this night is cold, child.
i've made it that way.
cutting away the things that made me a woman,
human.

they'll grow back.
give them time.
but right now i'm a fierce thing.
a rageful thing.
proud and ready
for blood.

blood by the handful,
his blood.
the shouts, the screams.
the end of it all
flashing white as teeth,
as bones.

silly boy.
thinking you could outsmart me.
i'm not a fool.
not for you.
not for anything.
not ever again.
this hardened, stone-dark heart
has served its purpose.

I Am Thankful For the Scars........

i am thankful for the scars.
the reminders, there forever.
for everyone to see,
if they should look.
i am only human.
i have struggled.
i have failed.
and still, despite it all
the world-consuming
soul-numbing
pain of loss
and the loneliness
that came with it...
i've walked on.
my blood
the stepping stones
that no one could ever steal
beneath my feet.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I could let myself be eaten alive with rage.
Screaming from a mountain top
About the injustice of everything,
about the hurt, the helplessness.
But I am not helpless anymore.
And I am not a victim.
I am a survivor of many things
And true,
it has made me harsh and often bitter.
There is a deeper beauty left, however,
When all the girlish naivety was torn away.
Something that will last when youth has long since passed.
Something I can forever be proud of.
You will never
Debase me again.
And whenever I kneel, know I do it
On my whim
For my pleasure.
I am no one's dog.

I am no man's whore.

And every flaw and imperfection I possess
I will use a tool.
I am tired of hating myself
For what I was
And what I cannot be.
Instead, I suppose
I will focus on who I am.
The pain that you gave me-
And what I will make of it.

Cigarette Burns.

I see your fingers tremble
As the idea takes hold.
Eyes hardening, a mask
Sitting across your features.
Facedown, waiting,
Lost in shadows and sweet smoke
Fingers bruising, eyes closed
I bend and
Offer everything, everything.
A willing, eager canvas.
The hint of burning flesh,
Stinging sweetly, the vicious thrill
Like sugar melting on my tongue.

i hate you. i hate what you've done to me, the destruction and rebuilding of a creature so completely incapable of being on her own. that even in love, i cannot find myself. in the day to day of the world i am lost, and angry, and bitter, quick to anger, slow to forgive.

my solace has been him, and even that i'm destroying. i know no other way to be, nothing else to do. i'm losing.

i did this. i killed it with my own hands, tore out the heart of something that could have been so beautiful.

all because i was afraid.

Shhh...

the ivory expanse
of your soft skin
beneath my outstretched palm
just a moment, a mere
second.
of touch.
a look.
a smile.
the thoughts inside my head
delicious.
i'd make you shudder.
i'd make you
moan.
it's been so long, boy,
since i've had my claws
in anyone
able to understand.
i'd love
to give you a taste
of every sin
i have to offer.

Extra.

I saw you
For a moment
A flash from a very
Very bad dream.
A moment
And I recoiled,
Like a child grasping for
Fire.
And he did his best,
The good boy,
To make it not so much a problem.
A sweet smile,
A kiss on the hand, the cheek.
Good boys.
It's nice to know they exist,
After spending so many years
With a monster.

Traces (2007)

traces.
hot lights in the dark, eyes, hands, smoke and liquor. failing judgement, arching hips, skirts too short, eyes too bright, tangled hair, dripping sweat and fear of going home alone.

promises fade in the heat, the shining moment between two bodies; they collide, phermones and instinct and alcohol and the world melts away; lost.

find the shadows, tearing clothes, throwing bodies into hard concrete walls. ride it out, fierce and wild and free. promises mean nothing.

nothing.

the scent of her lingers, the smile, the cries, eyes shut, soft skin, the trace of makeup left on your cheek.

Some stuff from the old myspace

Untitled
This is a vivisection of the surreal.
A dizzy haze of heroin white and tar black.
Blood stains the fingertips of every artist,
Every dreamer's heart lies
Ground into the floor.
Twenty days without sleep,
Chewing through your tongue
Howling at the wilderness
And wishing for more colour in your surroundings.
Surreal.
Take it apart, piece by piece.
Label every insignificance.
Every heartache, all the pain, all the joy in the world.
Waiting in jars written over in running black ink.

Untitled
Who am I, with you?
I struggle to be me
And I feel as though
The more you know,
The less I am.
Love can keep us together,
But sometimes I am afraid
That it will tear me apart.
Drop me in dry leaves
In the dust.
Disassembled
And confused.
Alone.
You cannot be without me
And I cannot be without you.
I only wish that
Somewhere in the rush of
This river around us
I could find some solid ground and
The will to fight the current back.
You say you loved my strength.
I know, of course, that it's been gone some time.
But here I am, trying to find it again.
Standing tall and bruised
After a long year and a bloody, beaten heart.
Casting fear out is not so easy,
Once you've let it take over every cell.
But I am trying, growing, every day
I will find my way, here-
But this is a path I must walk alone.

ramon.
dangerous. the look he flashes, the shine in his eyes, changing, and feral. the alien calm there, darker promises... so hard to keep from falling in, drowning. popping pills and feeling the burn of liquor, beautiful and surreal, the scent of copper and graves.

dancing with the devil, loving the needle, taking in smoke like air.

the rhythm of the night is so frantic, a dying pulse, the throb of distant stars, the shine of a dessicated-looking moon. the taste of rot. blood spilling underneath, purple in the sky, red pouring across the ground. soft and ancient. sex and death, power grows, spreads, builds. the tension shimmers like a good red wine, begging to spill itself over the rim.

death is so hard to contain.

drop the leash and let it run, let it build. the air breathes wicked tonight, speaking of noisome things that could not survive the burn of the sun. the earth soaks up its bounty, and power stretches like a waking cat, intoxicating, cold.

the sky opens; the moon watches with an omnipresent silver eye, afraid to look away, and telltale copper stink crawls through the night, twisting marks in response to this new blood.

this is only the beginning.