Heckel and Jeckle Aug 14, 2014

 

She is a different person during love-making than she is during the everyday world, the thrust of the knife causing her to change, a Heckle-Jeckel I do not recognize as one turns into the other beneath me or above me as I ride her or she rides me, more than just the moans and groans, the squeak of the bed springs, her face transformed into someone else, flushed with blood, especially during the build up when I pump her up the way I might a balloon, each thrust pushed into her fabric,, risking that point when it all will explode, this desire we need to work it all out, pushing and shoving, risking everything on the outcome, how much will it take to make her burst, to alter her, to recreate her into that other people who is not this being I know when I engage her elsewhere, the push and shove, the in and out, magically converting her into someone I don’t know, someone I ache to know, and I wonder, does she see all this in me as well as I swell up to fill up the infinite universe that is contained between her legs, do I change as much as she does, and what do we change into when we do.

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The woman in the night gown May 3, 2015

  

In my dreams, she is the woman in the night gown that greets me at the arch door, her hands clutching the candle stick as hot wax drips down onto her long fingers, her dark hair framing her serious face, the almost evil twist of her lips, the night gown barely covering the swell of her breasts as she request me to wait just inside the door, when I am anxious to go all the way in, the candle already half gone, clutched by trembling hands, she telling me to wait, not to come inside, not yet as the wax drips, leaving a trail of tear across her knuckles, not yet, she tells me, but soon, very soon, yet only if I behave.

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Life love June 30, 2025

 

This is not a life love I cling to, just a trail of breadcrumbs I still follow, even though these no longer lead anywhere except deeper into the woods, this imaginary trail, this one in a lifetime track I keep on because of what it once meant, even though it no longer does. Even with my eyes closed I stroll along it, unerringly, clinging to the memory that is no longer real, no longer tangible, yet necessary for survival, this need to follow something somewhere even when it leads nowhere, bread crumbs along this dark forest floor we call life, a forest filled with wolves and other beasts we choose not to see, looking for the best outcome when we are never sure of any outcome at all, not a life love, just a foolish hope held together by you

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Diverse Nov. 18, 2024

 

Sometimes,

Diverse is perverse

When the sign says

 Closed to those

Who don’t believe

Like we believe,

Diverse meant

To stretch the walls

Of our little world

To fit everybody inside,

But only if you accept

What is expected,

University admitting

Brown or black

But rarely yellow or white,

While the local library

Hosts show time for kids

Too young to understand

The man dressed up as

He/she/it,

Diverse being perverse

If you sign says

You can’t come in,

Unless,

We all stereotypes

Brown, black, yellow, white,

Perverse diversity meaning

You’re welcome

As long as you don’t think

Too differently,

Like we all tend to do.

 

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The forbidden fruit May 2, 2015

  

It is not a snake that whispers in eve's ear, tempting her to take down a piece of forbidden fruit, to bite into it, then offer it to Adam to devour as well, but a worm she needs to put it up inside her, to feel the fruit from inside, to taste the juice that's spills out of her, and with our open mouths, knowing the whole time we will be banished, knowing that even if we did not know what would have happened, we still would have done what we did, because we need the worm that pokes its head out of the forbidden apple, breaking the skin of it, ruining it for anybody else, the worm that crawls even deeper within, until it finds the real fruit deep, deep down inside.

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No roach motel Feb 25, 2014

 

this ain't like roach motel

 check-in and you don't check out

the place is run by angels

and she didn't have

to die to get there

 salvation perhaps with bed pans

and a sense of purpose

she knew she needed to come here

or someplace like it for years

 but was scared to do so

to let go. to give up control

to someone else only

if she didn't do it this time

she might not have survived

 long enough to get another chance

 Angels greeting her at the door

with a list of rules by which she must live by

 or risk not being able to live

 this isn't judgment nor punishment

 but a cure and she has to grip

this life preserver  tightly.

she either holds it or drowns

and she come has come

so close to drowning already

 she knows what it that feels like

and doesn't want to feel that way again

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On the street where you live

 

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