Masochism

Cloven hopes. This bleeding will conceal all that was longed for. Taste the silent placenta. Dripping like a stubborn rain. And with this banal motivation, The infant's serum releases all knowledge of pain.

Divest me of thy existence. And your horrid veins of twine. Certainly you must be able to see that her heart was a conception of mine. Exhume the moment from which I was bred to cater to your soul. Forever dwelling in the escape. My only real chance to evade from her vacuous sighs. The tears are drawing cold.

Dour and numb. This phantasmic dream. Colored in red dress. The sheer embrace I have patiently starved for. Fell maliciously to the floor. The seizures confess. All but an emotional coma. The strength of animosity allows me to carry on. Trust has been drained. And innocence, gone.

Cervix Bubble Gum

The skin's been peeling. A dandruff of hope. My spaces are syllables without a destination. Youth has too quickly become old.

Umbilical embracings. The weather washes around our clouded eyes. Within the sand, mercury begins to blossom. Hold on, little embryo, the pain has yet to thaw. Even memories eventually die.

Morphine lullabies. I trace my fingers against the dreams that flash upon the shattered window. The urgent wrinkles undress in front of my breath. Dancing upon the night like a comet dressed in a tail of vanity. All the eyes have been closed. And they all see my death.

A stale abortion. My wings are too equipped. You'd have to lay the sky to sleep before you could touch me.

The fetal oceans will prepare my body for rest.

Delusion Dolls

The embers, brilliant, sterile in their postweeping. Upon the mist in jars of shaken innocence. Like lazy branches swooping down to kiss our necks. Cooling us with the sighs of tomorrow. And the chills of goodbye.

The soft melting of plastic smiles.

Dust will dance around our crippled hearts. The heels of our aching souls landing selfishly on the veils. Poking through like the sun embracing the infant's spine. Tossed out of the universe; I've become a starving moth. And the hardest wings to soothe are mine.

The years have begun to wrap themselves in my arms.

Razor rain setting down upon my skin. Oh, the colorless moments resting in my recollection. Staring up to a god that cowards behind a cloud with a stuttering grin. And my love has been burned away like a virgin star. These are the ships that I've set to sea? To beckon the shore, you must drown.

How distant could forever possibly be? When her breath is safely asleep. Tucked inside like a hymen. In the depths of my tranquility.

Calm are the meadows. Now that our laughter has begun to decay. Silence is contagious once again. The sweet melody, though, our love, must not be welcomed to play. The shore has been spotted. We reach our destination today.

Saccharine

This stentorian whisper catches me before I fall. But your specious reasoning is wearing thin. My quondam happiness still seems to relish reality. Forgive me for walking away. But you haven't the strength to renovate this fragile child. I must spawn a new, irrefutable love. Maybe then I could send it piercing into your heart. Let you feel that sudden grip as it weaves its way inside of your memories. Like a leech that won't take no for an answer. Sideways down the maiden. With a little rest, you may just make it out alive. Dust off the shadows. Milk a little more of the moonlight. Wrap it tight with tears used as vellum. Tend to the suffering first. And kiss it goodnight. I'm still fulfilling tendencies that I can't name. Or place. Or begin to rearrange. Otherwise, I'd let you in to venture through as you wish. No embrace is enough to anchor this chaotic silence that I long for. The wind still screams at me for release. If I can't stem to the edge. I will never be able to be set free. One feather short. This wing is crumbling. Balance is now in destiny's hands.