•September 9, 2011 • 2 Comments

Just a dream.

brushing past the painted, bloated faces of strangers
my heartbeat throbs in places i should be ashamed
of…if i only had a dignified sense of shame.

that need
feverish inside of me

as i exchange formalities with the attendant.
concealing the lust approaching meltdown status
within my veins

sliding inside.
i clutch the fabric of my dress
in anticipation.

what took so fucking long???
he demands.

i give no words, but slide into him
our lips fused to the very core

i slip the lock to greet those who
trespass with the *occupied* sign

his hand over mine, sliding the lock back
toward *vacant* with a defiant grin

let’s make this fun….

hot lipstick smears against your neck.

i want him to fuck the very life from me.

i want him to make me come.

i want you

“fuck me.”

i am begging him…



show me what you’ve got

hiking up my dress, sliding my panties to the side
his hands wrap around my neck with that vice-like grip
shallow gasps for air
stabbing me so deep inside

fuck yes.

Legs wrapped around his waist
as he delivers the final blow…

Erupting inside of me
clinging to him tighter as I milk his cock
for all its worth

screaming within the silence of his restrictive palm
now covered with my saliva and dental imprints.

collapsing into me
taking in my scent a final time

i pull away
straighten my dress

smile deviously at the smeared lipstick we both

be discrete.
feeling your warmth inside of me.

like the teeth mark tattooing your palm
this is but a gentle reminder…

sliding through your fingertips
in a hangover of quenched lust
we depart.

whispering to me.

you know where to meet me next.

There Isn’t Enough Time. . .

•March 19, 2011 • Leave a Comment

It’s 4:00 AM.

There are sparks in my brain: I can feel the electricity within the synapses and neurons make their exchange like static flying across telephone wires that criss-cross and intersect inside my head- thought after thought after thought shooting past, connecting yet its all too fast for me to catch- but I feel it.


The chemical reactions that occur within us, like clockwork they keep us in check. An intricate design so frequently overlooked, because it is just supposed to happen. I keep thinking about life: how short it is, how little time we have here, how small we all are compared to everything else; compared to the rest of the universe we are nothing, barely even a blip on the radar. Compared to stars and planets and gases and elements we’re just teeny tiny little things that are here for an instant and then we fizzle and die, and everything else just keeps going the way it has for billions of years.


I keep wondering how on earth I am going to accomplish everything that I want to do in such a short amount of time. The brain is a funny thing.

Thoughts are funny.

4 AM is funny.

I’ve always liked this time of night: it is a time that I can own, here and now. It always seems like anything can happen at this time: like toys can spring to life or little elves can come cobble your shoes and no one would bat an eyelash or think anything of it because it would all be perfectly normal and acceptable ”it is 4 AM after all” they would say, and then they would yawn and close their eyes and forget what they saw. In the morning they would drink their coffee and tell you about the strange dream they had in the night. I used to think that as a child. That there was this magical hour my stuffed animals would breathe and walk, carry out their secret life because it is 4 AM, I should be sleeping…but I would be faking it, and taking in the surreal life of my toys, and at times I wished I could be a part of that world.


For one moment I could sit and have tea with Big Bunny, this enormous brown bunny I received for Easter. He had an orange bow, and I think he hated that gaudy bow as much as I did. . .yet I was never allowed to take it off of him. Maybe that’s why its so special; the silent morning hours where most are asleep or in dreamland… nothing is really real, its like a living dream.




•October 24, 2010 • 1 Comment

I gave up yesterday.
The hope of the innocent I no longer pray.
When you breathe my way
I choke on the dirt spewing from your
tainted tongue

Breeding within the womb I willingly will take
the likes of you deserves every ounce of
the essence within me that I name betray

Invasive you begin
the webs of you latched into my weakest membrane
It is only my lack of immunity
Never this.
Never this.

How do we begin?
Like a predatory beast, simply with a poison kiss.
Show me the best you have, I need to be impressed
I want something more
Show me the way.

Take me apart throw me away
There really is no more
Inside of me the light of you is just a dim, vacant hole
I need no part of you

Swing from the sinewy synapses where you once held
fortress inside of my mind
I cut the lifeline.

Tell me how it feels to drown in the filth
planted within the heart
You wanted to be mine

Inside of you.

Lidocaine Burns.

•August 28, 2010 • 1 Comment

Inside the abscess of the wounds I care for so meticulously
because they are my own.
Injection deeper this time as I take the razor
and wait.

Wait for the toxin to override my reflex to stop.

Voluntary impairment.
I need this.
It makes me strong, invincible.
If only for a moment.
The hero in my own mind.

Digging in, no pain. Only crimson lines staining my
skin. Perfecting the illusion I need to remain strong.

Each scar reflects a battle, even if the war was declared
by my own actions, my own words, they are mine
Battle wounds I perfected, scarring so viciously
Every downfall I drown poetically as a weakness, one of many faults
I chalk up to a harmless vice

No cautionary tales of violence
I breathe and my fate dismembers the dreams created
when I was alone

Tossing the syringe with little regret
One last dedication to the one I love
How deep can I go this time
before I have some minor reflection of the word regret
It is a dare, a game I admit.

How numb shall I become before I find that life gives more
If you want to shine

Deeper still the stainless steel wagers
I feel nothing, only a spectator watching my lifeline run

When I am numb I find my strength but it is not my own.

Crashing into walls

•May 16, 2010 • 1 Comment

Catastrophic disaster scratching my irises like acid
the sound of metal battling metal igniting the fuse
of tragedy on this day as I held your hand and kissed
you with the promise of eternity, etched with every

A minute changes everything.
the truth of this, my regret my sorrow flashing
brightly like an atom bomb
our fate encapsulated in tragedy such as this
we fall apart
flesh torn from bone
arteries severed from the impact alone
to see you like this
magnifies how human i hate we really are
my nightmare amplified in technicolor as your blood
dances almost poetically
fatally, like Gene Kelly at his final show

Metal crashing into asphalt circling heaven
as we fall
a coin toss, we must have lost


Our fate is not for us to control

unconscious we both fall, in a haze of smoke and
creeping death i find your hand
lifeless in mine
I grasp you tighter, hoping to revive.

in this moment I know I have lost as I free
myself from cumbersome restraints
to feel you one last time
blood-stained i press into you, hoping my heart
is enough to bring you back
pressing my lips to your eyes, lifeless and vacant
shaking you, hoping to revive the precious life
fading inside

giving you my breath.
offering you my life.

to no avail

my heart breaks.

My life fades with yours

Closing your eyes.

Ending my life.

When you leave.

•May 2, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Traces of you I still taste

When you leave.

Underneath the black light moonlight I find your shadow and

shake you clean.

The stains, the tears in your silhouette….the scars that are a little you,

a little me.

I kiss each blemish, because it is you.

When you leave, my heartseams burst just a little, uneven cuts

trail down my veins inky black and full of pain.



And you love me still.

You never leave, although it seems I have replayed that moment to infinity.

With each kiss, every unspoken moment that is understood

You fix me, make me right in the heart again.

Even when you leave.

If only in my worst of dreams.

Last Night.

•March 21, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Kissing me gently, you remind me each breath
is a gift, and most certainly my last.

Take nothing in this life for granted, unspoken yet clear, as
your hand slips through mine.

You know our mission, as do I.

Staring down the barrel of the gun.
I replay my childhood memories in my mind, the favorite ones.
Easter Day glimmering purely like it were yesterday.
The white gloves I wore, the pretty blue dress…searching
for the bounty of chocolate bunnies and badly dyed eggs.

A constellation of nightmares proceed much to my displeasure.
This isn’t about you.

An island.

The forever it seems plane ride to our destination.

I am there with you.

One goal. Remind that superficial fuck there
is much more than this.

The Latin girl speaks to me like I understand, and I fake it.
I know what I am supposed to do.
We pretend like we are friends, and the years have passed since
we last met.

To end ones life, seems so harsh…really.

Sharing a cocktail with my victim, laughing at her brainless stories.
This alone proves to be a form of torture, and I am certain I’ve lost a few
I.Q. points just listening to that cunt babble on.

I focus only on her lips, I bet they taste like cherry.

I hate cherry.

Whispering to her now…

Confessing my long-time crush, lust and need to feel her.

Finding my target beneath me, this was far too easy.
She is speaking to me, twirling her fake hair as I press into her
fake breasts, all I envision at this moment is what her surgically
altered face will look like after the shot gun caresses her
and leaves her jaw less before me…
Kissing her slowly I remind her words can be overrated.




The empty cartridge from the 12 gauge transforms her face as methodically
as a surgeons scalpel.

Just as I played it out over and over in my mind, there she is,a disfigured mess. A
plastic beauty lies jaw less and apparently in agony as I wipe her blood from my face.

Death was never the objective. She was meant to suffer endlessly, in her own perceived ugliness. Such a price paid for artificial beauty, must end in tragedy..a reminder that nothing is promised, nothing lasts forever.

Least of all, beauty…no matter the market price.

Picking up the fragmented jaw of the reality TV queen, I smile, simply
relishing the fact she is unable to do just that.


Holding her expensive orthodontic work enthusiastically, I place it in her hands, like it was Christmas day, and I just gave her the best present ever…with the biggest fucking red bow on it.

She is mortified and attempts to scream, but her severed vocal cords prove this to be a challenge, and she just wheezes prophetically in objection  None the less, her eyes tell all. The pain, the fear…the helplessness.

The fear that she must live the rest of her privileged life like that of a circus freak.

Then again, if one were to scrutinize her life before, the circus was always a prominent part of her life.

Now it just loves her a little less.