Monthly Archives: December 2016

Salacious Itch for Strangers


Then I notice the calliope turns gears in my mind

rotates bangled ferris wheel tires

beguiled by blinking jewels

singing a mournful dirge on the cheeriest of tones

and I’m intoxicated, sick high above the world

droning to this moaning tune

until reality pulls me under again, releasing me into the festive outfall of the circus parade

-wish I could trade –


I’ll show you mine if you show me yours

we can feed off each others chests

talk and walk and ride the rest

oh ephemeral stranger!

clasp hands with me under the big top and swirl my robes

into a rotating phantasmagoria as we reign across the dusty dance floor

diving banded-fists first into each apparition

following each others shadows into the smoke and the mirror

I’d like it best

to sink into a purple vanilla smoldering

like incense drifting from my rolled cigarette

I’m warm in the transparent

volcano chug of magmaous atmosphere

hiding my faces in the crooks of my clavicles

fluttering up from underneath eyelashes

and batting witty laughs into the alcove corner we adorn

pass the hookah, just passing through

every labyrinthian second, an eternity with you

and I think occasionally about the sadness of leaving

when i awake from the dream, so sure I was perceiving

my empty hand on the mattress, I know now, I’m dreaming.


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primordial waters

the removal from warmth, children, where we lay buried deep in the muck of our mothers
the clumps of cells,
the spewing and spawning of pestilence
as it congeals about in petrie dishes with hearts
cohesive cultures multiplying into infinity
don’t you yearn to rush fingers to it?
through it?
to break apart the crumbling human kind
ashes to igneous
dust to the deep
Earth’s innermost chambers where stone goes to sleep
those primordial waters
wherein life we keep

I once heard a pebble cry for heaven
too heavy to float,
he was crushed and disintegrated into
the rising and falling of swells
caught in tumultuous God
expelled into oceans of crackling magma
his particles smeared like ash across my mother’s thumb
the guru pulled him in again until her stomach grew
and the parts of him that I shared, and water, his sister, too
ascended heaven, bent in brethren
and fell again as dew

have you churned prayers
which sprinkle away as ash in winding breath
and felt each feather blacken your coat as it melted away?
your sickness is tucked up on the mantle
where a fire heats it below,
bellowing unto it in seductive whispers:
“multiply. be more. overflow upon this house, this corpse”
And I’m deciding if I should know or forget.

Recall your commons
the commuting hemoglobin, burning scarlet with passion for oxygen
asphyxiated on sea shell sounds
going round and round
your dying makes no sound

(and your ears forgive their pound
but you’ve sunk into primordial waters
ashes to amniotic)

and your cells do not beat drums
but they are the drums and the mallets
a tongue satiating its own pallet
I stroke my own wrist
because my nakedness won’t bear it
eyes lock onto eyes, for diverting will scare it
the charms on your arms are the shackles that bind you
closing my eyes so their devises won’t mind you

I stare down water from my perch and cease to see it
I stare at water long enough and seem to be it

I know who I am when your laugh rifles through me

sound off like a shot gun
and explode into me

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they were


nothing but disagreements descend

but to what end?
agreement wants to dance alone tonight
and I’m in a tango of shoelaces
tripping myself in stripping sentences
stripped of overdoing it
and naked in insufficiency
what I say is not honest
so I must not say
you walking tragic flaw
too smart to be the hero
too taut to unfold
age gets angry when it’s gotten too old
aren’t you just about sick of this?
dusting hands off of being yourself
and making excuses and smiles for the self
too too sad
cut strings keeping you here
cut your throat just to feel
i want to lay hands on your chest
like jesus
and put blue light into your lungs
I’d like to caress the part of your forehead
 that gets stressed
but never kiss on the lips
I don’t want saccharine saliva chapping my mouth

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Fuck Your Family, a discourse on love

Sex is a form of honesty that not all people are ready to divulge to one another.

Rape is a complete perversion of this honesty by taking a person and spilling all of their secrets in front of them through the sway of fear & power & control.

The vulnerability that we place ourselves in while having sex (our nudeness, our admittance & indulgence in pleasure, our honesty about pain and learning to give and take equally) it all takes perfect honesty & trust & care for the other person to be fully enjoyable.

Anyone can beat their bishop (or another’s) and still cum, but can they say they know themselves or their partner better as a result? Do you value that truth or a cheap night on the walk of shame to endless wanting?

Reversely, sex should be a kind of milestone for certain, worthy relationships, from each interaction we have with individuals our emotions follow a special train of logic.

We are all spiritual beings having a human experience. We’re all struggling in our own ways and celebrating as well. Right off, we are friends with each acquaintance we find it fit to continue interacting with. When you first encounter a new person, something about them or the energy between both of you clicks and causes you to crave their presence again. Whether simple attraction to their personality (or their person), shared interests or a deeper -albeit, rarer- connection in which you have a moment of feeling understood and accepted.

Through mutual experiences we build empathy & compassion which fosters care for the other:

Over time we get to experience the different voices within a person – their cautious voice, perhaps the voice of their parents; the adventurous voice that sings and screams with dreams and the creative spirit; their feeling voice – a bit softer than the others and quite like a turtle popping out of its shell limb by limb, until much of their movement is shown to you; the hardest perhaps is the selfish voice (that all humans possess) that we feel uncomfortable seeing spring from another’s mouth. Every voice that makes up their person exposes us to the complete individual at hand, and it takes time to experience all of these voices, in which not every moment is enjoyable.

What makes the less enjoyable moments tolerable is understanding. When we are shown the mouth that speaks each voice, and we begin to understand motives and lifelong baggage that sculpted the human before us. Though some tones hit our faces harshly, we see the shrill formation of lips that harness the banshee screech. Perhaps we come to relate to it, making dissonant harmonies with our own warbling notes.

Through time spent together, learning, feeling out the shapes that enclose each other – sometimes being wrong, sometimes feeling right – we encounter each other at highs and lows. When one hand goes slack, the other tightens. When we hit a depression, perhaps together, we see ourselves in the other. We begin to become sensitive to their vulnerabilities; to their insecure ego.

When we openly care for each other, tender feelings of affection may be expressed through the natural inclination to love our fellow human. These are manifested through hugs, kisses, simple touches. Closeness even – the will to be nearer to someone. HOWEVER with these expressions comes greater vulnerability; we must trust the other not to hurt us with the truths we have exhibited to them. Through continued cultivation of trust and care, we become something like family. We look out for one another, are more willing to give freely to the person – sharing our possessions as well as emotions, because we can trust that person to treat them gently and respectfully.

From here, our feelings of family may encounter initial feelings of attraction again and can now be expressed in a communal environment. This is why Christian theology dictates we become family (through the ritual ceremony of marriage) before consummating our relationships. Precisely where puritanical thought is wrong: we must only have one ‘spouse’ that we engage sexually with.

There are no bounds to how far a family can grow. We find family everywhere we go in like-minded individuals who exhibit an understanding of our condition & support. So why must we limit ourselves to just one for this sacred action? If it is truly meaningful each time we indulge in the ecstasy of sex, why should it matter how many we share it with.

Christianity will have you believe that the sacred rite/act of sex becomes diluted with branching out past monogamy. This is a construct of male dominator style society, where jealousy rules over love and binds our wrists. Here I will quote the Buddha: “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle and the life of the candle will not be shortened; happiness never decreases from  being shared”. Substitute ‘love’ for ‘happiness’ and you’re on the way.

Until we become family, we cannot truly be lovers. We just have to learn to hold our hormones back with reason and discipline – for the same reasons that sexualizing people is so inappropriate, especially with strangers. When a loved one does it, it’s okay; playful and natural. When an individual in the acquaintance stage that you are attracted to in some manner sexualizes you or vice versa, the moment is intense – charged, because though the base attraction is there, the lack of empathy and understanding of the person perverts that chances of becoming family. This creates a dysfunctional family environment that, when pursued romantically, will create an equally dysfunctional relationship.

I truly believe that everyone is family, and likewise has the ability to knowledge this fact. It’s the matter of seeing the scenario conducive to the courage it takes to admit this.

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Hey Stella!


The princess whisking herself back into the clutches of the dragon.

She catches her own skirt on the turrets of the castles she’s climbed over,

only to give up at the sight of the sunrise,

climbing back down into the dungeons of the castle,

curling into the warm claw of the beast’s hand,

because it shed a single tear when it realized it had nothing more to protect.

The prince is outside waiting on his steed,

and I’m telling him to leave me alone –

Come back next week.

Come back when I can get over the wall,

it’s too difficult now, and I’ve grown tired.

I’ll need the rejuvenating bite of the wolf in my side before I have the death I need to walk through the gate.

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