The Creature Who Spoke A Damned Tongue

Deadly trickles of anticipated dread

Are familiar enough to her to seem distant

But presently and always keeping her comfort

Likes years of experience following pivotal decisions.

Dusty and dark as her place of dwelling

Were the unfurnished caverns of her intimacy.

Too long empty is as vulnerable as untouched

With the burden and ferocity of memory.

Language unused atrophies like a muscle,

Remaining unseen negates the power of recognition,

The faces of a friend, family member, or companion

Turn feral as forgotten dogs to such a creature’s intuition.

There, in her lair, were the worlds where she dwelt,

Distinct and unapproachable, like light too bright to see,

Away in a darkness unbroken by trouble or fright

Her life, locked so preciously away, ever outward seeped.

Damn every fragment of those unresting feelings

That scissored her apart from every body where’s peace,

The creature of anxiety speaking tongues of the mad

Sleeping separately and sound in dysfunctional dreams.

Sick Cemetery

Suicides, fatal blunders, and resolute endurance worn away

The permanent final solution for late dysfunctional brains

Confused, despairing, or damaged, all will find their way

The Sick Cemetery welcomes all of them to stay.

Poly-disordered personalities with all the common names

All the common ailments from depression to disarray

Troubled minds, anxious minds, minds that wore away

Petty minds, brilliant minds, beautiful brains erased.

Beautiful grass and flowers over surcease of pain

Remembered and forgotten loves remembered all the same

Struggles, triumphs, failures, all buried where they lay

True equality is death, all is one is anything.

Visitation always open, bring your respects to pay

Everyone is welcome, feel free to read our names

So many come and go, we understand if you delay

The weary and tired, the dysfunctional and dismayed, everyone is welcome to be remembered past these gates.

 

Better to seek suffering –

Pulse pounding erotic bloodlust,

Simulated sadism sustaining vicarious power

Heart sick, hollow, sexual submission

Combustion, stamen, pistol and flower.

Body and blood tasting,

Seductive sad smiles that stimulate

Rational animals seeking suffering

Suffer me slowly, so I may pollinate.

Shall I be the stamen or pistol?

Should I say what I’m trying to say?

Should separations, so separate us?

Shall I pretend that I’m only playing?

Will you give me, give up everything?

Will you make me, take me all away?

Can I hold you, hurt you in my arms?

Can I thrust you, trust you all the same?

Desperate tears for our garden,

Tender kisses for our wounds,

Knives for our fresh lacerations,

Sleep for our comfort, entombed.

Do you see what I’m trying to say?

How much this, is really me?

Are you enjoying my display?

Is this how it’s better to be?