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SorrowI feel it. Water, salty to the tongue, fills up the cup
cut into the space in the hollow below my sternum.
It fills to the brim, flowing from nowhere, and overflowing
it spills into and over my veins. In waves that ebb and thrust
in the canals of my nerves, the water rises to my brain. It
sinks down into my legs, buckling my knees in the force
of its weight. The tide is rising, and I am made an ocean
in the form of a man. The water trickles down from the corners
of my eyes becoming a channel for the ships of my grief
to sail out into the world that does not recognize the man
I am. An entire ocean bubbles and rolls behind my face.
A slow steady wave becomes a beast that cracks the green
glass surface of my sea. In the wash that sweeps
my sandy skin, in the sheen that shows where water once
rose, the man is lost in the wake. I break.
GnatsMy mind is buzzing like a million gnats
swarming over the fruit of my thoughts.
Though the mouth of one gnat is small,
together they feast on the flesh like the fangs
of a salivating maw. Obscuring the luscious
globe of imaginings, the zipping and zigging
waves of annoyance that no amount of
swatting at nothing, or nervously rocking
eat at me.
PebblesLittle by little the flint-stone of my soul is worn away into whatever time will make of me. Am I destined to be another pebble in a shallow stream, or a blade like those of ancient dark eyed people? Am I destined to weep at the loss of my being, or will I be honed, sharpened, a thing with a purpose? One more stone is skipped across the pond, but in the depth of the pool I find myself sinking.
It's Pretty Humid OutThe sky is layered in consuming grey,
like a balanket on a day too warm for the covers.
The patchwork sky is quilted in the cotton fluff
of the grey that stagnates the air.
I languish on a couch meant for lovers;
alone, all I have is my bare shoulders to hold.
It is not the sweat of passion that dampens the folds
of the mute brown cushions, but the stale air of inactivity
condensing on my skin.
I lay in silent stagnation, no wind to stir in me
the breath to move me into action.
Without warning, the grey quilt tears.
Rain taps on the sidewalk like fingers tap
on a pane of glass.
I am up and running,
down the stairs.
A WispShe is menthol on my tongue, minty
with flashes of green that tickles my eyes
as I fight to keep from blinking.
Her kiss burns like the cherry of a cigarette
held firmly against my quivering lips; ashes
are all that she leaves in her wake.
She rises above me, a wisp,
wrapped around my finger tips.
I have no choice, but to breathe her in.
She fills my chest in the span of every breath,
like a tide made of smoke, rising and falling. I have
no choice, but to inhale and taste her on my tongue.
INSOMNIAIt's like trying to drown, but
Not being able to let the water take you;
Swimming is out of the question, let me sink.
Oh what it must be like, in the deep blue and
Murk of the rest that comes with sinking.
Not even the water will pull me under;
I am denied the peace of letting go.
All night, I lay awake hoping to let go.
You're not sorryYou're not sorry
For what you did
You're not sorry
For what you did not
You're not sorry
For what you caused
You're only sorry
That you got caught
Tearing Apart at the SeamsI look to the sky and see your name
Written on a black ink canvas.
You are a cacophony of stars
Wishing they could touch the earth.
Written on a black ink canvas,
My words scream for release,
Wishing they could touch the earth.
I become something that does not exist.
My words scream for release,
Tearing themselves from my mouth.
I become something that does not exist --
It feels like I’m dissolving into dust.
Tearing themselves from my mouth,
You are a cacophony of stars.
It feels like I’m dissolving into dust;
I look to the sky and see your name.
After the FallWhere teardrops have fallen
flames will also rise,
they are invisible angels
obvious in demon eyes.
We Set SailsWe set the sails and leave behind
Old lives we don't want anymore.
"Fortune waits at another shore"
This promise is on every mind.
There's a preacher, an alcoholic,
Only within booze he finds God.
Fights his demons with an old rod
While he screams: "I'm a good Catholic!"
A woman with lost reputation
Is learning now to sleep alone.
She has never been on her own
During her years of exploitation.
See this man next to the old rail?
He wears scar patterns on his skin,
Remains of atoning a sin.
During the nights you can hear him wail.
And the crew is just as worn down
As the ship they are sailing on.
They all fell victim to a con,
The reason for their permanent frown.
As we travel across the sea,
Only failed characters on board
And two stories left unexplored,
I wonder: "Why are you still with me?"
The Old Man's StoriesHey old man, pull up a seat,
get comfy and tell me a story.
Tell me about how it used to be,
tell me about those days of glory.
Tell me all about those classic ladies,
how they always maintained a state of grace.
The way they always smelled like daisies,
and always had on the most pleasant face.
Tell me how those ladies revered their bodies,
and the way to get in was earned with respect.
You called them lady, they didn't answer to hottie,
anything less they would flat out reject.
Tell me all about those bold men of character,
how they lived lives of virtue and common sense.
How they stood by their morals and didn't stagger.
Taking only what they earned, no sense of entitlement.
Tell me how they managed their priorities,
"A man don't work, then a man don't eat."
How they took care of their responsibilities,
the family came first, then maybe a personal treat.
Tell me all about the innocent youth,
and how they didn't mature before their time.
How they only knew to live by the truth,
Cigarette Paid DebtsA roadside dime-dancer, porcelain skinned,
Donned a skirt far to short and lay stinking of gin;
Her hair, chopped and inked,was knotted and greased,
Living on the penniless men of the streets,
Looking to woo an old wealthy escort
To make up for lost time and late child support.
And the slick-back black daddies, they came and they went,
Paying for bittersweet dances with stale cigarettes,
And the winds roared and breathed, kicking up the dust
Around the girl with no love, but plenty of lust.
AimlessI gaze at the sky
And I wonder why,
The clouds, piled up high,
Daily, keep sailing by,
AshesWhat am I to you but Ashes
A destroyed version of my self
Fighting battles ever endless
With no fear of downfall
A reputation blown up
In a flash
Pieces scattered ever vastly
Searchers try but then halt
What am I to you but fallen
Tripping over my two feet
Like a broken compass
No direction except south
A life ripped up
By mouths flapping
What am I to you but worthless
A toy with no fun
Tossed away forever abandon
In a trunk of torture boundless
An opinion disrespected
By many far and between
Killed off quickly no compassion
A sign of certain defeat
What am I to you but Scratches
Marking up you perfect door
Causing renovation costly
And Hating your new decor
A depression yearning
Good or bad
What am I to you but gone
Killed off in season one
Forgotten quickly unimportant
Ratings higher since depart
A poet lost in words of sorrow
Considering his opportunities
Soon to be another forgotten
Last to leaveThe park is dark tonight while I'm drinking,
the shadows of friends have long retreated.
Bright orange city lights tinge my thinking
Lying in the grass alone, defeated.
My bottle now empty, discarded glass,
no longer a den for spirits and mirth
sequesters the moon on the dying grass;
an icy blue light for unworthy earth.
The vodka I drank still teases my tongue
while cold night air penetrates my clothing.
Salty bitter fire between each lung
Keeps me warm from the cold of self loathing.
The park is spinning as I try to leave,
but I fall back down to my knees and heave.
Keep in Touch!
^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