Single Brown Female on Fridays.

Shiny little lights on the ceiling

reflect intermittently what's within

There's no space for our bodies to gasp

and that crude cry's lost in the making.

Shiny skin on my arms

potent with sweat and charms of tonight

we twirl and twist as if in discomfort.

Till the shoe comes off at midnight.

streetlight

False red light instead

floods the floor where

once you and I had lain

in abstract darkness.

Everynight's street light

streams in

revealing a face

that's not yours;

and even in the throes of

that otherwordly hit,

I am aware of how it

mocks my fragile fidelity

and I shut my eyes tight.

The urgency sometimes surprises me,
the carpet and
the pillow between my legs.
The floating orange curtains
come to a halt and watch
with human-like interest.

green moon tonight
darkens my flowerpot
startling dahlia light
binds in a knot
my neo-virgin plight.

paper cuts galore
sweet pains kiss
a novice no more
i give me a list
of the undoables.

She’d stayed in

Pretending

The key was lost.

He’d sat still

Tea cup steamed

Fogging sense.

She writhed free

Dress hitched

Revealing that.

He leaned forward

Narrowed his eyes

Till eyelashes touched.

She made herself

A cupful of frenzy,

Unheeding.

His morning cup

Of tea crashed and broke

Unheard.

It had been long and I had forgotten,

How it is to climb out unbidden

And fall plumb into a tub of fireflies.

And their light now enters my mouth,

Which smells a bit like the summer-soft

Friday afternoons spent with you.

And the light now moves about me

Like your eyelashes around my face

And settles around my collarbone and

melts into my sweat and your reticence.

easy one for the masochist

The carpet smells of almonds I think,

I sneeze.

The hairs on my neck rise

Something screams in my head.

And this room closes in on me.

I flex my fingers

My fingernail breaks the windowpane.

I smell blood.

And like it.

The ropes cut into me.

It hurts,

And I like it.

This tiny room encompasses me

It is my whole life this afternoon.

And I like it.

I wait.

My mouth waters in anticipation.

I hear movement in the next room,

I prick my ears up.

I wait,

And I like it.

off my chest

all the weight

crush me

brush me

paint me red

shower

more power

rush over

halt a bit

take a hit

and now..

no Now

give it back.

on my back

feet fly

toes curl

you toss

i turn

you push

i shove

we count

power.

I watched the blood through your iridescent earlobes

This happened yesterday afternoon.

As you and I sat around wood,

Hoping the next meeting comes soon.

Solitude

She lies on my eyelids,

like once only sleep did.

And now she is inside of me,

like once only I could be.

If you came by, you wouldn't know the difference.

She doesn't speak to strangers.

All you would see is me sitting alone.

While I clutched her in my palms,

And in my shut eyes,

And I my mouth,

And in all those parts of me,

Where she now lives.

the witch of you

the last button falls off me

you come just one step closer,

its one of those 100 nights,

And you can roll away in the dawn

But tonight you are too young

you are 75 years too young to know

that I am the witch of windowless rooms

and the wine has sharpened my teeth,

tonight I can gobble you up and

my altar awaits your young skin

I raise my hungry tongue

and taste you from within

I am the witch of the slaughterhouse

I have tied you to me for an eternity

you feed at my breast like a lamb

and you fall at my feet and

you still think you can walk away in the dawn

and your saliva glistens silver on me

I am the witch of your childhood attic

and you are now deep within me

smiling just like your seven year self,

your limbs you now offer me

I have eaten your heart out already

but you still don't recognise me

I am the witch of your Saturday night dreams...

Urchins

Shoulder blades shine through silk

cold beads break and fall

afternoons pass in a blue acid mist

fine china bone faces glow through the wall.

the house moves a few steps back

and overlooks the river once again

fences fall apart, iron gates rust and die

wooden floors melt in the July rain.

dragonflies fly low dreaming of the dawn

waves rise and fall against their skin

the house has swept the courtyards of secrets

but apple cores dipped in silk scream of their sin.

In another city

She screamed and so did I

that night in his glass room

age-old rages fired our speech

and kept us awake past closure.

she accused and so did I

both our voices throaty and dry

trying a stab at nonchalance

swirls of smoke keeping us awake.

she cried and so did I

but neither of us heard the other

instead we slipped further away

created a chasm of desire

and bled onto the flower patterned bedsheets.

for a song

Bells knoll my crime and a witch-hunt has begun.
Last night my diamond ring glistened within you
And now my blood is spilt and the writing is on the wall.
Hooded mob walk the streets and death threats fly home,
For one cupful of frenzied love I sold my freedom for a song.

also like this

As I stand in this windowless room,

the last button falls

With a resounding tinkle.

And you come just one step closer,

And you think its just one of those nights,

And you would move away in the morn

But you are 75 years too young,

Too young to know

That tonight I can gobble you up,

And the wine has sharpened my teeth,

And my insides await you

Just like my skin.

Silver buttons pop out one after the other

And now the sheer silk underneath shows.

And I stand amidst a pool of some gauzy fabric,

That was once next to my skin.

I wore them in the evening,

And I now want to wear you,

For I am cold,

I want to wear you

For I am not.

And I do nothing,

As I stand in this windowless room,

And the last button falls

With a resounding tinkle.

And you come just one step closer,

And you think its just one of those nights,

And you would move away in the morn

But you are 75 years too young,

Too young to know

That tonight I can gobble you up,

And the wine has sharpened my teeth,

And my insides await you

Just like my skin,

And you are so young,

You will be trapped soon,

And I open my legs,

And you gasp for breath

And then drown.

And you now know not what you saw

In my eyes tonight,

One kind of life,

Belies another death.

when you hurt me

fat little raindrops fall from my soul,
and collect somewhere
in the the crevices
of your skin and flesh.

and you hit me last night,
hard and surreptitious
and i watched with awe
the cold silent fist
making contact with my virgin lips.

the puddle of my sadness
creeps through the floor i sit on.
and you sit closeby.
just as wet
just as hard
and i watch with awe.

the last virgin

The carpet smells of almonds I think,

I sneeze.

The hairs on my neck rise and touch

The rough ceiling of this room,

Things are too close and I scream in my head.

And this room closes in on me.

I flex my fingers and trying pushing it all out.

My fingernails break the windowpanes.

I smell blood.

And like it.

I am tied.

The ropes cut into me.

It hurts,

And I like it.

This tiny room which manages to encompass me

Is my life this afternoon.

And I like it.

I wait.

I sweat in anticipation.

My mouth waters.

I hear movement in the next room,

I prick my ears up.

I wait,

And I like it.