drive[her]

you're on the sidewalk
   waiting for a shiny red taxi
and you can hear the people
                                            talk
all around you, teksi, teksi, teksi

but none of them are for you.

    and you want one to be for you
so bad
           so
               so bad,
   you want to start anew
on the other                                   side of the street

but there are no taxis for you.

   there has to be, there has to be,
hands waving, white flags aplenty,

     take me a w a y, take me
and they all blur past until the streets echo e m   p t y
(

but there are
                 no taxis for        you)

instead, a black car pulls up
  next to you,
get in, he says, we could go somewhere, 
            if you want
and you want a lot and the windows are tinted
                                                                                 black
                                                                                                 ,
                                                                                                        so you do.

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.

brainstorm

i don't want to embarass you and i'm not out to impress but
       you're the kind of man cummings and bronte and austen and duffy are
       inspired by
                          you make my muse dance, with her flaxen
                          silver entwined hair and opal eyes containing
                          an aurora, she dances to your words as they
                          rain down on my psyche. featherlight touches
                          make her howl and laugh airily with glee, fingers
                          stretched as far as they can go with ink running
                          down her face as something rushes along my nerves
                          like liquid lightning lighting up her maelstrom sky

she whispers a thousand words into my ears and my hands can't keep up, words flying across my screen,
across my napkin
           my paper
           my skin,

and there's barely enough t i m e left in the world to write barely enough for you.

you will, you will, because

[hers-yours-our]

oh, these worthless words

i sing for you,
for you,
and you're always asleep.

i speak for you,
for you,
and you never hear me.

i look for you,
for you,
and you're never here.

i love only you,
only you,
and you'll never even


fucking know.

celebrating supermoon

they say there's a supermoon out tonight,
the first time in eighteen years;
you've never believed in coincidences.

(eighteen years is too coincidental,
 it's when you first start feeling lonely,
 and it's my first debut to existence;
 an errant thought in a young girl's
 womb.)

(eighteen years is too coincidental,
 as you left the icy square prehistory
 and memories of the wine-red sun.)

(eighteen years is too coincidental,
 because that's how long it's taken,
 for me to fly home.)

(oh but, eighteen years is too coincidental,
 because this is the year i realise i kinda
 fucking love you.)

(and eighteen years is too coincidental,
 for this to be a coincidence.)

there's a supermoon out tonight,
for the first time in eighteen years,
it's there to celebrate youandme.

come home, come home

once upon a time,
i took the stars from my eyes,
joined them with yours,
and kept them in a silver
heart-shaped locket around my neck,

i used this chain to find my way back,
to you, to you, to you,
torn, tired trainers trailing
across the vast night sky;
empty as stars and moons,
shy from your smile
you are home, always.

heartstring

. one .

{tracing the inkblue lines across creamy parchment,

 & writing out the rhythm, one-two, of your heart.}

. two .
{running underneath the black corded powerline, high above,
 electric connections in 2 hearts, skip a beat, over the distance.}

. three .

{looking out for the bloodline thrumming with redredlife,

 your touches hold  me and your pulse makes this real.}

let's get naked

this isn't art;
this is profound truth.
and when you strip my words,
peel back each metaphor and simile,
and oxymoron and adjective,
look at each individual letter,
bared and curvy&dots,
there's just one profound truth.

i love you, you dork.
. you're just too fucking proud to strip my words back and see it .

love&time conspiracy

          an ever-hungry mouth, like a demon-child, swallows up golden sodium chloride grains,
          that flow through cool glass curves,
          time runs.

          greedy fingers reach up for the fireworks sometimes, as they light up the face of a thousand lost souls,
          thrown into the darkness again, when the stars and moon are blown out like candles,
          love runs.

          through our veins and our smiles and our hearts.
          this is it.

memento

she writes your story in 

lifeb l o o d,

and keeps you real,
in a cacophony of
empty fiction.

wait a minute, did he--?
he can't have. no way.
you try again.
your eyes glance to the corner of the room and then flick back up,

you catch the slight blur as he looks away hurriedly.

triumph shines in you brighter than gold,
but bitterness coats your lungs,
and tongue.
this is badgood, i don't know.