Archive for the ‘lgbt’ Tag

Friday, August 26th, 2016

legs spread a summer ago

an arch that would bend space- perhaps time

with claws submerged in gemini lines

i spoke as if it were not me

she touched as if it were her

now blooms a new pirouette

and she dances so well

out of the pocket of a penniless poet

caught on her holy trinity of

a kiss, a touch, and the temptation of her presence

pages of caricatures made of ink from lustless, dry moons

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Monday, August 22nd, 2016

haphazardly spilt some cream onto my mourning coffee but

since when does dread come in a silhouettes of long waves and dead eye locks

time, oh it flew too soon

it made a fool of me too

candy waterfalls made for a combustion

of simple nights and a tapping sensation

of doubt- much like dread

it hurls me into the closest bed of my lover who slept soundly

in steady vibrations of a ticking time bomb

alas a moment for you in peace

was one were I was crowded by the ecstasy

of loud propositions and silent convocations

a city dazzled by hithered frights and broken wine glass delight

and still I laid stoic

for time can be so cruel

Thursday, July 30th, 2015

a cunning displacement of the virtues cutting into my cheek in the searing slap of millenias steaming cup of reality that sits on my top shelf
breathe to me once again the worry of your cumbersome bedsheets and how every wrinkle became the embodiment of the endeavor of desire and will
allow me to scrape the accumulation of the hours upon hours of self pity that left hunger on my forearms and the need of refreshment in the girl who deemed self proclaimed ballerina who aimed to give the audience a chance to dance upon their toes and leer
my mothers detachment sought to carve settlement and bargain into the echo of my worthless aura that has been croaking at the doorstep for a chance to step into the line that others so carelessly brushed with their curled toes and outlived in prose in two or three
a pulse that rehearsed the regeneration of the slightest feeling of an echo that sprang back the words of a foregathering that at least would speak to the inner of my bristled sleeves that are so utterly cold despite the knowledge that I have been sprung from the remnants of a crumbling ground that disguises as stable
nothing claimed but the refrain from the quivering light that sought in the future a soft lighting in a obscure japanese shop of trinkets of objects so rare they seek to lunge straightforward into la Luna but never take root long enough to become a regular day by day occurrence
instead it crumbles rapidly before i could take the soul of the quill in my viens to mark the date set forth of the desecration of the simplicity of luminosity when she walks down the cigatette littered pathway to dig into my mind the sensation of a god forsaken fuck and run

Monday, June 1st, 2015

steady state theorem of a girl in a constant hypothetical dance of discussion and speech
let me dream to the rhythms of a fake mockery in a roulette with a flirtatious, wicked smile that is reserved for the most intimate of moments
captured in a steely glare but to no hearts avail i gave my soul into the Piccadilly of your twenty miles a second mind
the one that speaks and spoke of time and changed the word of science in the ways that would make the silent virgin blush
knock me down to forty cents a piece and a summary of a past hindrance
to make it appear to the galactic sisters that it was nothing short of a fall from grace
allow me to devour the words told once of a weary traveler who godspeed sent his love in a tangerine basket full of malady in good intention
bind me to the notion of the signature of a beauty in hindsight and in western books that build up the claim that might be greater than the pen
good riddance in the former and the construct of the latter for the savior of the theorist is in the newest spice in the northeastern meadow