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Fiery SenoritaScarlet and Gold she sways,
flicking up her skirts of ash blown grays,
stricking sparks like Firefly lights,
this senorita can dance through any night.
A jealously gaurded heart has she,
a temper made to match you'll see,
the world may frown and cry while she cackles,
but her feet! how their step crackles.
All the good boys hasten to clear her path,
when this dance is over, then they'll laugh,
at how they tried to predict her wandering moods,
and how she gobbled at all her favourite foods.
Soul striking mistresss, I saw from above,
how you destroy all in your way,
A flickering flame that searches for a place to love,
Please never come visit me I pray.
AdequateI was always worried about being adequate,
A demon of temperance in inadequacy.
I kept seeing the world as slowly but surely it made me unequally adequate,
the gay man that could never be straight, never be part of normality.
They where showing me that everyone else was openly adequate,
and i could just be understandably adequate, if i so wished.
I just needed to be knowingly adequate, just needed to be always adequate,
but I know I will be never adequate, me in my intemperance, my sulking indifference.
I just want to see who is ever adequate enough?
The Truth In LoveI wanna know the truth of love, I have seen enough of life's lies. The bridges of hope spread once, before they collapsed beneath my sighs.
Looking on with colored lens, the truth is never known. For when the box is opened, love's face is hidden, not shown.
Suffering the worst of lies told softly to my face. I know that tacky love is taken down and it gets lost without a trace.
Sweep your rose soaked lips across my ear, tell me how you really feel, not just what I want to hear.
Take my hand once please before you say you'll try, cause you take my heart away each time you say goodbye.
Whisper that you love me, it's your truth I want to feel. Let the words slip from your mouth and float the breeze across the window sill.
I know its only time, and time we have is fleeting, but you are up and done before i have even begun my greeting. I feel the world trickle down my spine each time your hand is near, but you have no truthful love, nothing that I will ever hear.
Fluttered lashesHer eyes are like butterflies,
her kisses fall soft as snow,
along the railway tracks she rides,
she's seeing how far her looks can go.
She takes her seat on stranger's hands,
trading sighs in return for smiles of lust,
the money seems to keep its cool, in hot hands,
even as the old pennies start to rust.
Faux is the fur that falls around her shoulders,
their weight a constant part of her life,
she will never be caught unnoticed,
as she runs with her lying hips from strife.
Her eyes are like butterflies,
trading sighs for smiles of lust,
she will never be caught unnoticed,
she has never found a need for trust.
I keep meaning to pick up the penI keep meaning to pick up the pen,
to write to you, to see ink run and skip,
my heart playing among the lines folded
and so neatly wrapped up in the hands of a postman.
I used to love to watch my hand move,
as it danced along with my mind,
swaying over the ocean of memories,
where i find I've missed you every minute, every day.
I keep meaning to pick up the pen,
but I just don't know your address anymore.
I am on my way...I am on my way,
the gods outside playing hopscotch,
As the train around me grinds and sways,
like a stripper with her top off.
The sky a grey murmur,
Dancing along a green corridor,
fuzzy like the lines of text I read,
on the back of another passenger's newspaper.
Butterflies are twinkling,
as they twirl through a little girl's hair,
waiting silently, kicking her heels,
against a seat none of us find comfortable for long.
I am on my way,
my heart is playing hopscotch,
as the gods around me grind their axes,
while they let me know innocent girl smiles,
as i travel to a dream, fuzzy like lines of newspaper,
twinkling under the heels of a passenger's boot,
in a seat none find comfortable for long,
Dancing along the green corridor of stripped life.
BeautyI'd rather wear flowers in my hair,
forming a delicate chain
Than diamonds around my neck,
covering my tender blue veins
For with every precious petal
and every lucent leaf
I'm a living lesson
teaching beauty can not be bought
But rather it grows and flourishes
with every living thought
Expensive LiesI sit and stare at the toilet bowl.
A guy I know is bulimic.
When we compliment him
I see the twist of agony in his eyes
as his brain reprograms it
to sound like an expensive lie
that costs him another tear
in his tattered dignity.
Friends hurry to him,
to reassure him, to love him.
They tell him how beautiful he is.
We didn't know him before,
but he's definitely not fat now.
We whisper things in concern like;
body dysmorphic disorder.
'I know you'll never believe me
but you are so gorgeous -
not just on the inside.' Not just.
And they're right, I join in,
because they are right to say it
because it happens to be true -
he is stunning. Not just on the outside.
And we want him to see himself
the way we see him, beautiful.
And I join in because
I've felt that strangle of pain
in my stomach, bowels and belly,
when someone used to tell me lies.
So I know how he feels.
Only, he is beautiful on the outside
and I'm not.
He's not seeing reality in the mirror
and I am.
And people rush to correc
Fearing MeI'm not afraid to cry
and I do it
a lot more than you would guess.
It isn't always sadness,
I just feel like I need to,
feel everything so strongly
that it's the only way
to let go for a moment
because if I hold on for too long,
if my grip gets too tight
I'll break myself,
I will break you like glass
and we will both
I am a good guy
who hasn't yet found a way
to show it,
I am a good guy
who still identifies with the villains,
hides everything important
anything to throw you
off of my trail....
and I don't know why,
but I am trying.
Maybe I think
that if you could see me,
the real me,
you wouldn't want to look anymore,
want to be anywhere near me,
and the idea
that I can't add up
to be enough for you,
to be enough for me,
is so fucking heart breaking
I can hardly fathom it.
I can't say that it doesn't hurt
because it does,
it hurts a whole hell of a lot,
I've come to depend on pain,
to befriend misery
A Kiss not Forgotten (a special tribute)Like a frost spread across valleys silent and dreary,
ever my longing lost in shimmers of shadow & wind
And days bled into years, the seas became deserts
But thoughts of thee would not perish
Thru memories untamed I staggered far and long;
upon solemn nights lit by the torch of your soul
O’ how deep I miss your fragrant cheer ..
Of warm evenings shared across Lake’s reverie,
watching horizons journey into Autumn’s dream
— wherest our hearts once bloomed a fabled sky
Those passions shared will forsake me not
Lest the Moon would bestow solace upon my ache:
I will lay marooned, haunted by thy seraphic-figure,
Or the ever fleeting caress of your gaze ...
So my soul shall yield to this mythic abyss; –
as I peer from my carriage to Nirvana
And thou away, from my arms, the Sun weeps
Unto eternity—my dear beloved, we are entwined
Forever our footprints cast in golden firmament
A kiss not forgotten in a ballet of light softly falling
I now bear the want
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
Black hole BulimicThe Composition:
I birth poems — not amaranths
in graveyards — not gardens.
sows seeds of doubt
into skeleton weeds.
A farmer plucks the bones
from Apollo's hyacinth; his
I binge on broken
cracked collectors of rocks,
of pebbles kidnapped
from barren beaches:
where crooked kings
buried in books whose
pages creak to crickets
in an abandoned abyss
of an attic—caskets on
an antiquated shelf. I
choke on the dust and
twitch in recoil.
The bickering sky
A cloud coughs—
The clock's scythe hand
swivels to the beckoning
twelve. Spastic ticking—
each bleak stroke
of a midnight heart.
The sundials do not work
now. The vampires know
I kill poems—
as love for summer fades.late morning-
there's the tease of
snow in the clouds,
in the air, and the trees
have finally lost their
the sunlight is damp.
alters the room
as it graces my skin,
and for once
i don't wake up right away.
instead i lay
between my memory bitten
sheets, and i think
about all the times he said
that he hated winter.
i don't remember
when i began to love it,
and i don't care.
nothing can shatter that.
obligation steam machineas always
grinding the cankerous
of your cognition
until the lack of compassion
leaves you unlubricated
seized frozen bound stuck
only then the machine of
your fears will burst to steam
squealing to suckle
at the genius of my
the unsung soiled hero
of middle-class ferocity
savior of the undeserving
winding slowly deftly dying
martyr to the self-justified cause
What is this Ticking.Ticking, Ticking, Ticking,
this watch, the clock, the sky, they tick,
wandering I catch simple minutes,
striking I stumble over slime coated seconds,
Tock, tick, tick, ticking, tick,
Oh mouth ridden in guilt,
pasted with fuzz, it goads, it writhes, it festers,
Oh sweet merciful time, Bitter unforgivable Joys,
Damned in the thundering tempest of impetuousness,
Damned in the wicked wings of crooked smiles,
Damned in the line for lost guilty hopes,
Damned in this life of pain, tearing,
Tick. Tick.. Tick... Tick.... Tick.....
Loosened these chains are bound to get you,
as all time do
Crown of ThornsShe wakes up with red staining her pillow
and the taste of blood like iron in her mouth
It stains her teeth and leaks from her lips, and as she
rinses her mouth out, she can’t help thinking that
it’s better than dirt and ashes
it feels like she’s wearing a noose
of broken promises and shattered glass
that tightens around her throat with every day that passes
She nails a smile to her face
and doesn't let herself think the word dying
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More