Lolita, the tarantula.

Her ten year old jaws
Slide sly behind her legs
I know what she wants,
What she always wants
The hunt

A rosy blush
Alight beneath old bulbs
Midst shadows of brown hair.

Sometimes I wonder
Who is the master, really?
She is wise enough to tell me,
Silently, with a high head

And a stiff pose.


Act II

I do not deserve;
I am not worth;
I do not belong,
With you.

Ironically, the comedy
Is that none of this
Is your fault…

I walk a tightrope
Leaning side to side
I know exactly where these
Silver hairs spawn.


10 PM

It seems one of the most
changes to my personality
must be
Recognizing and accepting

Since, as if, phantasmically
I yearn to merge with
anyone, and everyone
within my path.

Your definition of merge,
of course,
is your discretion.
I’m not of a mood
nor in the business
of discerning secrets.

(Not yet).


Old Love Letter

I am the illusionist, the fantasist, the scientist,

The archaeologist turning your soul pieces into gold

Pulling you together but you’re not so much a riddle

As a conquest, you are the great emerald city,

My lavish Dionysian vision, and I will drip the large

Roasted honeycomb amber rings on your fingers,

Trace the silver linings from around your mouth

And make you an emperor, if only for a time

The villain, the brazen, the unfocused and out of view,

I will dance the seven veils and leave you breathless

Glorious in my impropriety, basking under the black wing of my sin

This mind is a cellar smoking with dreams that cannot break bonds

Colored wisps twisting beyond the door, poisoning the indulger

And raising the terrible fury that rests inside.



Act I

Give me a moment
to prepare:

I will never be held
if you hadn’t read the last
I am abominable, still.

I thrive under scalding water
but not for long; as my song
is laced with lyrics of thunder.
I am sharp icy glares, pale skin
& a tongue of fire.

I am free where you cannot see
even if locked inside.
I am the wild mistake with an
ancient key.
Mold me into the role
you wish me to be &

I decide how long I play (safe).



Sad Clown

Larger than life/prismatic
Bright and burning &
With more than enough magnetism
To pull everyone in
But there’s something wrong

I represent the cold electric fence
Binding the lion
Glass walls so everyone can witness
The child with its back turned
Just to usher your attack

Because what is my purpose
If not to fuck with you
Study you
Push your every limit to its limit

Saunter up now
and quiet
To the ground
And my current will ripple through


Night Shift

Anxiously I await the dawn
For its burning sienna glow
Is my release
Choked in black, burgundy and plaid
I exhale steam

This midnight blue canvas
Beautifully silent; its language caught
In blowing leaves and rustling trees
Branches reaching out
To me




Gnashing my teeth as the vertigo
threatens to smash my face
into the laminate, but it’s 6 am and
you’re too wrapped in sleep to
Keep watch

Distrust is a disease worse than
multiple sclerosis but it does the same
Wearing down your nerves and
Obliterating the connections
Til you’re waiting for the next loud

I turned the shower on but I couldn’t get in
I couldn’t risk it
And it’s personal but I was afraid
If I fell faint
No one would hear it and I’d
Bleed out in the drain



Sword and Stone

Between life and death
here, be as still water
for I will not have my breath
to give you.

Rocking back and
forth in the night,
I become the stone, &
you the sword which
penetrates Me.

I fear someone may hear
the cries I bear you; a mewling,
suffering, ecstatic sound

Ignoring this you greet my rhythm
and your gruff words glaze my eyes:
shaping my lips into reinforcement