Somedays are Spiritual

Between
The roles
and roses
That show without seeking
The sudden worships
That leave without speaking

And when you are alone
Under that skin
Under that mask
Beneath your façade

What is in your heart
Your soul
That puddle of ether
The dreaming
The way you wish you were

The faithful at your alter
Drinking your blood
Eating your body
Waiting for revelations
Impossible miracles

The maid
The mother
The demon I will be
All the truth
All real, below the skin
Beneath
From side to side
From bone to sinew

The truth is on my sleeve
In every fiber with which I breathe
On each wrinkle of my smile
Every blush of my cheeks

I hope the same for you someday.

Imaginary Beasts & my little demon

Soft

Soft

Worn out eyes

Dried-up eyes

Blackened & subversive

Lingering far too long

On your passive form

While autonomous hands

Work their way over that same frame




Casual,

At play

At rest

On a reactionary muscle




Soft

Soft

Electric eyes

That want for nothing

More than what is outside

Soft light, warm night, roses, and wine

Thorns and carefully placed pricks




Soft

Soft

But where was she going?

Into hinter nights

And imaginary lands

With glowing beacons

Cast off from idle hands?




And quickly

Violently

In a soft sudden rage

There she is

With her hand above his

Holding sway in a proverbial court

With the image of fears

Burning behind her tears




Ecclesiastical skins

Torn from diatribing flesh

Listen

The siren says

Listen

The serpent says

Listen

The drug says

Listen

And lie for me

The little girl says