Sutured together by artists,
hallowed out, & spit back up,
( you are afraid. )
Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;
god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves
grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.
( spread your legs. )
Red-inked and trembling,
prosetry masked as screams
knots into her anatomy.
Poetry, She is stardust leaving sweet bones
in her wake. A trail of poetic destruction
conceived in verse--answering questions
with kisses. There is a hunger in her
freckled constellations, like spider webs
woven together with golden thread.
Like the wild roses she braids in her hair:
She walks backboned and head held high;
the strongest of letters on a page
left to rest in your mouth.
Bookstore Religion Lurking in the shadows of roses,
I formed my own Gods,
my own constellations
between the thorns in my teeth.
Naming them after characters
in a November's love story,
Porphyria, Dorian, and Gatsby-
I tasted earth and copper pennies.
Choking on peppermint and oils-
out of my mouth in rambles of
I recited poetic prayers to the classics.
At night, black birds rest on my eyelids.
I am drowning in their feathers.
My dreams are old movies,
( laid out in silent film. )
I asked you to lie to me,
to this supernova skin
to kiss cookie crumb freckles
along my braille throat
as I smothered you
in disheveled heartstrings.
( It did not matter your crow eyes frightened me)
Speaking to me in God's tongue
of watercolor skies
and mid-morning realities.
As we live in a wonderland
of giggling hyenas &
Your words tore into my abdomen like vultures feeding on
the raw emotion their filthy wings stirred up from the dust.
My ribs cracked from the blow.
But, I think sometimes
of how these were the ribs
that should have chased you away from me,
quietly wondering how you managed to
slither past this cage of bone and flesh
to engrave your fingerprints into my marrow.
You were sweat & spice & scars-
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.
(I want my insides back.)