just a voice, a slow-spilling chorded forever,
gravel and sand in my words, crashing hard,
breathing out the creases, the ripping;
words soaked with giving in, the fighting fading
into all the truths that will never fall from my eyes;
the sea-stained ventricles, my rocking heart;
a sky stolen from beneath my pacing hope,
I was becoming the rain, my body sliding down the planes,
falling into the corners of his lips,
dangling from the tip of his nose,
living in the lines of his palms
and his pores were eating me alive,
drinking me and drinking me and choking;
I am not strong enough to die alone,
not with these stars in my bones,
the quiet vacuum of nothing folding me;
the dust in my veins are brilliant
and my guts are dancing nebulae,
roving pictures of stricken entities,
of time-sworn worlds, of forgotten matter,
of withstanding existence;
he doesn’t hear me now, doesn’t see me anymore;
I wove my love into the air between us,
into a noose-wish, a cold death necklace,
but, I couldn’t live in the crashing planets,
the sailing dimensions that brush by each other
on the cusp of flesh and sex,
on the edge of terror,
the shade clawing through my lungs,
a berserker mass, a holy ghost hurricane
of fear and longing and throes;
I said too much, more than he could swallow;
the logic was not faulty;
then fate crept up from his neck,
took root in his brain,
snuggled itself deep into the grey,
just looks at me sometimes
from behind its window’d prison,
sees everything in shadows and corners,
hopelessly skewed, cleverly entranced;
and it is a parasite, claimed him fully,
he doesn’t even know
that he makes no decisions anymore
that his free-ride slave driver will not allow;
and I just sleep in the mumbling,
nestled in the beat of the syllables
that drag themselves in circles around my feet,
the begging, the sorrow, the need
that I can never release,
the chains that climb my throat
and come out caked in regret and marrow,
that mangle my insides and murder all my babies,
all the little sparks of wonder that sprouted,
just clots of what could have been,
and I just keep speaking it all away,
the secrets are vapour;
I speak to the atoms, to the cells,
I speak to the darkness, to the light,
I speak to the magic, to the fever,
I speak to my blood,
I speak to my blood


I eat bullets for breakfast

and his fingers are buried in my heart,
I’m dying all around them,
beating, choking; my blood-need running down his arms,
gathering in his elbows like little, shallow bodies;
like our limbs tangled in lust -  pounding thrusts, smothered cries;
I didn’t mean to get so much of me on him,
to slather him down in my weakness;
I didn’t mean to let so much of him in me,
to let him slide into my cells like an electrical charge;
I said I could be emotionless and I didn’t know I’d lied
until I looked at his face when he came;
he was rising above me, slamming in hard;
eyes shut tight, tension building in his hips,
every muscle straining, breath caught in his chest
and the force and the fire in every stroke was changing me;
the power in his thighs stole my tongue,
I could only lay there and die quietly;
I saw him then, when he swelled inside me,
stopped my blood right in the veins;
he came hard on the beginning of a godwind exhale
and the light there washed over me, brought me to the sky;
that’s when I knew, that’s when my soul exploded
into spider legs and sparrow wings, when my skin crawled
with the damnation this kind of knowledge brings,
that’s when I knew I’d lost;
that’s when I knew he’d be the death of me 



Because elephants

Because elephants

Tags: 100happydays

Once it hits your lips, it’s so good!
#100HappyDays #summersummersummertime #bayoudreams #shiner #ryesandshine #lazymagnolia
#BEER #MondayFunday

Once it hits your lips, it’s so good!
#100HappyDays #summersummersummertime #bayoudreams #shiner #ryesandshine #lazymagnolia
#BEER #MondayFunday

Boston Shake, Bitches! 
Babygirl treated us to ice cream <3
#100HappyDays #HappydayNo2part2 #summersummersummertime #SundaeSunday #bayoudreams

Boston Shake, Bitches!
Babygirl treated us to ice cream <3
#100HappyDays #HappydayNo2part2 #summersummersummertime #SundaeSunday #bayoudreams

#RiverboatWhite wine and the final episodes of #Fringe on a rainy Saturday evening

#100HappyDays #HappyDay#2 #summersummersummertime #bayoudreams  #fuckyeahscience #dammitpeter-pacey

#RiverboatWhite wine and the final episodes of #Fringe on a rainy Saturday evening

#100HappyDays #HappyDay#2 #summersummersummertime #bayoudreams #fuckyeahscience #dammitpeter-pacey

My #eos and post it notepad totally match, just noticed! 
#100HappyDays #summersummersummertime #bayoudreams

My #eos and post it notepad totally match, just noticed!
#100HappyDays #summersummersummertime #bayoudreams

any given sunday

sometimes you think you have shit figured out,
maybe at that point in time, you do;
then, your brain starts working overtime
before you can even finish what you’re saying,
but, you’re locked in there, committed
to what’s coming out of your mouth, right now;
and then you walk away, left with a void
and a general feeling of worthlessness,
of knowing how weak you are;
then you decide nothing is good enough,
you want more, more than what you’re getting,
more than what you’ve had,
more than what anyone is willing to give you;
and you never seem to find that balance,
that in-between, that sweet spot 
between settling for less
and setting the bar too high;
so you abandon that in the face of loneliness,
in the face of your own reflection,
in the face of your undying need,
in that face that holds your desire
and you do it all over again, from start to limbo;
always knowing the outcome,
yet, wondering how you ended up there again;
and then you hurt, more than the last time,
more than you told yourself you’d allow,
and then come the tears,
the ones that stay right in the corner of your eyes,
the ones that gather, but never fall,
those are the tears that destroy you,
the ones that drown you dry,
the ones that just live there 
always creeping around the sides of your vision,
distorting everything you see,
skewing the perception of every offering
you will ever receive thereafter,
and how many times will those tears
rob you of something profound
because you can’t see straight anymore?
yeah, those tears right there,
those are the ones that fuck you up forever.

sky giant


and there will be a day when my nerves are quiet and dormant,
where I live on tip-toe’d kisses and puzzle piece embraces,
where my fingertips will make confessions to his pulse
and his hands will be lost in the frazzled halo of my hair;
he is patient with my pacing, soft to my wimpering,
strong against my doubt;
a man of massive entity, of stilling sorrow, this Giant;
stone-thrown sinner, as humans should be,
imperfect and miraculous;
warm waves sleeping at my feet, creeping in slowly,
turning my words into saltwater taffy and sunset slips;
I told him, don’t leave me, Giant;
this was never destiny, but,
I’ve fought by your side since the birth of Venus,
I’ve been in your veins before the void could speak,
my blood has been seeking, winding through the crowd,
years of searching and it’s almost there now;
our bones were the love letters,
our breaths were the passion,
and the carbon and the stardust and the atomic snap—
that’s where the heart is,
in calamity and pitch-black prose,
in spiteful withstanding, in aching whispers,
in poetic nonsense, in sightless crooning,
in all the lines;
titan of a man, rugged and marbled,
cool, velvet flesh, unwavering under my palms,
I don’t wish to capture him,
but I want him under my thumb and over my hips;
wrapped around my pinky in my razor-blind mind,
and he needs to be happy there, giddy in the spaces,
smiling behind his eyes, growling between my thighs;
wandering, plundering, chasing sparks;
maybe I want too much now,
he’s a giver, though, and I’ll have what’s mine,
what was made for me when cells walked about
and fell into each other’s membranes,
when the world came out of that gaping mouth,
the last sigh of universal emptiness
and I said, Baby, don’t forget me;
I’m a wisp of a ray of sun, but I’m shining on you,
and I don’t fall into the keys,
I have to save myself from ruin,
I can’t let you tap me into oblivion,
death-by-strings, fading by admiration;
I need you to want to be a killer,
to run me to my last breath, my last beat,
to knock me right off my feet;
and I’ll give him what I have, it may not be much;
just the hush at the end of day,
when conversations are gasps and grunts
and life is decoded with cheeks pressed into pillows,
when glances become stares and kisses become thrusts,
when the aftermath is brutal and sweet,
a second becoming, another undoing,
the silence that declares what the pores will not allow,
where days become years and years become decades,
a conquering costs a lifetime, you know;
I will pay him in evers, in a million professions,
in a trillion prayers pressed into his neck;
I was like, Sweetheart, My love…
listen to me now,
none of this makes sense,
the cosmos is a gamer,
playing and winning
and we are just human, hard-won and spinning,
tossed and turned on the axis-swivel, on the faulty tide,
drunken, waterlogged specks of dust, motes in the rays;
and I swear the sky knows,
it won’t admit it,
but, I swear that it knows


a bayou of braying soul


I bet you kiss like a volcano,
like hissing steam,
overtaking heat, pouring everywhere;

I bet your hands travel curves impatiently,
get tangled in hair,
grip hips and sink into thighs
like a prayer, like a song,
like a sweet sigh;

what if I’m alive,
what if I’m stardust,
clinging to your skin,
dissolving, running into your pores
and you’re high on time,
quantum theory drunk;

what if I’m dying,
what if my life is laying on your chest,
a moonflower blooming in the dark,
open and brilliant in the rhythm
of your heart-fate-chance smile;

I bet you kiss like a volcano,
like hissing steam,
overtaking heat, pouring everywhere


sunset in july

I fell asleep in the afterglow, the shadows spinning in my eyes;
kaleidoscope stoking, the melody murmuring, the light swallowing;
the music took my arms into the air, caressed me from palms to toes
and I bit my lip in the coming;
his hands were resting softly on me,
he was sighing into my hair as I swayed to the magic in the air,
the rhythm, the tension, the falling fast of my heart again
and every riff was his fingers tapping out the strings on my hips;
the barest touch, the wanting, lyrical possession;
his smile was a fever, set me on fire, smoked me into ash,
pulled all the oxygen from my cells and I kept dancing,
offering my body to the wave gods in tune, rapture in sacrifice,
brought to that glowing edge of death, where the pleasure is so tight
it spits you into the sky and sends you above, beyond the tip;
hovering, suspended, waiting for a collision, for a crescendo
and his grip went strong, the feathers all gone now,
I leaned backward into grace and his need was smothering me,
he didn’t speak, I already knew what he was saying,
nothing, everything…
and the heat was prismatic, a star and dust-bound blink,
his lips resting in my neck, refrain of a thousand moons;
we sank into the ground, became the sound;
we settled into the night and lived like it would never end.

Do this.

(Source: Spotify)

Tags: music spotify

the lines

and I just keep thinking of your hands,

of who they’re touching right now…

where the pictures inside are flying by,

scratching and beating against the reel,

tapping on the windows with pebbles

like a lover standing in the rain,

like a madman that can’t let go;

the whole play is sticky,

dripping with buzzing bee honey

and all the dust motes trapped

in the stinging rays of sunlight

drilling through the molasses downfall;

a nod to theatre, a penchant for dramatics;

this show of shade and silence,

the actors don’t even know they’re acting,

all-consumed with dry-lust,

dying in every curtain call frenzy;

blinking, stalling; dead weight memories,

cast-iron anvil of a dream,

God damn the hope that sat in my chest,

that damselfly that fluttered against my skin,

that fell beneath half-hearted magma apologies;

and I just keep thinking of your hands,

of who they’re touching right now…

because the Mothman still comes to me at night,

he kisses me and he makes me see red,

and I always know you’re out there, somewhere;

laughing and smiling like lemon-lime italian ice,

like plum wine heat in the pit of my belly;

you’re just there, forgetting my face,

memorizing new curves, drinking different lips,

slipping inside another body and soul;

I’m sleeping in thorns and feathers,

bleeding and choking, shaking;

and forgive me my bitter sensualities,

they’re all in my head, right there with you;

caught up in your spiderweb eyelashes,

pinned beneath your waspish hips,

my head pounding with thrusts;

then a gun went off in your spine,

and you spit so much gunpowder down my throat

that it’s leaking from the corners of my eyes

and the fire in my cheeks makes it spark

like a space-worn star giving in;

and I just keep thinking of your hands,

of who they’re touching right now…


hermit mode

i.  nothing’s changed
less than unruly vengeance, I haven’t folded;
but, the sting is cold and vicious,
flea-ridden bag of sand-slithered figurines,
lightning-sculpted wasteland wands;
all the magic is in the sky,
fluttering around like poetry and uselessness,
that’s where my eyes are trained,
on blurry images, on a slapping, repeating reel
and I’m fading into sepia-stained lighting,
armed and knee’d into a never-ending corner;
I’ll shoot you, motherfucker,
I’ll blow you away,
I’ll suck your lungs dry
and drop the beat on the table;
the bass shaking and the words fresh,
needles and thread on the record,
scratching and stitching, skipping
ii.  45
I had never known a number meant so much,
and the funniest thing about it all
is it was the exact figure,
it was the sum of every encounter,
every single moment he molded flesh to flesh,
every grunt encompassed, every spent thereafter,
every hurried departure;
he still says it is perfect,
I wouldn’t understand
and he’s right,
I’m too fucked up to understand perfection
because beauty is flawed
and I am blind
iii.  when it’s cold
speckled and freckled space,
star-coated revelations,
there’s no goddamn oxygen there,
how am I supposed to survive?
you never thought of anyone but yourself,
your space, the dust is your name,
I would have choked on it,
but I learned to never breathe there
and high tide is flaring like northern lights
iv.  mi corazoncito
Oh, I’m so deep in it and you’re shallow as palms;
I’m drinking and drinking and sleeping,
working on disappearing into songs and covers,
great big, fluffy throws and crackling fires;
I’m burning like my veins, like my fingertips,
like the corners of your mouth;
there’s a north stream in your eyes
and you are smiling apparitions,
screaming poltergeists, dropping plates
and smashing vases, breathing on the flowers
until they brown over and give in,
curl into balls of stale petal’d surrender;
sha, dulzura, your fever was raging
and I dove face first into it,
coveted that heat for my thighs,
spoke it back into your chest,
told you where and told you not to stop,
I told you yes and yes and yes,
and you never faltered until now;
there’s an ending to every start
and this ribbon is fraying,
all the threads tangling in my hair,
knotting on my tongue,
I ate the totem again,
every god stuck in my belly,
lulled into hibernation by the pounding,
smashed on the misery in my blood,
glutton-junkies, mask’d faulters;
my ancestors don’t speak to me anymore,
there’s no magic in my hips
and nothing but crows feast on my kiss