Petals

a sybaritic desire

to thrill you with my words

to lay them at your feet

bougainvillea petals

falling free from the stem

with spurious inflorescence

gather them and know they are for you

..

i’ll hide the thorns of course

bury them deep in palm flesh

to seraphic sting, no remorse

with blood droplets

exquisitely smeared across lips

adding

crimson

subtracting

all the reasons why

we cannot be

Syrup

come gather

all ye disciples of despondency

fine purveyors of hurt

..

come hither

and gather by my light

as it burns and inhales

your pristine pathos

..

i’ll collect your brittle bark, shedding

your crumbling edifice of self

so raw, so cherished

and with your sycamore soul thus exposed

sit beside you

seeking your sugared self

spile driven deep

a spigot set to seep

your syrup

oh so

sweet

Primordial

we cling to the underside of the earth

in shadows, eternally fixed

as the world turns

one final time

..

the stifled prophets were right

and I grasp your fingers

to enter the longest night

..

the moon has been cast off

tumbled to a galaxy unknown

Tsukuyomi at last free to dance

unshackled from his lunar throne

..

the glass sea a stagnant pool

settling with miasmic cool

ripples that once were

shall frothy detritus incur

..

we cling to the underside of the world

pupils permanently dilate

ice crystals kissing

our

pallid, primal

state

Shedding

you have taken my coat

you have torn off my shirt

you have ripped at my skin

entrails contained barely within

 

a gratuitous graze

of your sordid fingernails

in obtuse arrays

a chorus of wails

from the anguished self

 

you have emblazoned my scalp

with a thorned crown

raise me up, arms outstretched

then tear me down

 

i shed myself of you

the shards of me puncture your heels

your scars rest subcutaneous deep

yet my soul bears cavernous

weals

 

 

Centrifugal

you are attracted to my shine

watching me twirl

trying to define

such an essence, sublime

a diffident whirling dervish

divine

 

with speed the sparks fly

and you stand closer

intoxicated, i so spry

warm becomes …

well … let’s just say “deep fry”

for such spectacle

none may decry

 

but

such revolutions as they daze

shall never fortify the ways

of your haphazard, gloating gaze

 

and I slow

tipping to fall

my spinning top

a fizzing fireball

 

ignite me again

Fruit

you hang low, plump …inviting

sumptuously spawned in summer sun

fleeting fruit so tempting

luxuriant on lubricious limb

the one

should I pluck you now?

anticipating viscid juices, trickling down my chin

should I wait for fuller flavour?

as it intensifies within

i hesitate with such a thought

i spin you, stem spliced with spiral strain

observing the peachy pirouette

seasonally engorged

to please again