budasha

I hope you up. . . & thinking of me. I hope you're restless, caged & lusting. I want you tied & somehow bound. I want you gagged with sexual tension breathing raspy, labored sounds. I love the way you moan & clutch me. I love your mouth. . . I love your breath. . . I love the way you push up on me, slip up beside me, kiss my neck. I love your hands upon my body, your lovely fingers in my hair. I long to tempt you with my softness. . . to hold you prisoner with my stare. I love to kiss your lips, so tender. I need to trap you with my thighs. I want that sweet, earthly surrender. I want your sex, your skin, your lies. . . I nee

scraping, clawing. . . the unbearable sequence, steady & never ending. . . the struggle goes on & on. . . only talons shown through veils of crimson as layer upon layer of heedless prayer now become vain supplication frozen within a wind-filled lair. . . & chimings of a million pardons the hum of transposed identities. . . the clatter of turmoil subsiding, half-hearted, initiating from the other side & I alone within these bones have only myself to rebuke & chide. . . blackness engulfs tired, sullen pupils long dialated, filled with steaming tears trying to encompass/recall compassion instead of malevelant brooding fears. . .

forgetting. . . suspended by a thread. . . peeling inside this surreal year our blue skies stained & crackled now & inside its shell I can hear thunderous clouds breaking into pieces of lost time how far away it all seems the touch, the smiles words floating ever farther out to sea a beach of empitness forever empty of these. . . ghostly. . . sounds of lost hope fleeing. . .

. . . caught hiding from the things in my head. . . by the god of pain I wait / want to learn how to love you especially. . . now that you are lightly fading. . . gossamer . . . gone. now that you've, somehow, been reborn as visual poetry. . . unbreakable your former symmetry, masked in dyslexic plagering, pandering you still / steal words out from under & around my thickening tongue gently, now, they choose to serve you by design. . . forming lists of desirous fray, the autonomy of fearless confession the fragility of wingless never-endings woven, tirelessly, into the aura of our best mis-spent days. a typographical equilibrium

because. . . I cannot locate your ears because. . . my words filter, innocuous, through stained-glass contusion, gone black now, within admonitions never reaching your pain. . . because. . . I cannot labour under your lung-stare because. . . in between breaths, I loose all momentum the catalyst, of which, is beyond us both, scattered upon extremities exhaustable, rasping membrane, absurd, now, in interruption. . . because. . . I cannot true your mouth because. . . some grievous foul, akin to scandal resides I stitch & pull, labial. . . mending woe, until screams die down 'til like some rushing, glittering prophet, silence insolates

insufficient quiver. . . you ate away my struggling & nuances of hurt of hope withering beneath your feasting I wanted. . . just. . . to peel away that membrane where you set bloom or mist my sleep to cease the deep & dark cupboarding of gloom my face, concave flesh gave away the tone & verve the essence & the vigor gave up the ghost I felt morose but still. . . death did deliver

I love. . . painlessly. . . & succumb. . . willing to be kissed by the lips of your faintest monochromatic stare & so I become transparent. . . I am. . . bound. . . will I, might I, inquire in the temple of your wayward harp-strung glance lulled into. . . that most haunting, spiraled splendor that rents still mind & heart & soul, yet unaware not nervous &/or insufferably numb. . . collecting items, tenderly, for life's collage yet, when I manage to just be still I allow all forms to take shape I sift. . . & want. . . to notice pleasure. . . irregardless of any opaque circumstances. . . . . irregardless the intriging way lig

in peeling back the wrinkled forehead they noticed a notion there. . . unwinding. . . from a trace of emaciated skin where the flesh collasped, loosely in folds. the tiny inkling crawled slowly back down finally. . . spiraling. . . drawn towards the darkness, where elusive meets cranium where meager, possibly becomes art or dreams of it where every other colour melts into black & silence steals the breath to escape completely . . . to escape complexity freedom clamours. . . belonging to some other acid-washed dream, caressing awareness & the frothy state of neurons rebuking the obstinate taste of synapses in the breach of what

there are ghosts, lost, within your eyes. . . arriving, in timely fashion, or exisisting ever-more. . . arriving. . . to denude the complexity, the vastness of staunch reflections awash in other worldy colour & the glint of love-stained words lost. . . as lost as you, oh arrhythmic. . . bearer of amputated tears . . . you've cut them out bare-boned, from among the pondering . . . vessels deveined, free-falling to puddle near nonsense as immortal as the artful. . . as vigilant as the artless. . . the less than full sepulcher that exudes ripe thoughts & wayward notions with the stubbornness of wings . . . availibility omnip

forgotten in forgetful layers. . . you churn. . . a wingless distortion suspended upon an ancient ache some pale diversity of expression how might I cradle thee? soften your existence, your delicate in-differences? silk looms. . . wearily you will not leave the dust & so it lovingly becomes your bones. . . a calx of consciousness resounds with voice & verse. . . remnants exhaled into the void become forgiveness for the trembling god-fingers that pluck & poke & preen emotion slips, sultry, between skin & skull. . . frustration flutters delusion dances among myth & time scatters ashes of innocence. . . poetry spills from tha