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overindulgences conspired.
lost a night. or two.
hunched over; a bottle of pills,
too much sleep, not enough rest.
late night phone calls, unwanted company.
the bitchy nurse, it's the 3rd and final time.
kindergarten 'treats'. Unappealing.
granny jammies.
apropriate attire, misery pink.

bolzac's

drawers and petticoats, livid, languishing, dishevelled despair.
we care not, but for one thing.
that which keeps us whole; alive.
without which, a barren existence awaits.

revelries abound, we take comfort in guiltless pleasures.
past the rising sun, beyond the heat of noon.
throughout the quiet night.
the only noise, our own, and theirs.

lack of ...

pompous pig.

how do you sleep?

simple complication

we walk paths best left untrodden;
feet, worn and bruised,
morbid euphoria, bites and cuts,
we lick our wounds and press on.
love and lust and life and death intertwine,
cataclysmic in its wake, could a great calm follow in its passing?
hopeless meanderings, walk and crawl and claw...

decibels

the sound of the music playing keeps me sane.
Like your constant rebukes remind me i'm still human.

A world without the senses is a void space,
we float aimlessly into nothing, without hope, unerred, ignorant.
And yet, that minute, miniscule, little hint of a beep or a chirp,
a soft whsiper.
waves of sound however faint,
sufficient to quell the weariness reality's jagged teeth etch onto our skin.

bell

You.
Me.

Pleasantly... strange, beautiful, one of a kind.
Between us both, beneath us both, a little, little, tiny line.
Smiles abound, frowns dissolve, all it takes,
this tiny, tiny, little thing...

Fills the gaps, the gaping cracks and aching backs.
How old we grow, its tiny glow,
keeps us warm, keeps us...

Two.
Me and you.

kagoo land

skin on skin, we dance and squint, splotchy kisses,
auto pilot catwalks on the bedledge.
In lollipop fields, peppermint scents, your butterfly wings on my lips, time stops.

snuggles for pupp.

a thousand sorries couldn't cover it.
heddfucks for fun aint worth it.
skinned knees and shredded jeans,a thousand echoes,
me saying please. old and dumb,
how good i've become,how good i could be,
its not even you, its probably just me.

wheatbrans goood for the brain

sun sets, eyes roll into the back of my head.
I love the setting sun.
A sign of what's behind and what's begun.

labia majora

we attract the same kind.
they don't stay.
for those that come, they never leave.
it is us who go away.
always the case, has it not been?
the manner of which, such events take place?
a waste, their reluctance to depart,
behind us, a trail of broken hearts.
patience runs thin, around the circle and within,
broken vinyl or scratchy pin, no one ever really wins.
the games we play...

horatio had a cat and she fell after the spoon

a thousand smiles. bloom gentle, within;
the soft gentle waves; her voice.
wavy tendrils of flower scented locks,
imperfection; beauty in its true form.

heavy legs

we walk and crawl and bawl and squawk and talk and groan and moan and frown and drown and sway and play and howl and growl and fuss and cuss and scream and dream and make and take and give and live and try and die and huddle and cuddle and hug and shrug and gut and cut and bash and crash and...
we sit, we grit, our teeth, and tie our hands in knots.
And wriggle our toes and twiddle our thumbs and the sun comes up and sleep is a word and the skates on our feet are heavy and our heads are light and the blankets and covers separate us from the others, we are one and we are none, alone, not quite; we aren't.