Southern Texas (day 1111)

You don’t get to where you are
By building holes in attics.
There’re Devils grinning here
At these temptations crossroads.
Like my organic lover
Chastised in a bed of thorns,
I am too beaten into blood-let confessions,
Loosened until I am deliberated.
Happy because I have heaven.
Can you whistle to me magic?
Woop-de-woop.
A lovers forever magnetic
And I’ve left for Southern Texas, mom.

Spilt Blood (day 741)

You had me in your charms before
When you desired me in your mouth
Locked me with your legs around
Between plans: a desired future

Swimming was I here
Ignoring sharks nibbling my toes
I tucked in the corners
Stuffed coffee with brown sugar

When the aphrodisiac kicked in
I was helpless to your gin – sin
Locked into waning hours in delight
That spilt my blood upon good hands

Then danced I to the sounds above
Culling my mind: ease into dinner
For racked I was in love and lust
Desperate to grow; forever to learn

So I yelled into a hallow bowl
Shed tears soiling silken scarves
Pulled my hair in ghastly chunks
Went to sleep in a bed of thorns – crowns

But now I cull the passing strangers
Purge them with eyes of daggers
Pour my soul into mason jars
Erase words before they’ve spoke