Some days I am
so haunted
the ghosts delight
in calling my name,
early mornings,
while you slept and
dreamt of bouncing tits
and novocaine.

But I’d rather paint your body
all over the moaning walls
of each forget-me-not room
in my house
by candlelight magic,
drape you over subtle soft
armchairs and kiss skin,
cozy up to you
against lampposts
and fuck you hard then
on sunflower painted
kitchen tables.

I just desire so much more
than this plane
could seem to satisfy,
for I had seen things,
horrible nightmares
played out in the day.
Cancer demons
ever so slowly
pulling and eating away
at the life of my blood
and soul bonded brother.

Thus now feel myself
seeking out pleasure
like a fucking madness,
a mania takes control,
the pulse within me
to try to somehow restore
light balance to
such a dark decade,
losing my dad,
then my brother,
the world has tilted strange
and unforgiving like the sea,
cant understand any of it really,
walking blind
through a wet fog
in the marshes of Louisiana,
or driving through
a blizzard to be home
for Christmas,
hard snow splats on windshields
at 4 in the morning,
slip sliding
to the baseline
thumping in my car,
sobbing like a banshee
when the moons waning.

I start sensing
death breathing on
the back of my neck,
curling up in my stomach
and taking home there,
I panic and create
impulse heavy urges and mayhem
to distract
from the tornado
in my head.
Could you hear me
through all this noise?

Deep down I just craved the light.


To strive again,
trying to splash and spill you
onto the page,
capture an
angelic nebulous
expression of a soul,
I could never
quite manage it
so I hinted around and about you,
then waltzed
straight through you
into the midnight
holding you in my head.

And sometimes you
pray weeping to the heavens
‘please don’t take him
from me’ and
the gods of war and water
take him anyway, and
you spend your days
staring out the window
hoping for rain
on a Sunday morning
that might turn
into snow
and listening to that one song
over and over
cause it makes you feel sexy and alive
even just for a moment. 

And with death starting fires
inside my house,
my instinct was not
to jump from the rafters,
howling like a fucking banshee
all the way down,
to sizzle,
scorch burns
on my skin,
fire staining my tongues delight,
I danced with your spirit,
and kissed your mouth
down to your neck
until the moans and shivers
reached the fucking moon

and back.

Pleasure and the Ghost

If you’d allow me the pleasure,
Id moan your name
in my sleep.
Lets tremble and tumble
our spirits together
a moment
and I could serenade you
in the dawn coming.
The rhapsody of intertwining,
I could barely
hold your gaze
for the wanting
and the deep seeing
down into
the marrow of you.

The ivy wraps around
my waist and whispers
in my ears,
my senses go hunting
the astral planes
for signs of life,
maybe even a river
to wade through,
drown down those

tears to the ghost.


A cacophony of
breakthroughs and break downs
hurled and twirled me
deep within
some sacred hole,
through the underworld
to dance
with the shaking bones
til dawn’s delight.

Morning came
and I dragged
and I drugged myself
into cars of lines,
stiffening shoulders,
bruises on the arms
and oh heaving breaths wrestled
pounding heads,
but also
such sweet collidings
with soft backs
and rough bodies
on a Wednesday night
in January.

Today was a
cum and coffee
sort of temperature,
and I meant to stay around,
to watch you undress,
and we could
undo each others
precious masks,
with a blush and a sob,
but Im always
called away to
the graveyard
and so fucked you
loud in the night
and then craved
to leave at
to drive alone.

The real
was so fucking harsh,
truth seemed
to seize me
into standing silence,
brain whirling
with too much,
just so many moments
to connect like
spreading swirling fires
in that
perfect dark blanket,
soft but sometimes cold,
and that was alright,
I snuggled in for
long twilight
anyway with

a smile.