you will always be alone and then you will die

I breathe and live and want; they call me 'whore'. 'Prostitute'. 'Bitch'. But I've never gotten paid and I don't hate anyone for it. I get what I want, and that's more than most girls can say.

Your stupid trailer is freezing, or I am, and I'm hungry again. I'm not above begging you for something to fill me. It's been three days. Baby, your pity tastes disgusting, but beef jerky's all you've got, so I'll take whatever you let me take.

Whatever I want to take.

You're in a cage and there's the stink of testosterone and blood and fear as you tear into other men like tissue paper. Like Picasso, you paint the walls and floors with red and linoleum and intestines before you sigh. I don't want to be here, anymore, I whisper, lost to the jubilant screams of your crowd, but you hear it anyway. Amber eyes rise to my green, suddenly shifting into my own, like you're saying me too or I'm gonna eat you alive.


I can be content with that.

Innocent. You want to keep me innocent, but I've got voices in my head telling me that I'm a sinner, an insult to God, to take what I want because it's mine, I'm no good, I'm better than anyone. And maybe, baby, it would shock you to your bones to hear what I've got in mind. I want to crawl into your skin and take you from the inside out, claim your heart with my teeth and grind you into the floor with my hips. I want to run my hands through your hair and bite you 'til you bleed (for me, again; this is getting repetitive, isn't it?). Have you dreamt about it? I hear you in the night, low voices and hitching breaths -- do you think about me?


Do you?


I am you and you are me, and nobody is a victim here.



(There's this line to this poem, and it's the one that thrums under my skin whenever I'm with you--)


I'm in a car with a beautiful boy and I feel sick to my bones as they creak against my skin because he's not you, and I want you. When did I get into this? When did you love redheads and propriety and tameness and when did I let you? When did you push me into ice-cold arms and ice-cold smiles and expectant hands?

Is it because I can't tell you I break everything I touch? They shatter and wither and die in front of me, you know, and there's nothing I can do about it because I can't let go. Not ever. Because you can't just sink your claws into someone and wait for them to shove you off, not when everything hurts more on the way out than in. Not when I want your claws and your everything, to compress it with the depth of your voice and the heat of your naked skin and swallow it so it's mine. So I'm happy -- so what? There is no excuse for this.
    (--you wanted to be in love and he happened to get in the way or--)



The road to happiness is the most misleading thing, the cruelest kind of ideal because it makes you put up with so much shit, baby, all for the sake of happiness. Happiness, they all tell me, like it's some kind of state and not a thousand moments strung together, not the high you run and reach for in life, not little presents from life to you. As though it's just another goal, another thing on your to-do list as you sit there in a pinstripe suit and briefcase and affairs with a secretary.


You make me happy, whatever that means. For what it's worth.
(--a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he's still left with the river or was it--)

But you're always angry, you keep trapping these tornadoes under your flesh and it's not good for you, baby, to keep her from all these disasters. Sometimes, two people fall in love and it's tragic, it is, but sometimes, two people don't love enough and that's even worse. You've got tornadoes for her, hurricanes, blizzards and a dry, dry desert but she's a city of angels and sky-high towers and I'm gasoline and messed up wind patterns and the sun. You blame me and I take it, because you make me happy and I grew up in Kansas and I'm still stupid enough to believe in yellow-brick roads and evil, redheaded witches and a happy ending.



We're a terrifying, dysfunctional tricycle and I would have it any other way than this. Please.


And we're standing on the edge of a cliff, and we've both got choices to make, baby. But not really, right? I'd move mountains and cross oceans for you, but you'd die for me (and that's the worst part, it is, it is; it's not romantic like in the fairytales, having someone's life in your palm like that).

I am standing on the edge of a cliff and you're by my side, lingering in the peripheries, lingering in the darkness, until I kiss you, isn't it? I kiss you, mouth open and warm, and slide my hands across your chest, your back, and it's supposed to fix everything, isn't it? A kiss is supposed to wake you up, isn't it?


Isn't it?
   (--love, too, will ruin us.)

con[temporary] lucifer

                you are lucifer beneath my fingernails,
                all proud and sinful and seductive,
                all graceless and broken and wrecked.

silhouettes and shadows spill around us,

like great, sooty wings.

                your howls are in my throat,
                and my heart is on your sleeve,
                and if you squint hard enough,
                headlights can be stars, reflected
                in kaleidoscope eyes.

and cigarette smoke could be moonbeams,

like smoky gabriels to send (m)(y)our

damning thoughts to heaven,

charcoal voice keeping this spit-slicked fire

burning through the night.

                 and if i kiss you, like i could taste
                 your soul, feel it dancing on my
                 tongue, don't judge me.

because you are lucifer beneath my hands,

all spineless, and wrecked and wrecked.

fiat lux

god asked me to bow down,

so i did and he said, you are for adam.

in my peripheral vision, you are the brightest thing in heaven, 

and i said, yes. yes, i am his.

trembling palms meet in a palmer's kiss,

and you shied away with each step i took,

adam runs his fingers across my pulse,

and you watch with hungry, thirsty eyes.

my skin feels too hot and too tight,

and i want to burst through in a symphony of light,

so that you'll look at me, so that you'll see me,

even for a brief moment.

i wonder sometimes if you can hear it,

the pathetic thud-thud of my lone heart,

wonder sometimes if it matters, you press a thumb to my sternum 

to leave a wreath of purple flowers and i don't think it does.

i remember the apple tree and your wide, wide eyes,

as your fingers spread starlight across my ribs,

and between my thighs, and your voice, exultant,

gloria patri and you are so beautiful.

beautiful. that's what you are, so bright and pure,

and when i kissed you for the first time,

my tongue snaking around yours,

you tasted like fire and mornings and the sweetest fall.

you taught me to feel, to take,

and the first thing i did was spread myself all over,

your thousand-sun skin and drag out little noises,

with my hands and felt myself roast alive.

i writhe under the canopy of your wings and grace,

as you bless me with your hot mouth in all the most secret places,

throwing my head back, i shut my eyes and pray to soak you in,

the vowels of your name fill up my throat and adam's eyes are green.

my knees burrow in the ground, brackets to keep you grounded,

and my tongue paints a honeyed molass love, and you burn,

brighter than ever, brilliantly,

and eden watches you come undone, silent and salient.

you are the heat of fire and the cool of water,

your words are slippery slick and silver-tongued,

your touch is midas-blessed and golden,

and you are mine.

god told you to bow down,

obey them

and i was in your peripheral vision,

when you said, no, i will not.

and as god turned his wrath to you,

i kept you in the circle of my arms,

and stopped praying, trying to keep you 

from being swallowed by the sea of despair.

horrified, i watched something break,

and i watched my glorious morningstar,

shatter and shine with an impure light,

you turned into lucifer, the light bringer.

just when i don't think i know you anymore,

you stumble in, lips trembling and eyes flooding the earth for days,

and your fingertips mark springs of green and blue and purple,

on my arms and you say, i've never needed you more, and how do i resist?

i told you i love you,

and you brushed off my affection like a snakeskin,

and you wind down my arm, fangs sinking in,

sweet cyanide cider spilling from prayer-cupped hands.

adam's fingers trace my lips,

he walks away, cheeks stinging with shame

and anger,

in the shape of my hand.

michael pushes you through the gold gates,

and held me as hellfire burnt our hearts,

where you are, the fire only serving to illuminate the dark;

you took all the light of heaven and wrapped it around your broken grace.

i trace the red snakes around my wrists,

my lips become crimson with my heated kisses,

on your scars of love,

and if i kiss hard enough, i can almost taste you again.

i count each of my blessings carefully,

collecting them and coveting them,

and since you left,

there has been a grand total of zero.

my teeth bite the forbidden fruit, liquid lust burning,

and it gives me the courage to say,

i hate you; do not touch me; 

i am not for you, adam.

it should be harder to walk past those golden gates,

harder to leave eden and fall to earth,

but it's not, my morningstar,

it's not.

i left heaven for you,

and the gates of hell embraced me.

a/n: based on a dream and not meant to offend anyone. it's just creative licence and i'm sorry if anyone is offended by this.

pour your heart out

my hands are laced in your hair,
glimmering golden in the sunlight,
like an intricate crown on your head.
                                                    you're not the king of much,
                                                    but i've never been a princess;
                                                    i was always, always the queen.

and i don't know how this works,
but my heart's leapt out through
my throat, a silly little effervescent
thing and flown into you, humming,
content across your skin and yet,
it's crashed down, down, d
                                         o
                                            w
                                               n
curling like a small sun in my instep,
heavy as concrete, holding me to this
moment for eternity, making sure i
don't float up && away either.
                                              
                                                   i was the woman with no spaces in
                                                   her head and in my chest and skin
                                                   which stretched over her just a little
                                                   too tightly. my fingers and bones and
                                                   the gaps inbetween my atoms have all
                                                   been filled up by my loneliness and fear
                                                   and heartache and shame and if it's all
                                                   going to spill out now, it might as well be
                                                   in your hands; i've always really really
                                                   liked them.

kissing you is unlike anything it's
like trapping a storm in a glass jam jar,
like speaking in a forgotten language,
and it all just pours out of me and you
build brick houses in the spaces left
behind so that you'll always feel like
home to me.

la petit mort

eternity's reproduced an infinite amount of times,
in the span of time it takes for you to touch our lips together.

and it's never felt like this before.

and this can't just be simple lust;

not when the brush of your skin against mine

has me breathless already.

it's a bite of apocalypse when you do finally get round to it;
i'm stretched out underneath you, earthy expanse of brittle
brown shaking and quaking with tremors as your light-white
skin moves across mine like lightning; your voice an echo of
Gabriel's Horn, signalling the end and your fingers stroke
angel-harp ribs and i make the most jawdropping sounds.

my death is little,
and i am remade, reborn,
in your large warm hands.

midnight snack

your skin swallows up the sun,

until you're fit to burst with sunrays leaking through your fingertips,

your tongue traces thought-ridden lips as your cloudy mind

sheds judgements like clothes for charity

precise and well-worn;

your silence says more than it should,

(

slithering up to my heart, [f ang s] sinking in,

the poison in my veins hums for your voice;

i'm w r i t h i n g                     gossamer skin,

  underneath

pulled [tight] over blood+bones,

fireworks filtered through fallen lids,

&& 

[there's a song written on the inside of my wrists]

seagreen lyrics singing lifebloods,

as the moon creeps out, child-like curiosity,

inky ghosting locks liplocking across the night,

milky moonbeams f

                                a

                                     l

                                         l

                                                        to earth, 

to kiss my buttermilk bones;

and now i'm always hungry,

for pale skin and luminous blue eyes,

[for that blue roadmap of amazonian rivers to to your liquid lusty love]

who else can cool my blood?

there's some kind of animal trapped in between the smooth muscle

and endothelial layers of my vocal chords,

pushing through like a thick vine to overtake my face;

{please, i'm howling for you}

you: carmine candy and home and real,

i need to be (wholer),

because my breathing w a n e s,

blueblueblue in the midnight air,

tendrils of heat s p r e a d i n g like wildfire;

and the moon . . . waxes, leaving the night sky,

ravenous for adventure and [p o  o   l    s] into the ocean;

even the sky feeds from my awe of you;

in the dark is the best way to hear your heartb e a t,

thick heartstrings like black powerlines p a s s i n g  t h r o u g h 

the core of every star from you to me,

.h.o.o.k. onto my diaphragm,

make my pace as they d r a g me to you,

over gravel, grit && grass,

bloody feet on the yellow brick road,

hansel and gretel follow me home;

)

i smile

-  k c a b -

 at you patiently&patiently,

serrated incisors glinting in sunlight;

and we're only human

-

[the autumn moon is bright, tonight]

highway to heaven

streetlights hang down and try to grace your skin,
with their warm, honey light-embrace;
you're a long way from home tonight,
and all roads lead back to, back to me.

stumble into white cotton sheets with me,
our steps are heavy with sleep and lust,
a flurry of tongues and limbs,
and all roads lead back to, back to this.

honey, this is love

my heart skips beats and my blood thickens,

like honey and warm milk,

at the sound of your name,

we're only human.

sleep, per chance to dream

my joints creak open like a bedroom door,
they invite you in,
you're never here, where i need you to be.

i wonder if i can just s t o p,
but there's a promise written
between the lines of your hands,
they will never stop haunting me,
my white cotton sheets rip in my grip,
and i dream like smoke,
you twist and turn and dance
around my consciousness.

i could use some sleep tonight.

waterlogged heart

this is it and --

and your eyes

are this weird

annoying

shade of blue

that makes my

heart drown in

itself

[and i can't help but

think if this is it

because there is

there is -- i can't,

i'm not imagining

this, am I? Am I?

but there is a little

something here like

a spark in the dark

or fireworks, the 

kind that flash there

behind your eyes

or would if you'd

come,

and maybe this is

it, you know that

feeling between us

this whole time was

more than just an

epic Odysseus -

Penelope love story -

I'll wait longer than

she ever did, and

Aphrodite was a 

virgin anyways so

she can't even know

how much i want

you

and  it kills me,

how i can't ever say

or write enough on

your skin, i need to

stain it with ink and

even then i can't

ever do your fucking

beauty enough justice

and i can't ever show

everyone the exact way

you rip the breath from

my lungs and how your

laugh spreads across my

skin like the wind through

a barren forest, bringing it

and me to life and how

your smile isn't ever

lopsided or crooked or

anything because everything

in your life has a balance;

even your face and i just

love you]

and they meet

mine from all

the way over

there.

sapphire serenades

stay with me, tonight.
i want to make love to you,
and your eyes will go supernova like the stars,
and your lids shut-flutter to keep this in place forever,
and your mouth fall open just like that,
and your fingers and that voice
will curl around my thighs and heart,
singing my name.

and we'll do this, i promise,
i'll move to the sound of your baritone,
crushing and pushing my name,
it comes tumbling and crumbling,
out between your lips and that one place
coiled up nice and tight and hidden away will
burst open and be engulfed
by flames of gold and red,
and blue and purple,
colourblind ourselves with passion,
and it will be a kaleidoscopic memory
burned into our beings.


the heat will consume us,
twisting up inside and licking up my sides,
followed by your traveller's hands
as you play me like a harp,
burning you from the inside-out
in the best way possible and
i know you won't be able to
bear this heat so i'll press cooling
kisses to your chest and wrists and just
here. oh. just like that?

i want to see how your skin,
melts against mine and how
your mouth will press against mine,
so close that there is no difference
anymore between you and me,
press closer, pull tighter, move faster until
there's are no particles or atoms or
anything between us anymore,
and it'll be perfect as i run
my tongue and my slippery-
split-secrets across
[i love you i love you i love you.]
your pulse-point, and maybe
you'll shiver and gasp and grip my hips
just that much tighter,
there are infinite infinities between us,
but we'll get there,


let me make love to you,
and let me sing for you
words i will never sing
for no one else
ever again,
okay,
la-la la la-la la.