You Asked My Thoughts

I gave up on time,
kept getting stood up
by the reaper.
I was left sitting at the bar,
at all the wild hours in
high heeled boots 
and fishnets, 
corset and that 
skirt you like
slipping your hands
underneath.
Could I fuck you
in my sleep,
just the way I like it
and confess secrets
in the morning
over coffee
and the sound of
slippery rain?

Blues Hunger

And the blue moon, 
with a little quiver, 
shook herself from
the rafter sky 
and fell asleep
in my third eye
after drinking all night, 
waking up with a hangover
that felt like
the grand canyon
trying to squeeze
its insides
into her head.

Dine with me and
eyes open wide and waking,
breathing all
the way down
to the toes
and through
the molten earth.
Devil dances in front of us
and tonight
was an evening
to enchant the blues
for a time
with hunger and delight.

Throat of the Dragon

I feel on fire,
electric with light.
Quite a quirky feeling,
sex and death,
phoenix ever rising
out of my head,
dragon breathing
through my throat.

Yet there are such
vacant moments,
silence sweeps my days,
my spirit
outside of my body,
swinging round the ethers
with my brother,
and then a shudder
goes through me
and I awake,
back in the “real”
and sadness
sinks me in her sand,
then anger
rides the storm out

and I sleep again.

I Crave the Rain

And I had tried
to write out
the pictures in my head
of you
to keep you here
through the eye
of a camel’s needle.
I sloshed through
words and hurricanes,
blues and opiates,
whirlwinds and ocean waves,
big thick mistakes,
tastes and tasks,
the angels softly
treading
with heals first
into the void,
breathing so heavy.

So much pain
loss and suffering
drenching me
to my bones and beyond.
It didn’t seem to matter.

I form crumpled up
words in my mouth
while boys and girls
sleep in late
under my covers
and I stare out the open window
until gushing,
the syllables form themselves inside of me
and then burst forth onto the page,
teething on
birthmarks and tits,
we swim towards
the surface together

but still crave the rain.