mistuh briefcase man

four fifty-seven,
the taste calls
like open mouthed
baby vultures~
pushing his addiction,
checking his decency,
running
to the sordid object
of his insatiable thirst.
catch him if you can,
judge him if you must,
but his tell tale
deviance
serves as stage left
for the entrance
of miss right.
seedy rooms,
transformed
and transfigured~
the musky smell of love,
overbearing and tart~
lend themselves to the predestined
flicker
snuffed out by sweat,
cologne and cheap moscato.
two ruby reds
engulf five that's called nine
and he watches
while the inches disappear.
face down,hair tossed...
all he desires
is the fruit of her labor.
a chocolatte dream
pulled from the underbelly
of fortune five,
she tastes so good~
his secret from the hood.
yet this clandestine
copulation
is far from pristine.
she gives a fake moan,
takes the prick from the prick
and dreams of six figures
as his seed grows.

cereal mayhem

epidermis raw~
a nightingale hums a melancholy
tune
while steel kisses flesh
in a demented dance
of frenzy.
hurry...they must not know.
a sordid
lust
released to prowl the atmosphere.
chains gone,
desire heightened,
hunger ravenous.
type B flows like a river wild~
undulating its way
from the precision induced
slices
which incite panic
in granny smith.
a sordid smile sneaks
across filthy canines
as lucid images of torture
tantalize
his
libido.
once is never enough...
a climax
embalmed with the stench
of yesterdays souls,
seeks rebirth.
parched brain cells
call out,
with gaping wounds,
at a new twilight
filled with endless possibilities.

diamonds are a guys best friend

she left me...
packed her bags
and left a note
telling me
that there was no way
she would play
second.
...but she always knew
it was a love thang.
the way you waltz
into my life each year,
our nightly meetings
under the stars.
she even asked if you had
made me gay.
all the sweaty men~
i told her i used to catch.
she saw you as a threat,
no matter how i explained
my lust for your arrival.
the trumpet sounds
and my mouth longs
for your familiar tastes~
salty nuts,pink cotton heaven,
elongated dogs
between soft buns.
the way you make me stare
at balls.
she left me...
but you will always
be my summer madness.
she said this was my third strike.
...i'll give you four balls
anytime.

sunshine and shadows

the remains of a murdered quart
floated from his throat...
his seed had gone home
after eleven years.
he talked of the remorse
that kept his heart bound
and shackled...
the fact that regret engulfed his memories,
snatching away what should be fond smiles
and hearty laughter.
...he cried.
a sorrowful deep wail that no man
should ever have to release...
yet he owned it as his reward.
his mirror would be a score and one...
he weeps and weeps.
the song of an infant pierces reality,
shouting to the world its existence.
mother should not have seen,
for her plan was decimated
by a deliberate scheme.
she was captured by eyes
innocent and brown
...she glimpsed the long lost soul
of her father.
the fear and uncertainty of life
were trumped
by a bundle of tomorrow.
she weeps and weeps
for a future unknown~
yet defined by her delivery.

this moment

if this feeling is wrong
then let me dine on a feast
of my imperfections.
never has the desire,
to be held and caressed,
thrilled me~
drenched my every thought
with yearning.
to say that once is enough
would be a lie
from the abyss of never...
the soft inviting warmth
of your smile
envelopes my need
and satiates my hunger.
yet only the heat of your lips
divine
can make my soul quiver,
with anticipation,
for the gentleness of your touch...
set my mind adrift
on cool waters filled with the sights
and sounds
of your mounting pleasure.
the touch,the feel of your skin
against my tongue
tasting delights
forbidden.
fantasies throb and remain burning
as none so true
has enraptured my heart
making a home so virtuous.

silent scream

the collective soul of a nation
cries
in sorrowful moans...
panic stricken existence
beats a syncopated tune of disbelief.
possessions robbed by the power
contained in the surging salt.
alone she sits~
though many shall claim to rescue her~
needing the comfort contained
in the most simplistic of devices...
a touch.
that which once meant all,means nothing.
the only thing tangible now~life.
they wailed like a rusty trumpet,
the horns and sirens did,
and she awoke in a flash,awoke in awareness
yet dazed and secluded.
liquid hell exchanged person for person.
...now she waits and weeps.
a haunting bellow that tears at the core
and pulls compassion
from the abyss of decay.
a fragile silhouette
frozen in time by the snap,whirrr~
mind of minolta...
she is the modern incarnation
of napalm,
the essence of what is not seen.
once again the images scream
but will anyone feel?

bedroom bingo

sex had become stale and mechanical...no longer did she inhale his every beat as her own.the washboard had turned into a tub,thus,the exhilaration factor faded...then one night,as she labored under his pathetic,strokes,it happened.she looked into his black eyes and watched as he struggled...she wrapped her wretched thighs around his mid section and pulled him deeper into his tomb.he panted and pulled her locks as she latched onto his laboring libido.streaming lines of lust oozed into his ear,pushing...coaxing him to show his metal...the pit bull on his shoulder humped and ran in circles.this was his finest hour,this was his finest hour,this is his final hour...into the abyss he rode.cock strong and determined,he came and went~then collapsed,eyes wide shut.she pushed him aside and sighed.as she dialed the three numbers,she thought of aruba and smiled.

purge

i usually don't watch her,this harlot of scorn~yet this time my fancy was pricked by the skin she wore.a sad black which clung to her bones like wet tissue.scrawny and voracious,the intent of her presence was not like any other...in times past,we would dine on the carcass of yesteryear.together,hand in hand,parading down brick roads of mottled gray.we would laugh and make merry until we had our fill...at that point,i would regurgitate the paintings which adorned the cracks of my sanity.nodding in unison,our souls would agree~another pound of flesh given in return for acceptance...this time is like no other.i hunger,i thirst for that which eludes me.finality sets in~the navy flows from my veins and another child lies naked on the hardwood of my psyche.

alphabet lover

she is the beautiful angst that fuels my soul~in the midst of my pride,her hand seeks out my countenance.a smile,warm and frieghtening,beckons me~pulls me into the inky white sea which is my being...i succomb and dance to the syncopated rhythm of her mastery over me.we talk as music plays out scenes devoted to that which must be created.fuzzy...yet they glow with an intense dull pain.i know the pleasure well...the sweet perfume of vowels and phrases has become her calling card.i dare not blink,for she shall fade~leaving me with the stench of a thousand failures...so i succomb...i succomb.delight me with words devine for nothing satisfies as sweet.slowly,her gaze turns to sour cries of sorrow...she must leave again.my life will stand still~yearning for her birth once more.

the land of misfit boys

my eyes burn from a release that comes against my will.the pain sears my being and tells me that maybe the nightmare isn't leaving.the emptiness claws at me and beckons to the person that i used to be.i watch as he walks hand in hand with the one that makes all things better...the one that never seems to materialize.so i sing a song of desolation.the melody of which reminds of the times i should of been more caring,more understanding.but i was all those things and more.i became invisible for the sake of togetherness.yet i stand alone...staring out over the abyss of my nothing...longing for the touch of someone to make me forget,yet help me remember...fix me.they come again,the burning sobs and choking heaves.my mind yearns to be free but my heart...is misfit.

backwards cry

xanex...her dessert of choice.the main course of absolut and mango did nothing to ward off the demons that serenade her.it would be so simple they had assured.yet now they come like clockwork-tick,tock,tock,tick legions of them sometimes rum and zoloft does the trick-they bare fanged grins and hold intellectual bouts of chatter.some of it-to much in her opinion-about...him.that darling little boy that had dreams of running through fields of forever and learning the intricate geometry of throwing a two fingered splitter.she entertained his talks at night when she wasn't taking a drag from a blunt or choosing her latest form of alcoholic indulgence...the demons remind her that it matters not what she claims to douse the flames...her soul and mind are filthy with the remains of tomorrow...her tears stream and she reaches out to hold the child that calls her mommy yet she has never held.he wails from the pain,wails from the pain and the life essence of his tragedy fills her...crimson and thick. nails of laughter sear her mind as the demons dance and sing his name.a hand full of any prescription-she downs.he bids her goodnight as his blood stained spirit ascends.this would be the sixth and final time they would talk.the burden of what she allowed was to much to bare.