slave
scarlet rooster crows
death S O L D
to the highest bidder;
barbiturate bitches
perched in slumber rows
emulate visual inhibitions
of Kama Sutras as the “I’s”
of the un~naked
grunt Ketamine dust
masturbating to hymns
of opportune wonderlust;
as the scent
of sandy musk(s)
transcend into psalms
of rustic dusk
striations in the form of V’s ~ plead, tear jerked
to be stroked,
provoked,
invoked;
bad hits from a bad fix
she pants, she digs
vaginal scorpions
from her shallow womb;
harems of virgin harlots
they ~whisper~ to her:
‘Curanderas‘
shattered witchy women
clothed from eye-to-toes
ageless tattoo’s of turquoise’d turtles
translate biblical kismets
at the rupture of her
hymen
she bleeds deflowered *Amen* ~
I want my maggots kissed
epidural.
I feel nothing.
skintiments
are like
a jigsaw puzzle;
I cannot interlock myself
<———————-back
—->to that copious landscape
where mad cows &
blind crows came to
graze and perch upon;
& once upon
I was that
unvarying pain
reflecting
off your tongue
where you spat
tears of saliva
’cause you refused
to irrigate my bushes;
you are numb inside,
so you say, then you say,
I’m a tokophobic
’cause e-v-e-r-y-thing
you deposit in me
there seems to always be
that jewel encrusted scalpel
assembling upon my virgin flesh
resembling
slut digging maggots;
burdens
terminated,
excavated,
disposed
in a doggy
bag;
then you say
you’re empty
inside,
then you
have a cigarette,
change the channel
on the HD
as if your fucking misery
is all my fucking fault.
but
& still
I feel nothing.
just like those
“in-labor” mothers
giving birth
to fucks
like you.
Poem #36…(thank you Frankie Valli)
.and big girls don’t cry.
whiskey
diamond
teardrops
plunge eternally
from my cunt ~
she weeps bittersweet
for you;
I’m 80% proof
[20% denial]
that my clit
is capable
of moving heaven
without
the gentle fondles
of your tongue and
fingers ~
‘big girls don’t cry’, so you once said
when you left me
desperately
suckling your cum’s residue
off my heartbroken tits;
the twins miss the subtle
of your hands and
mouth;
and ‘big girls don’t cry’,
I dare to echo you ~
I wish you could see me now,
how disappointed
you’d be
sinking me
to a level
of no shame.
.pale shade of misery.
and the taste of you
remains
red raptors galloping across my tongue
sprout de-feathered wings
of salted sulfur
shedding barbed wire scales
w/ tooth and nail
off my flagrant skin;
you licked my cunt
then kissed my lips
so how deep
did my love go?
I want to make out
w/ your mouth
and have you scream
my name
in agony ~
it’s midnight
and my bedside
is empty
for I have a broken face
that I cannot piece
back together
but I can paint the thrashes
where ‘X’ marks my grave
the way leopards
paint the spots on their skin ~
tell me, Sir Demon within,
when we meet again,
will you stitch up my heart
so it’s no longer jagged
in two. . .missing wires?
And please,
don’t touch my face,
this pale shade of misery
is hard to find
in a drugstore.
~ Cuervo Fire In My Blood
v e
semen throttle thrust o rdose
white crotchless panty’s
hang on the [clothes]line
leaving the battered
of dildo zombies
preparing for the next flesh war
under a pink mushroom head sky;
~
I am a one woman,
a~sexual
in my southern comfort
cunt-try
no amount of Jack Daniel’s
can drink away
these bluegrass tears
while hooded gators
snap at my feet, and
cuervo fire burns in my blood;
~
he once reigned under my body
with his silver flask tongue
he said he’d take me to church
if he could put a ring
on my va~Gina
and not on my finger;
his cigarette ash lush
still lingers carnivorously
when my thighs part
and kiss the sky;
~
I swallowed
this shallow and dense grave of ours
after you castrated
the bull who sodomized my parched womb;
eventually
I grew our little piece of birdcage heaven
on my tongue
and we frenched kiss our wings
to Paris via a tourniquet
dipped in cuervo caliche
the color of rustic earp blood.
the Devil, too, comes
his body quaked
and shuddered
as he watched
the distant inferno
melt the flesh
off her Angelic face;
he comes instantly
on his hand, spitting
fire demon semen
into the recesses
of Hell
death, in the Devil’s eyes,
had never looked
so deathly pornographic
Dead Head Metal Banger Bitch
dead head metal banger bitch
and you slam danced
far beyond the crevices of my soul
turning my bright days, black
turning my blue nights, red
fucking my equilibrium, grey
leaving my body hollow
to wallow in self-cum whiskey
and Satanic crack
and I don’t see the end
only you coming back
and back coming back
like a sightless uroboros
de-fractured by the cheap
of your Devil’s blow
not knowing which way to go, except
scarring my re-birth from Christianity
as we in turn took turns
fucking our noses dizzy
until I had visions of Miss Lizzy
carrying a bouquet of crucifix axes
in an array of multi-blood-hued colors as
I leaned across the fleshed fields
of your fleshed lips and spliced your mouth open;
and you kissed me deep into an erotic sleep
and there you smiled clothless beneath
the orgasmic rain
of my communal blood
showering over you, with you
wearing only my foreskin as your hat
Hell Hath
I invoked
the inner of my clitoriam
from its slumber
in a soiree of black magic
instilling the use
of voodooism
fury and pins
that pierced deep
into your phallus;
your blood cum excrement
seeped gallantly onto my palm
and there I read within the towering eye
the dynamic of your curse,
and there my eyes wept
as I soiled your foul
over my distended lips
and inhaled the diabolic
of your vapor lust;
and hell hath no fury
like a mistress scorned
from the infidelities
of your connubial bed
DIVA of DARKNESS 