Morbid fascination kills me again and again. These are the death throes Of our potential. This is the not the martyrdom I try to tell myself it is. It is assisted suicide. Nor is it the first time- Reincarnation ad nauseam, Same me, different yous- Till nirvana: A state I cannot reach. It sickens me, The way I crave Your attentions. Like Tantalus I thirst And am never satisfied. You bloom perpetual While I fade like echoes. Jeweled fruit that fall From your lips Into my ears Sweet fruit, biting aftertaste, Like soured wine to the dying man, Leaves me…
Heart Burn
Hey guys, i’m not dead! I wrote a poem and everything. Read on for delicious teen angst. -.- Heartburn You are bad for my heart. Premature ventricular contractions, Unexpected palpitations, Chronic pain that no Clinically proven prescription can palliate, With prolonged burning from passions Long since passed. All you’d left was a hole, And I was defective. Recovery is slow, I’m still clogged with thoughts of you, But the heart is a muscle So I’m working it out to be stronger. Remission lulls into complacency, So relapse is swift, acutely reminding That chronic pain is persistent. It is a return…
Ode
*NOTE* this has been edited. and i’m much happier with the edit. Ode Your voice is sweet and slow like honey dripping off a spoon, And the way your lips caress each word; parting is such sweet sorrow. Your scent intoxicates my being With its murmurs of power, Hints of vice And the lingering notes of fixation. Your pendulum see saw hips hypnotize my eyes So I play right into your smile When our eyes meet, time moves poco rit, As you weave your spell on me And when we touch, the heat crescendos, my heart beats staccato allegro And…
Call To Worship
The artist has no comment. I come to your temple to worship, I’m on my knees at the altar, Give me the wine, Let me taste your body. I adore with word, Thought And deed, Let my lips sing your praises. Let me worship at your temple, And when I call your name, It will never be in vain.
Tricks
i’m really not amused. must this really be the theme of my first piece of the year? sigh. also, i’ve added a like button to all content. feel free to use 🙂 I know your secret. You wait until the taste Of you has All but faded To spring forth And remind me That you’re still there, To make sure I never forget. I know your trick, But that doesn’t Mean I don’t Fall for it every time.
Deadly Sins (Cycle II)
You are the vice That resides in my soul, The lust and envy That corrode it, The temptation That I yield to, Again and again Without fail. Forgive me Father, For I have sinned, And I yearn for absolution.
The Little Things
It’s the little things that make me think of you. (the smell of stale smoke, brushing my hair, the way the boy at the corner stood as he waited for a bus). When they come, as thoughts often do, I’ll inhale, try to still my heart, flush the thoughts away, Of course it never works, but I can’t help but try, and maybe one day the little things will be just that: things.
Flash Fiction Friday #21: Fresh To Death
fff#21: (starter) it wasn’t how fresh It wasn’t how fresh his mark was whenever he went out, or the way his shirt hung just right, or the way his jeans hugged his hips and the demim kissed his skin, or the combination of dimples and bashful smile that always smelled of mint that got me, but it certainly helped.
Infatuation: A Haiku
Watching from afar, i wonder what it’s like to be wrapped in your arms.
Flash Fiction Friday #30: Charmer
fff#30: (inclusion) snakecharmer, citrus, book(s) Not quite sure if i got what i was supposed to do quite right, but no scene 🙂 The snakecharmer plays his instrument and sways, serene, almost oblivious to the fact that the very breaths he takes enthralls the creature before him. So it was with me and him. The melody of his voice drove me to distraction whenever he spoke to me, and the movement of his hips when he walked away hypnotized me. But he wasn’t oblivious to the effect he had on me. Oh no, it was quite the opposite. He read…