The transition

I am numbers...
things that are not percieved
as beautiful.
Ugly...
hard as facts and statements
invisible-forgotten
I am unisex-asexual
no desire no beauty
I cannot be seen
with the eyes
I am family, relations
troubled and avoided
I am no tantalizing
object of desire
If I was fire
I would be a
threat to your safety
burning your tongue
tasting reality....too much
I am solid, concrete
walking a line
of contempt
for myself.

My passionate brutality
ceases to exist in
one moment...I have lost

And then the kiss
grazing the surface
the scent arises
pronouncing my real name
the container erupts
gives way...
words like flies...scatter
flee in the wake of
your fear

She arrives
alone
excitable
and free
uninhibited
beauty is evident
boundaries explode
the heart dances
skin tingles
touch...

stitches

stitches...
cross my lips
and my heart
stiches cant
depart-
the hurting
not allowed...
shhhh
be so silent
stitches...
neither loud
nor violent.
gag in my mouth
quiet still
he speaks quietly
until...
alone at last
his love is free
but he still will not
say to me...
no
he will not admit
his love...
no
he will not give
proof enough.
stitches,
bindings
gags and such...
oh i wish
i knew as much...
just to know
that love was there
and just to know
his heart's not bare...
of love for me...
i wish it so
but i may never
ever know.

Featured Model: Sherrie Lee

Featured Model: Sherrie Lee

slave to the condition

Fascinated...
by this caustic vexation
an unending torential rain
of sorts...
I grip desperately, the handle
which explores me
and I bend to the hand
 which holds my plee.
Falling down, still falling
groveling at the feet
something near, unchained
demons -I will retreat...
in my chaos and oblivion-
my fear...
something very softly unspoken
invades my itching ear.
If I should have the answers
and focus on the clarity
these lies unspoken have
their rarity.
Truth be told...
I search till sanity's end.
At my masters will
I begin again...denied
with this denial
I again bend in the trial
fascinated by edges of
roughened lives that claim
I submit to that
which has no name.
failure will come in
repititions of thousands or more
in names so saccarine
pronounce the whore

fascinated by the fascination of
without and there within
drawn by the hopeless
power of men
brought to the reality of
nothing attained
life that is meaningless
a perfect stain

Embodiment of sensuality

No pretty way to say it

No pretty way to say these things, no pretty way to pose
I watched this happen right under my hands, under my nose
I watched it work its filthy magic just as it always did
slowly and precisely, it packed the can and closed the lid
It was perfected, as any evil thing would be
I watched it reach into its pocket hiding the key
No pretty words could be spoken from such putrid lips
Quietly that pretty thing, from reality, it slips
I guess in time, in gardens, pretty things may grow again
And maybe on the wind, a pretty breeze may blow away my sin

And finally there may an enlightening answer
to every form of chaos binding cancer.

Our sentence, our answer....no guilt.

And she said
"I want it quick, quick
as the answer
the sure answer to
all questions...ended."
And she said
"I don't want this
human condition, and
no one understands."

I was her breath to reason
when no reason existed,
her ear to the answer.

And the voices beside me said
"Dive from the deep end when
you know you cannot swim.
Watch the flesh move and
expand."
"You will understand that
there is more reason than this."
And she said
"A pile of flesh, it wouldn't be
my fault, If you answer it for me."
"My legacy is to die and I want
it to end quickly after the verdict."
One breath, she said, then gone.
And she asked...
"Is that so wrong?"