Author Information
The Gift
It is not without pleasure that I so softly drown
In asphyxiation for your delight.
It is not without regret that upon locked gaze
Realization dawns that this is doomed by chance,
drawn onwards by fate in its twisted carriage with
death at its side as the last dreamers told of the ride which
I call a trance.
It is not without longing that I lie in your bed, immersed within.
The clattering of neighbors and summer encases, pushes me further into
the secret nest where I have come to intrude on quiet hours with my hunger.
It is not without denial that our mouths intertwine, with teeth and
Open palms for degradation’s eternity, mirroring mountain pose that imagines itself to be
Eternal within the blankness of a third eye blinded.
It is not without love that I pulsate to the rhythm of
Orgasmic intervals, casual bliss, in beaurocratic dreams which jolt me awake with their
captialist undertones and restless restraint,
For the last time, when I writhe in realization that the ropes we have tied slip.
In mutual exchange I offer you my bloody heart, ripped from my chest
Draining of its force in spasms of desire to
Live.
Let the tears fall !!!
Let the tears fall !!!
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
"...I have come to intrude on
"...I have come to intrude on quiet hours with my hunger..." a miraculous line this - I thank you for its relevance, its razor aptness ~~Lady A~~
...for real. (o_O)
...for real. (o_O)
Like an ancient Mayan in need of rain.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "