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But what do you do living on the back of a betrayal that was baked into a sweet cream butter roll

Filling squeezed and sucked out just to find some relief from your dry lips and starved tongue

Self inflicted

When my skin is just a reminder of the ways I’ve sold myself

And the curve in your spine becomes your comfort

There was a time when your toes were strawberries and my fingers berries of blue

When salvation peaked through sunlight reflected off of dripping pupils and floated into our hair like dandelions

Now there are no words and there are no eyes

There are no songs and there are no fights

Silent and still sits the raging chaos of a life created only to be escaped

𖦹

weaving bodies into the tapestry of earth as a living library blending

realms in coalescent dimensions transforming the falsehood of

binary narrative through radical honesty and embodiment of the full

and dirty shadow self as rainbow light fractals illuminate the heart

and burst through skin, glass, cream, spinning silk on prayer flames

𖦹

I think I am alone in the most beautiful possible way

I think everything I need flows to me

I know

My hands holding delicately, anticipating the melting

When I dream now I see through tulle

And I’ve become the shells in the yolk

You say its so easy

But you still don’t know what I mean

To be the punctuation

How I adore this lopsided organ

This fermented fruit

stuck in the gaps of my teeth

Punish me because my fear is erotic

Secret disgust

Where do I place something this big and soft

Move into lightness

Expanding

The expectation of a rain storm

May or may not

Ever satisfy

𖦹

Made for love yet stuck in a bed. No love and no sweat. tears on the pillow and in my mouth. Saltine dream. Made for love but sold into desire. A body whose innocence lost her eyes. Burned my fingertips and thighs. Born for love but forced to be consumed. Devoured in the steam of hot stones and oil. Born for love but my song is drowned out by blaring car horns. Ambulance sirens and motorcycle exhaust. The cement raging bull. Made for love oh please just let me be soft. When the poetry I love was used against me. When the beauty I craved was weaponized. Well wait… was I ever actually made for love? Does it matter if they told me I was? Does it matter if they changed their mind? I can feel the blood move in my veins and that slow pumping love will not change. No words of love or hate can change the spirit of life I know I contain. Now without a voice saying yes or no. Now without a body to please. Can I bend to please myself? Can I find the shape that’s true? Made for love but you can’t recognize me until you learned who I am not. When I’m lined up with all the cups on the shelf. Only that quiet voice points to water. I know who will find me in that quiet place. Holding shape. Called by the wave.

In spite of these blisters I am soft. I have had fists and tears. In my bumps and bruises. Words become a razor blade to skin. I am still soft. I breathe in through the nose, breathe out through my mouth, and a shadow three times my size escapes me. Towers over my fleshy form. We are both afraid of this dark giant. Can’t you see I am just as scared? When your shadow jumped out of you I understood. I held you there, in the dark with a burning candle. But why did you run when you saw mine? Why did you blow out the candle? The mutual joy and safety may have only been momentary. But it was a beautiful moment. People often think beauty is void of pain. No. I have learned to suffer well. I move with shiny reflective buoyancy. From cold daylight on blue veins, to warm sand on hairy legs. The fiction of fortune writes itself. We suffer well. In the grip of desire. Bitter tea before I sleep. Swallowed the lump in my throat. Wash it down. Everything fleeting. The fantasy repeating. You are so familiar. You are so dear to me. You make me feel something I thought I forgot. Please remember who I am and what I’m not. I make a home with twigs, petals, and shells. I perform lyrical spells. I revive your sex from the dead. Run from me in every language. The fantasy repeating.

𖦹

devotion eternal in this damning swirling pool of bodily excretion this unholy made holy through sacraments of the deepest red heart and whatever nonsense of “time” cannot speak for itself we need a voice from inside the belly the spirit at the base of the spine we need movement please put down the secret sword please find a new maps new ways to learn to read through goosebumps on the skin and tear drops in the mouth

𖦹

I am living liquid cement

I am sentient cement

What does not pour out of me

Pours into Earths Nothing Hole

The secret place they can’t touch, pollute, rape

Yes, there is my home in Earths sacred  Nothing Hole

Warm and wet

Shaped like a bent shell

And my body belongs to her

And she makes me empty

Just to refill every orifice

Earth and lovers alike know

I like my mouth stuffed

Mmmm

Fall back down the nothing hole

I want to marry Jupiter with sexy muscles

And a soft feminine back

I want colors bleeding from dripping fingertips and soft green sensual smiling with beautiful teeth and beautiful lips and a body I did not expect and a language I can barely speak

There is much to say without these words

There are stories written on the body

Open me

Read me

Like better than fantasy

And I want this sex to be mine so bad

My sex

Just mine

My shoulder is broken and wrists bent backwards

Empty cock sucking brain

Empty sitting on your face

Empty empty I show up empty to the hungry mouths begging to eat

Being empty is how I save me

Out of the body for pay out of the body for a fake freedom

But I want this sex to be mine so bad

My sex

Just mine

I want to be in this body oh god I want to be so deep in this body my vision blurs and cells erupt

I want warm silk and soft skin

Safety for plastic to melt

To be loved like a blade of grass