barnacle

sealed shut by you

decades ago,

my eyes stubbornly refuse to open

as sunlight pierces my realm.

release me,

i whisper.

one hundred years i’ve been

here,

surrounded by a stench more massive

than the entrails of a decaying blue whale.

parched lips drop blood

onto a slimy green floor.

release me,

i beg.

atrophied and blind,

i stretch broken hands outward

toward the warmth,

yearning to be loved

as a newborn is by her mother.

your laughter echoes to and fro,

bouncing off the walls of my

hidden prison.

release me,

i plead.

you giggle,

lapping at my sanity

as a kitten laps at milk in a warm kitchen.

the ocean crashes onto a sandy shore,

stealing grains of my mind

with each retraction,

replacing them with your own.

forcing me to accept a new reality as you

crush me down further and further,

denying me heaven.

so i sit.

cling to the slimy walls of my odoriferous cell

as a barnacle clings to a ship afloat upon an unforgiving sea.

lost, forever, yet drifting

doggedly toward hope.

make me yours

there’s a lustful silence between

you and i,

an echo filling space

beween us,

rapidly expanding and pulsating

as we hold our breath

and try to push it away.

reverberating,

it draws us closer,

inexplicably,

your eyes search mine as

mine search yours,

lips close enough to breathe in

our salty passion

and inhale ignited desire.

caught in this carnal updraft,

your mouth seizes mine, gently,

then all at once devours me

with the drive of a insatiable tiger,

falling deliriously into

bliss.

melting into you,

i disappear,

fading not away,

but toward an encompassing

sensual current to which

only your lips carry me.

lost in your sea,

i throw my head back

and sink beneath the waves,

willingly,

yearning to feel every

drop of you upon my entire body,

denying myself nothing;

immersing myself completely

as together we

toss ourselves amidst the

lustful waves which swell

with each caress,

growing rougher and more

frenzied.

i open my eyes,

deep beneath surging waves

and stare into yours

as a lamb before slaughter,

whispering, into your parched and greedy lips,

three words…

“make me yours..”

brazen brandy

in the penumbra of the eve,

silence creeps.

slithers around  gnarled trees clinging to

primordial roots,

glides down from a cajun sky

strewn with glowing specks of

kismet.

this solitude steals boldly into my

quarters,

saunters over to my soul

and pours itself in

as if it were an aged

and brazen brandy,

swirling about in a crystal tumbler.

confessions of the past

now echo inside me

as silence persists,

an obstinate guest

deep within my psyche.

semblances of sanity

against the wall

she sways as an

innocent violet

mercilessly attacked in the

harsh spring wind,

struggling to understand

the heavy static in the

air around her

as the vortex

approaches,

steady on a

hellbent path of

destruction while

giggling like a gleeful toddler.

she shrinks back into

a secret space

behind the graffiti-bound wall,

sheltering her green eyes

and poppy lips from the

angry vortex as it

gyrates past her

and frolics into the

dusty Texas night.

Her hungry maniacal soul

trails the path of destruction

into the wilderness,

seeking to create

semblances of sanity

from scraps of insanity.

(this post inspired by the 100 Word Song Challenge found here at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog – this week’s song was Idioteque by Radiohead)

tango at dawn

a crooked smile hangs

deeply in the night,

illuminated through reflections

of a fiery sun sequestered well beyond

the aphotic atmosphere.

cursed to chase the sun,

this crooked smile

swells into fullness

and then fades into darkness,

taunting the sun to promulgate

the hermetic cave into which it retreats

each evening after bowing to the sky

upon completion of their twilight waltz.

the dance deviates at dawn

as the sun pursues the cool cheshire grin

of a glowing white moon.

after a tango into the aurora,

exploding with soft oranges, pinks, and pale blues,

the sun languidly traverses a cerulean sky.

thus the never-ending dances persevere,

beyond the reach of barren trees

held deeply by primordial roots

invincibly into holy ground

reliant upon the very intricacies of

this breathless empyreal entanglement.