Impulse

A knife presses sharply on the artery of life,
forcing meritless prayer from chapped lover’s lips.

Raw breath riots through sex-scented hair,
mixing with the wine spilled in their haste.

Painted Faces on Parade

I am breathless with the effort of this masquerade.

I drink in the moon and hide from the sun,
pretending I never did need to breathe.

Death-masked daydreams skitter before reddened
eyelids, throwing a lavender fantasy into sharp relief.

I can bury myself in a sex-scented reverie, but
I’ll still be trying to burrow into the blackened earth. 

A pale kiss never could solidify this illusion.

Worship Me

Isn’t my skin exquisite?

Taste it. Run your tongue from my neck to my icy
collarbone. Visit my sternum and breathe in
the scents of sex and jasmine that lie there.
Venture a little lower, nipping your way to my
navel.

Glance up at me so I know you’re
worshipping this body with me.

Kiss the sharp angles of
my hipbones, being sure to
pay special attention to the scars. Lap
the salted honey that lies at the apex
of my thighs.

Glance up at me so I know you’re
worshipping this body with me.

Basic Need

The shadows in my eyes are
Screaming that I need you so much
Closer than your current state of
Slinging away
Upstairs
Kilometers away and
Thinking nothing of it
And I’m thinking how you don’t know
My favorite color or
What love means to me or
How much I fucking need you
Here
With me in this bed
Kissing me until I bruise purple under you