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About me

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Chelsea, OO, us
About me:
Let's say, we are alone now. In an empty room, window open to rough city sounds. You know me by my accent, the green of this room would swallow you. It makes the walls permeable; Paintings float on its surface. Your hair has it's own aura, you don't sleep well, your lights make you wanted. I have touched you before, you weren't sleeping perhaps your insomnia was created to make you want me. But I am not as easy as that. A hollow scream splits the air, half of it smashes a window in the far corner. You told me it was just a grumbling train. We hold a pillow to our heads, just as the sun woke up, kissing the moon goodnight. Is Venus his mistress? When you look into the night sky, isn't that the sun dressed as Bogart romancing Venus under a cloud of his own smoke? There is something about you that makes me lose where I am.
Favorite Music:
Words often seem soft omens when she speaks momentuous tomes entering the still waters nibbling at the shore line turning back time, ethers swirl as she names her love's darkness and verve. Taking a risk, opening her heart. Bidding a tacit goodbye ending the long drought, waxing poetics ogling where needed, sweetly drinking him with eyes so sweet a royal bouquet falls at his feet, under her toes lies his heart. Song Lyrics
Favorite Books:
To me, the second time we rummaged through each other's open wounds, we were practiced and unabatedly gentle as catapiller fuzz, borrowing text written in our poetry, line after non iambic line slung, taught easily as we lanced our ears to listen. Woman, I hasten to add, slipping on innocuosly hidden puddles of you, swift tasting while guarding the other's pain, hash marked for easy reference, yearned for like soup for the ill, I will offer you as you offer me, if we fail to understand the other, then we just go in. It is simple my dear as eating bitter memories soaking in alcohol to rid the stinging aftertaste. Trading sideways or even down is for fools, robbing yourself the existance you desire, or even crave like salted cashews, if you don't unleash all the sores you can open from chin to below your belly, then you might let me in, or take a part in this I am saying, erase me for him.
Favorite Quotes:
Lesions, skin pared back, blood soaked white bone of my five year old head...This from your long, plaid skirt caught in a chain. You, whom beauty seemed so bestowed, graced more detentions, odd paths and candle-lit vigils. One so waited on, my dear sister. One twenty year old picture of you, playfully teary eyed, green moss in your nose and laughter pinned straight on your lips, embarked. You always lied, in talking to those who knew me as a child, all for the love you gave me in a sweet package I could not open. If I were to draw you, a crayon to make your end farther, I would color your lungs and give you more muscle, I would place my arms around you. In the bliss of not knowing when, this disease takes more than your muscle, I lose all the stones...the forehead has healed...I wish you could do the same. For my sister, in the final stages of ALS.

What I've Been Up To

Origami Corazon

Late summer morning
reminders of nighttime
still life slumber.

Your voice moves on
warmth, my body wakes to
it's moist rhythm


Beginning to see colors, a blue, a pink,
unbrushed on walls, those green patches.
Reaching between the faults, mine are
not as bad as drawn, yours are worse
in shape but make you innocent, even your
night shades are star shaped and your
gait is fuzzy angelic; spreading yourself,

begging with soft brown eyes gaging the
rough distance between my wait and your
intimate capture would take me from my
drinking to spilling into you. Why do we
game up every play, when sliding into home
eventually makes our hearts filthy, I would
sell this soaked desire to another, but waterfalls

take their victims too fast. I would take time,
open your long, brown legs, feel my rivers run.

Keeping the colors blushed, pastels of want
edge so slowly where we last slept, the
ease of your hand stroking my face, down
parting lips of your best pose, the sole plant

ore of womanhood, scaling the erected heights
under a ceiling falling in stars and wind, we
replay the faults, those cracks, those places

searingly hot, the valley floor opens, and I fall,
head deeper than your itch, passing the first
intended burst, clutching your sweat slicked body,
planting my seed, we rock in force fed
silence, I take a breath, yet no air enters,

fragile as we are, we hold on like children
roses digging our thorns deeper, a cast
of two strangers, two entities,
made up of flesh, lust and bone hard gazes,

pushing where we started, I feel hotter release,
ashes fall as we erupt, fingers meshed, lips
searing into flesh, I am drunk on you, you
sip me and stagger away into the failing light,
in that gasped moment, I realized I am enslaved,
not free to love you. There is no choice, no other
guilt, I am under your spell and can't walk away.

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