i want one

Dexter love

I wish Dexter was my friend in real life. 

Communion

If I tore my chest inside out,

tempered my fingers with glass and

cracked open my heart, what's the admission

you'd make for a peek?

Can you penetrate, elbows deep, relishing its warmth, kiss my slick spot,

remove gangrenous tumors black like ink 

and smile,

tenderly covering each bruise with your lips?

If I whispered in your ear, dipped in blood, would you

immediately look for a spotless sink? Or will you hold my hand

pressing into me for a better look? Would you

could you let our scent linger, mingle, become one before

excusing yourself to the little girl's room, announcing me

unclean.

Here I am dripping come stand by my side. Come

near come close come see come can't you fucking come.

I will sear you open, bandage YOUR wounds, kiss your pumping veins

collect the pieces falling far behind and press them in that damned

book of love we both left to rot in our shared torture chambers.

Come undone before me and I'll hand you the key. Press

your breast to mine and listen to the rush, scream my name,

and I'll bottle our shared tears and drink from them

eternally.

good grief

A friend of mine said I look like Otep. Aw. I love her for this.  Made my day. What a little flatterer. <3

in cold blood

The tree outside my window
leans to the left
banks to the right in the
heavy-handed wind.
It appears lazy or complacent as
it sways back and forth.
Graceful.
The wind beats around its limbs like
an angry lover.
It waves at me. I wave in return. Wait.
I don't want to leave a bad impression, it
may think I'm crazy.
Unfounded.
I wonder how it stands up
to the onslaught as the gale
picks up, turns violent. The heavens
above look down, dark with revolution.
Sinuous clouds reach from the sky.
My heart tugs, willing me to go out;
keep it from harm. I do not.
I am afraid.
My inaction may leave a bad impression,
the tree will think I am thoughtless.
Wooden.
It stands its ground amid the hell
falling from the sky. I watch in
horror as the tree leans to me,
reaching, imploring.
In wonder I watch as shiny, green leaves swirl in
unison finally breaking free from its mother's
firm grip; like a baby's tenuous first steps.
With a heavy sigh, it is over.
I approach with my head down knowing the
tree does the same.
Me with my shame, the tree and its storm.
After collecting shattered, scattered
leaves, I place them on the ground around
the base as an offering.
From the porch I risk one last look.
Twinkling in the sun,
I swear, the tree,
it waves at me.

two of my favorite things

Oh, and Brunettes. Cannot forget about Brunettes. 3 of my favorite things.

boy howdy

I am just blank these days. Jet-lag-move-let-down.....so, pathetically, I will post the easiest means of getting my love, hate, angst, and utter bullshit across through pictures. Sad. Forgive me Blogger for my Tumblr Sins over the next few days.