Lest I Forget

Patio lounging. A muse in billowing silk. Arms bared, gentle breeze. Noon-sun sweat and wanton sighs. Breasts rise, hearts flutter. Garnet navel piercing. Hot. The darkest lipstick. Tapping fingers on the hip. Mirrored eyes linger. Her frown is always yearning. A glass of iced tea.

Let Lie Less

I've been sleeping more lately,Troubled by ephemeral dreams,That (clich├ęd though this may be)Feel more real than reality seems.While good for inspiration,I'm concerned nonetheless,For in my waking starvation,I'm becoming less and less. Better, I suppose,To dream and chase phantom love,Than let my soul die.

To Dream Too Deep

When she did not wake, she burrowed Deeper,Into the corpse-skin of the world,Where she stole the magic from forgotten gods,Ate their powers and awful disparity,Until she vomited her mortality,In the form of wriggling worms,Many-legged and blindingly yellow,(Though when crushed underheel,They leave beautifully red stains). Because she could no longer walk,Having sprouted too many eyes,She dragged … Continue reading To Dream Too Deep

Dreams of Dead Machines

Milk-rust and rose petals, Flowing in churning streams, Through ancient forest clearing, Weaving infinite songs, Whisper sensual calm, For a broken War Machine, Which can no longer recall(lost so in cartesian spirals), until sleep once again gleams, Like a dagger of diamond dreams, sheathed in soft, sapphire silk.