Or, this dream we call human life

Best investment this year, so far.....

To ere is human

Ah this frivolous posture and screen fix we call life
Can send me diving into a well of wish wash old garments.
My wild over examinations on human concept of interaction,
can send me head first to roast and crack my skull
like the head of a succulent mythical beast.
Who could ever wish to endure such gargantous passion
that implodes and eventually does explode
in your hands, mouth, or teats.

[Scoffs]



"To ere is human, to forgive divine"

-Alexander Pope

La vie Parisienne

I would a bitch too, if I was almost 100 years old and haven't croaked,
but by Jove; You are an amazing accomplished artist.

Long live Louise Bourgeois

Una Noche: Part Deux

Our story was lost somewhere and we know that..
or much to the effect, I swell to know...
what now?
the tangent of dreams, the soft cool touch of skin
is there more to the taste of me, for men?
Wine stained lips swing and sway some...Memory
Through the daze gardens we dwell in muck
we touch the rain dew leaves, and squint
at the seaming glitter of the birthing sun
and we strip our heavy clothes off....

oh what season, what perfect reason and view for a fuck

Nocturna

The pressures that soften the cage
soft wells of skin
they sink whilst you sleep
Shape of your structure
the skeletal ardor
corrects the idea of perfection
prefer the status of an idol...
to always love you

As prayers do plead
120 days I ask
a beautiful arch, an invitation
for the arms of the lost
illicit, forbidden

we have our reasons

Sworn to solemn

I'm being depleted in circus senses of feeling
Learn to hold on tight to the skin on your back
before your hands meet mine
Complications arise to act upon our silent circumstance
What can I say? I shone true teeth
This youth tattoo of our modern limbs
is temporary paint that can last per say, three decades
Oh this musical ear, and this fear.
I crave the iris twins that live in water
and the milky sand of your lily white hands
Future stages of sin in this well-staged script
I cross my legs and pray, I cross my legs and pray
Mein Kraft, Upstage my bitter monologue,
swell the conservative audience to an encore
Claim this trophy wise, of lips and thighs
Swallow the seconds slowly
like a wind, a foreign steal
I sing warm whispers to keyholes,saints, and lover's ears.

dream to dream,let me earn a cast iron ring.

glass past

My musical soul is trapped in another decade.