misdemeanor

deciding. if it’s time. if there’s enough space between. if there are open ended answers to what this is. what becomes one hundred? what skin touches down? what wills collide to bring this back to life?

i have overheard enough in this life. i cannot claim ignorance. i cannot fathom release such as this again. your skin is too fair. your touch too heavy. your eyes too brilliant to let go again.

i set him free. i release myself into ether. i suck the airs of absence hiding between our palms. i can sense every movement. every sigh. every thought that comes within 10 feet of me. and you are all about it. your skin. your face. your fingers. tracing the lines of want and desire ever so slightly, lingering, drowning. sacrificing not a thing. no more. no longer. absence cannot control me.

i need rilke. i need bukowski. i need baudelaire. and nin. and miller. i need a song. a stance. a word action-deed-misdemeanor. i need you. i need you again.

perfection [waiting for us]

perfection. as it reels me in.
sounds sickly and remotely insecure.
i’m not sure about petty thoughts
or angry laments
but i’m fairly certain
your skin
with its faulty deeds
and master inception
is hurried
and longing
looking for me in sidewalk cracks
above gravestones
and under tree branches.
and now

there are wide expanses
languid movement
and insipid limbs
lusting after us
waiting
for new blood
waiting
for us

xoxo

begin. believe. receive.

adjustment comes again. bare limbs. silent tongue. relaxing into sound.

the space i fill is indirectly linked with yours. the time i kill is a gold mine. watching. waiting. receiving. i wash water from my skin. i wade into this. reliving pain. drowning in my own inanities. she cannot save me. and she will not let me go.

i hold skin. dreaming. lucid. unaware of the power my hair holds. unaware of the waves that come. crashing into you. when you stand near to me. or even when. you are laughing. across the room.

i must not forget. i must not name names. i must always. in every case.

begin. believe. receive.

dear san francisco

i miss you today
the fog on my face the cold summer
the steep hills the crooked lanes
i miss you today.

xokg.

forgiven. and free.

i am tempted to disguise...my self. my fate. my faith in this.
when you approach me with eyes down, hair weighed with thought, skin to touch...i cannot breath. but i want to believe. in obscenity. in this truth. in the knowing of what i feel when you are not even in the room. i am walking towards you. feeding space with recognition. holding heat in my hands. i know how to love an infinite space. a wonder of such beauty, placed in front of me. given to me. forgiven. and free.

engagement.

time and space. as it settles on my skin...liquid and airid. belonging and secretive. i house regret no more. my brow released...my senses overwhelmed, with the most beautiful joy i have know. until now i steped through darkness with eyes open, sleeping with demons, dancing with shadow and coming through, somewhat unscathed. i have stories to share with you. of my own demise. of the sounds the sea has made [the battle in her head]. i offer you this. one piece. one golden strand. and stand steady. ready...for faith. for blood. for your hand.