.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.
~ SunWater
for you
I snorted ajax
through my veins
injected a sewing needle
through my nose
as your nudist orbit
crossed to me
in waves of tidal blood
I’m left cowering ~ alone
on an anthrax laced beach
no shirt, no shoes, no surfboard
just a broken plated body
washed ashore,
de~reefed
dead
echo’s
of love
echo
beyond
the corrugated seashells
buoying on
vacant promises
where the sharkgulls
once sunbathed
morgue Monday
my mind
is on a chopping block ~
my thoughts
in a systematic gutter
of porn and religion ~
I can’t think straight
I can’t deviate
I can’t create
much less. . .post-levitate ~
sittin’ on the couch
watchin’ Spanish soaps
my mind feels
like it’s on Spanish dope ~
change channel
several times
only to find
that over the weekend
people got shot ~
some shot by cops
some shot for talkin’ crazy
some shot by enraged lovers
some shot by dudes ’cause other dudes were fuckin’ their ladies;
some shot ’cause deals have gone bad
some shot for wishing they had had
what had gone bad ~
it’s a mad, mad, world
a beautiful life in a big beautiful city
and it’s barely 7 in the morning
as I stir my black coffee brown thinkin’ today would be a good day
to buy me another gun
DIVA of DARKNESS 