Undertow Angels

Cathedral candelabras

strutted through my

ever-widening

periphery

in pinstripe suits

with spats and

winged tipped laughs,

to hide the fear

of the wrathful undertaker

with whom we played

peek-a-boo

until she grew

bored and yawning

in the twilight and

ended our games

of breathing.

Sighs at the back of the neck

made me want

to spill out all

the dirty things

I craved to do to you,

but I held my moan

inside my burning lungs

and let out a giggle

instead of

the lightning

sizzling in the ravenous space

between my heart beats.

In hiding winking mirrors

the electric steam boils,

we vibrate and twitch

with the aftershock,

death's undertow angel

hummed and swirled around my head,

and though I fought her,

straining my bleeding fingers upward,

grasping desperately for a hand to hold,

mixing molten energy and cosmic chemistry,

I could not

silence her scream

that cast us down,

drugged and dragged us underground,

never to sing again.

For my father, to Mr. Gin

Arithmetic resting on bones,
the image in the hungry mirror
ate through the glass,
the testy torrential environments,
the 6 cups of stale coffee.

Festering free from
breeding hierarchies
and self-loathing
mangled minds,
clucking cosmetics
winking to each other
at the downfall of man,
basking with teething rhetoric
and blinking lights,
the melting apothecaries
nod their hurting heads
to symphonies
played out in ancient opera houses
with crushed velvet cushions,
all around the singing globe.

My dads laugh boomed and
echoed through
my rainy head,
reminding me of yuletide angels,
happy endings and spicy foods,
frolics in the streams of my childhood,
lightning trees,
frost and grins,
bear hugs and safe hiding places
away from the cold concrete.
Then with an ache and a shudder
came ferocious visions of
enacted sorrowful holocausts
set to the tune of
blazing trumpets,
dying to be reborn
in ice and anthem,
we raise our
stinging lips
soaked with dire and
diverse tears
for the loved ones lost and dead
that we remember
with sad smiles,
eyes that open croaking windows
and rusted shut door frames
of limbo planes,
scary ether monsters
playing hopscotch
while sipping our blood
if we weren't paying attention
to the crusty crucifixes
hanging in the haunted hallways
of the machine age.
Yet,
We still choose to dance
in rapture eloquence
among the delicate details
between earth and heaven.

Melting Mirrors

The mirror

melted and oozed

its own vibrating reflection,

down the walls

of my hungry,

breathing,

thirsty creation

of a haunted bedroom.

Breathing beast and fire,

morphing identities

into formula fragmented

fancy poses of surrendered apathy,

middle aged men snacking

on paper dolls,

for shame on your sadism,

syrup and sexed blood

staining my springtime dresses,

fights with fists,

cruel words

made me slump silent

though I craved to

yell out in witching twitching

wildness against

the torrent tactics

of steal and

the malicious fortune hunters

with their sickening winking

blurry eyes.

So I hurricaned myself

from my sullen undead slumber,

contorting curvaceous concoctions

of pleasure and breath,

groans loud enough

to wake the house,

along with the creaky

floorboards,

the grandfather clock

banged on in the hallway to its

very own syncopated sweltering rhythms

causing us to be late,

your mouth on my juicy hips,

tongue between my thighs and

erotic cries,

teeth on my neck as you

thrust deep and slow and the headboard

urges us on and moans out the chorus,

though teatime is passing swiftly

with the pastel parental figures

shaking their angry watches,

cautious steps I enter

through the kitchen window

and dabbing the corners

of my delicate red mouth

with the cranky crusty napkins

of the mainstream media.

The panic attacks

ever heaping their

festering sores and

religious rites down

heavy on my

pounding migraine head,

I ate through you

to the other side of

forgiving myself

for staying,

allowing you to speak

so harsh to me,

this way and that,

repeating vicious patterns

made into origami

bouquets of blue and pink,

fevered flowers

that I cant remember

the names of

in their screaming silence

so to keep me up all night,

in the alleyways,

mischief and mayhem,

my fierce stubborn resistance

for the brain beaten down

by chemicals and despair.

To the life lived out

in raspy

wicked passion,

we raise our feisty glasses

to drink in another

fucking hot and humid day.

Pant and dancing out

of coffin nightmares,

superstition sex,

mirrors and warped reflections,

we the weary waking

can change our sorrowful courses,

directions mazed

in requiem aside,

we create the future

with miracles and light.

Free

Apologizing fragrances,

the curious coffeepot

did a short

shuffle,

foot ball change
and re-called
her past lives:

snorts of limes,

lactating tits,

voices with pins,

quagmire scandals,

voluptuous sodomites,

rallies crowding

the streets

with bright allusions

to gritty truths,

ode to the mirror

and the monster

found there.

Magicians getting

haircuts

at barbershops in kansas,

coffiners leaning on posts,

taglines of sexual experiences,

bizarre antihistamines,

lazy eyes

dabbling too long

on toads bulging,

cement gods cradling

cold bloody sparkling gold,

miracles and their makers,

scotch and vomit,

flagrants and their

dope parties,

masqueraders in

bondage makeup,

whores in the alleyway,

talking bout

hurricanes in texas

smoking cigarettes

on their lunch breaks,

heaving high heals

above one’s head,

but really,

trying to blind

my eyes out,

from the fucking noise.

Oh honey,

I dreamed in truth

of subtle softness,

light touches

with loving pants

in the rhythm to the

rocking waters.

Aw come now,

be Free with me. 

Evening Rain

I hungered for the rain,

come wash over me,

and aint it funny….

life and her clouds,

his hands,

the sky so beautiful

it made me shake with joy.

At this moment,

I decided to

let the calm n warmth n

peace float in

through open windows,

down walls,

seeping through the

cracks in broken hearts

and mirrors,

found round

my room,

when the sun shone

with pleasure,

in vibrating reflection,

wanting for company,

in the intriguing early hours,

when I was awake now

more and again,

and the world cuddled up

on me different,

kinda fuzzy and

lil bit cozy,

in the dawn,

with cups of

dark roast

and the sparkling

twinkles of sounds

that lifted me up,

cardinal sighs in the twisted

trees that talked

with me,

in hope and hushed tones.

Thanks you kindly,

for hanging round,

even without words,

just stutters,

liquors,

fresh delights,

blushes in the dark,

scribblings on soft pages,

tantric visions,

leaving us holier than

we came,

with perhaps

a few bruises

along the way,

but oh,

the road was lovely

even in the evening. 

Witching Sounds

Late night cold sweats,

I woke up in

the dark and wanted

to get in the car,

drive in the crisp ghost breathing

heavy air

to heaven and back

before the sun

came up,

fucking alone,

or maybe,

if you fancy,

alone with you.

It was such a grieving

process

at times,

opening my heart again,

the rush of all the old pains

and scars waking up and bleeding,

but we must,

open back up once more anyway,

I suppose.

Hmmm, wish there was a way

to explain my mind,

that twisted peripheral forest,

wicked and slithering vines and veins,

dangerous visions,

sexual cravings

ran so deep and

overwhelmed me in ways

vast and misunderstood,

constant desire

thumping through me

so intense

I couldn’t concentrate

on these words,

I wrote down,

staggered and gasped,

in love and fucking,

lusting teeth.

I missed being under you,

and then on top, ha.

Simple desire

to be taken over,

let you posses me,

only for a moment,

goddamn that felt good.

Id beg

if I thought it would

make one bit of difference,

but nevermind.

And in the dragon’s lair,

lay in waiting,

mistress and monster

bound together

in sorcery and pain.

I always kept your secrets,

my heart expanding

at the thought,

still I hated you

for taking me

for granted.

And even in the midst

of a veracious lust

for the pleasured life,

I rose in the middle of

the darkness round,

with a rage that would’ve

screamed out the windows,

down the driveway,

up and underneath

the streets and highways,

howling out,

the viper within,

even if I hide it

oh so well.

Damn it,

I fooled you again

and then felt guilty,

lil bit sheepish.

Ugh,

I never could say it

quite right,

the hauntings in the mirrors

of adults,

the nightmares

of children,

who cried out for sanctuary.

I sometimes must

just weep with no

explanation,

now,

I know Im losing you,

and I loathe

myself into twilight,

until we,

if we’re lucky,

wake up again,

you holding my hand

in the rain.