
time

you said you'd love me more.

and my life.

my smile.

   was worth a thousand words
      
            when you said Jezebel.




                  the beast was worth

                                    the chance

we took


                                              thousands

             of years ago.






                                I loved






                               you











                                                         Jezebel.



      and now


                    nothing ends
                                        nor begins.










         my windows carry more of a personality


                than the girl stuck inside
                            this piece of
                                 shit
                                    body.





                     you know               I                                     do      not                             care.

juggling the men et une légère réaction

she lowers
ses yeux.

juggle
les hommes.

nonpartisan,
ils sont ses jouets.

she wants
aimer de nouveau.

she tries,
encore rendre croit.




Que faire?....



... What to do ? 

i looked at you once, i kissed you once, and it all ended at once.

start with a                       *clink*

     which sparked a                           *wink*

              and ended with a                                       *zinc*






                                        je ne te regarde pas.




for you spelt my milk                                           and drank it too.



                     


                                      je ne vais pas pardonner.










so what started with that unbearable                      *clink*

   will never again deserve a                                                      *wink*

         i only hope to drown you in                                                                   *zinc*

close, open, et regarder.

where do your eyes
wander
when thin flaps of skin
cover them with little shield?

I know you can still
see
the image of light.

can you see
your mind

or

me?

do you remember
what I look like?

how my dress
fit
tightly

and the bump of
my ass
?

do you care?
do I care?

and when you let-up
the thin flaps

where will your eyes
wander?

to the corner bar,
the girl standing by the ledge
smoking a cigarette
wearing those
shortest of shorts
and the tiniest amount of fabric
over her breasts?

or will they
wander
to the trees.
or the sky.

or toward me.

?

either way, I care not.

I just want the satisfaction
of wandering eyes.

i am here and he lies there

they are crazy.

just as the damned moonlight

seems different
and slighly unevolved

as




it chooses not to shine directly

upon my

unresolved face.




and he fell asleep.

softly.

annoyingly.

and i kept typing,
because he hates it.

this is how i feel tonight

quintessential.
thoughts radiate
through my little mind
as wilco brings
a delectable smile
to my face.

the universe
treats me well
at the moment.

"my mind is filled with silvery stars"

and i dine
on the fruits
of  juicy souls
and coffee.


--

so far.
away --
)
:


interpret as you may. 

the lynching

Below disappointment, underneath a belly of fear, he cries for a moment- bitter, anguished and tormented. This be the plight of a young'in. "Why?", he asks in despair. Answers drift motionlessly away. Gag, blurp, cough. Distress awakens plainly and death pulls listlessly.

choke him till the blood rushed from his head!

shake his stomach clean out!

he deserves the death he has coming!

slit his throat,

cut his balls off!

skin the bastard!





...and they did just all those terrible incomprehensible juxtapositions to the body. 

hung the man from a willow tree, tormented the haggard fellow.

Started with a slash to the spine, painful, paralyzing but not fatal.




The worse came after.

i am never listening to your nonsense

your voice
trickles through
words   -
unspoken yet seen
under the limelight of scrutiny 
and unbearable

injustice

, , ,          :

poured graciously
out
, ripped apart.

the silence of your tears
basks in the
                   stuffy room,
clouded with ponderous haze.


and words,
how they pour listlessly 

drawn out with a mouth sewn shut.

 

red eye flight

Thine eyes glisten
burnt red
stupid, 
alive,

...


idiotic.

i hate you.

i love you.

oh, how i hate you.



leave me.
be.
i am
happy

alone.

foughf.





--------








i wanted a life
with the last one before him before you.

and that ended with my heart
seeping brown liquid..
oozing green madness
into my intenstines.

.


...
.
..

i will never regret
what i now despise.





O:







rawwwrrr.

i am woman         !

           hear me roar              !


+++++


fuck you

, you insolent bastard of governmental striations. 

..oh wait, didn't i use that dildo on you last week    ?

pussy.


=====================================================


















kessa.

kussa ?

russka    ?



.
.....       .................              ....


and your balls on my legs.




yeah , right .









......................        ...............







and my heart

turned back over. .

silently replaced itself with a
                           brain.






.
i am stronger.
.






 

Post Title

Heartless.
Bastards.
Stand in the way of any sanity we had left.
Begotten tools
Consisting of evil.
Sway away.
Far beyond the dust and destruction.

After You're Gone

The trees sparkle a sad brilliance from their leaves,
Dropping leaflets of darkness upon the foreboding ground.
Redness spews from the sky every season,
Reminding of the death that scums us all.

toes and floor

The floor extracts the feet,
ominously, as if they are part of the tile,
clinging, yet releasing a fluid particle sensation.
Bygones are them
and they are bygones.
Twiddling their big toes,
waiting for separation
and the anxiety that follows. .

writing for the yips and yaps

Theres a drive inside of me, A drive toward nothing in particular-- but all the same it exists, although I am not sure what lays stagnant inside me. I want to be active, but I do not know with what, I want to love, but I do not who. Words have been taken from me, more predominantly than the cigarettes I keep smoking. I feel as if my ability to communicate is slowly dwindling away.. I am becoming more and more lethargic, stumpy, oh no, American. I am becoming a damn classic "American." Oh Lord no! I can't take being American!

wruv in mi heart

I've found that my heart is so full. Full of love, that is ready to spread like fairy dust throughout the world. Tears form listlessly, it is too much to take. All this love, slows me down. I fight to move, to do, yet I should be more motivated by the love, shouldn't I? Yet I lay in bed, naked, in body and mind waiting for something that will never come without motivation.

eyes on the flies

The boredom that stings my eyes
ravage my insides,
peeling particles apart molecule by molecule.
I see no strategy,
only tragedy.

learning through my crust eyes

I've got nothing on my palette
but grays and blacks
of dark nothingness
and all swirl in this unbearable vortex,
becoming a hole
endless in darkness
sucking my soul
to what i cannot comprehend or don't want to comprehend.
Vagina hits the asshole
and shit sinks deep within my organs.
I found this fact when sleep
would not leave my eyes alone
and carrots sprung
from my shit-laden vagina in roots de mass.
Crusty and begotten.
It forms pur hatred,
mas dislike.
N'a pas.