thick wind has come back
I’m under attack
take my heart back
black thunder
rips across the land
the sky’s dry
tri-tip
frying like I
fingertips split black
powder
sit back
venom drips down my throat
I spit back
a damned sky cracks
white lightning flash
backs
words clash so fast
blast from the past
a knife
and a shadow
a ghost
in the past tense
I can see through
me and you
quicksand
compact
a solid path
blood bath
peel me apart
I’m see through
deep deep breath
fuck you
Gather your corn cockle and doll’s eyes,
the apple orchard’s angry.
She shoots her black seeds
down your throat,
eyes pierced through skin
to watch your veins suffocate.
I met her in September
when she was frail – my mistake –
I never knew of her spines, thorns,
and thistles.
But you knew everything of her:
her laughter,
her sentiment,
her tears….
and she hid in her orchard watching
the way I would swing from your branches;
how you picked fruit ripe from my body,
how every night you crossed midnight
twisted in my edible, red
nightshade
while her delicious Golden
nectar kept well
for the worms.
We do not have friendship,
or handshake,
or hug,
or your banal Tupperware parties.
You do not pout your lips in
sympathy when thoughts
of
my china doll bite your cheeks.
We do not plan swing-slide
adventures
for little skinny
blonde boys
and girls.
I do not smile and nod
as silly intoxication drags
misery out of your voice anymore.
But, you are my friend, soberly watching
for Raccoon feces, while your
husband throws the TV at you.
Once, I watched with clean eyes, while his dirty
ones stabbed you
with a sharp
pint.
Your voice never drags that up when
you are sober,
you only speak about the Raccoon’s.
* This post could be disturbing and difficult or offensive to some readers..it contains adult material and paints a disturbing image, please don’t read if you are sensitive to adult material.
I forked my eyeballs
from their sockets before
the gang
banged
away
at my fourteen aged
bones
for men
bones are not like fine
aged wine
my eyeballs bounced
around with
the pounding
hounding
hard-ons
slippery hours
later
my pig pudding covered
bones
laid to rest
while
my severed eyeballs
suffered alone
with what they had seen.
maggiemaeijustsaythis 