Monday, July 24, 2006

Submit

Don’t talk back,
Bite that tongue,
Keep your opinions
Minimal
If possible keep none at all
In your mind
You have no use for them dear
You mustn’t bother
Starting
A life now,
It’ll only be a chore to
Erase it later
Those memories
You don’t need dear,
Nor these photos,
No point in leaving evidence
Of your past life,
Moments of guilt
You must be an empty canvas,
Reusable,
Low maintenance
Inviting their thoughts
To enter you,
Their physicality
Becomes you,
Their dreams to be
Traced across your body
Age must touch you first
Let it not touch them
Harshly;
Be discreet with knowledge
Pretend ignorance
Your best option
Upon feeling pleasure
Don’t be loud,
A few moans may
Escape
Best to keep quiet
Let them think your satisfaction
Dead
Remember these thoughts dear,
Listen to the next set of rules
Keenly
Nod your head,
Your disagreeing tone won’t be accepted,
Always keep that to yourself,
Only submissive dames get far.

Voice

Deep inside me
There’s a voice
Now you hear it
Now you
Don’t
Quietly howling
Black rage
You see a smile
Sunshine
Happy days
Internal pain
Dark shadows
Shame
Glossed over
Dirty fingernails
Scrapping
Against flaky skin
Searching
I look away
Reality ignored
Imagination creates
Pure eternity
Your fear
Takes over
Your rejections
Miscalculated blows
Delivering
Precise pain
Deep inside me
There’s a voice
Now I hear it
Now I
Don’t.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Stretching My Imagination

Stretching
My imagination,
Across your lashes,
Your eyes
A pond.
Perfection cries
Hollowness.
Our mistakes
Bind us.
These cold scars
Across our wrists,
Gripping
Ropes of steel.
Scales form
Across our chests,
Branding our skin
Unclean.
Scars don't wash
With soap,
They grow
Stretch,
Reminders of history
Otherwise lost
In fickle minds
Pushing away,
Anguish.
Decomposed words,
Forming a corpse,
Our poetry
An art
Impersonating
The private strain.
Between these lines
We draw
Our secrets,
Hidden from their gaze.
As they interpret them,
Call them pretty,
They'll never find
The truth.
Disfigured
Moments
Never form
A perfect circle.

A Farce, My Pain

Sometimes
I wonder
As I put pen to paper,
Will you be sentences
Spelling perfection,
Or smudges across
A page.
Will I hide you
In my secret box,
Ashamed
Of what you may have said.
Blaming the pen
For false starts.
Will you sing to me,
Wake me
With joy,
Because I concealed
You
My truth.
These words
Your essence,
Half lies,
Forming paradox.
I refuse to read you
As I taint this page,
Afraid
Of the truths
I may discover.
What right do I have
Imprinting
My sadness
On you.
Those few
Bitter memories,
I feel
Deeply,
Those smiles
I fear.
My sorrow
Taints you
Longingly.
I shed my skin,
Slowly
Revealing
My abode.
Do you mock my words,
Childishly drawn,
You,
My so called craft.
The cure
I long considered
My last.
Do my worries bother you,
Or do I
Fall
With the rest of
Long stories,
Over-indulgent
Bitter pain,
A farce.

As You Sit Here

As you sit here
Beside me,
Your arms
Surround my world.
Between
Fluttering lashes
I catch
My breath
Dystopic feelings
Masking
Utopic happiness
I sink
Deep
My secrets
Suffocating
Our happiness
Buried
Inside
Those wings
You gave me
Presents
Unopened
Pandora’s box
Awaiting
My hesitant touch.
I wonder if this is love.