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The Game

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 Be careful, I will turn you into poetry... What's it like to be enthralled? To be consumed? To give and receive equally? To float in the sea of longing, thirsty - and to be quenched. All at once, everyday? He is the villain in this story. He is the trickster, the wolf cheating the sheep that he won't eat them, but in the dead of night, he went straight for their throats. He was a stranger, searched you up looking for danger. And you knew that those who love, love to death. Are you dying? What's it like to burn without a flame? To ache with the weight of  a hunger that starves you, even as you feast at the idea of 'him?' To press your palms against the ghost of his touch, only to find a cold, cold emptiness? He is the thief who slips in through the crack of your ribs, stealing breath, stealing sleep. When you think of ignoring him- for an hour, a day or perhaps a week- remember baby its no contact for you, but a regular day for him. Why did you have to tie your whol...
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Lovelorn

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KAIROS

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In for a Penny, In for a Pound

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  You never met a bone you didn't want to bruise🦴⻣
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Dear Beloved

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 "Food for the soul can never be poison"  ___Anon.  Amore mio💗,  I don't know the best memory of my life. Though I am full of memories, I cannot pick out the best one. My life is a mosaic of memories. I remember the time Mama cooked that chicken stew, and the broth was eaten with mashed potatoes. It was the first time I had tried them, and I remember the apprehension I felt (as with any new food) that I wasn't going to like it. I loved it. I remember that time I crawled into that mangled old  house through the kitchen window, cause I was so small, and I felt triumphant. No one could keep me out. Not even with a locked door. Ooh and that time when we were going for a school trip, and I had gotten so many snacks, I wondered how and with whom I was going to eat them. Perhaps it was when I was brought to literal tears after watching a movie or series that touched my soul, maybe it was the day we went for ice cream together, perhaps it was when I watched the serenit...
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Muse of Discord

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      Entry 1  12/4/2023, 4.39pm  (do you want the truth?) I am the Muse of Discord,  I am the harbinger of dis-illusion, Picture me, tempest- haired Casanova, Dancing amidst the shadowed outlines of your silhouette.  I wield a quill dipped in the ink of dissonance, I stir turbulence in the rhythmic sea.  You, you thought you could tame me, I laugh at your sad attempt to cage me, My laughter echoes in the disarray of your thoughts.  Entry 2 12/4/2023, 4.47pm  (I'll tell you anyway) In the dream I don't tell anyone, you put your head on my lap. A quiet scene unfolding, without anyone else knowing. I am the voice inside your head, that whispers the bad things that you want to hear. It's my secret fantasy. Even if I don't say it out loud, its mine, its a moment that lingers in my thoughts, waay outside the times I should be thinking about it. You then sit on the go cart, and I notice the way your shorts cling to your dark skin. Ohh wh...
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SHAME ?

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"Wear it on your face, on your chest, on your legs, in your hair, on your sleeve, so if they ask you where you took it, tell them, Here it is. There is nothing you can do." 🥀🎕💮🎴 Your locs are laid on your chest in three main strands. Two on the left, one on the right. You have let the others flow down past your shoulders and onto your back, free. You are wearing a green beanie, and nothing else to cover the perfection that is your face. Your soul calls to me, and I don't think I have it in me to refuse. You turn your head to the left, as the second shot is taken, perfect, just like the first. He asks you to strike another pose, and you do. You close your eyes slightly, and I know the direction in which they are looking. God why do I know this? You look at the camera, as the light flashes, front and back. You know you like to tease me, and I know you are doing it now, you seem to dare me to challenge the hold you have on me. I can't. You place your left hand on you...
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Namquam tibi

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"Shoot you off that Fucking Ignorant High Horse >>>"  Good thoughts, dangerous thoughts, wonderful thoughts. The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant water. There are swans- a female and her chicks. She's honking to them. One by one they rush to her side, and disappear underneath her feathers. She is shielding them from a world that is distant and uncaring. As the breeze carries a melancholic tune, the air is heavy with the unspoken ache of longing for a sense of connection, emphasizing the poignant beauty of their isolated existence.  You thought that escaping to this haven would lull your thoughts of him- but they're ever present, reminding you of your loss.   Misery loves company. So why are you alone? Wallowing in your pain. One cannot be lost now, for the shadows are all you seek. You can smell the change in the air, it smells like hairspray, and apple pie, it is the smell of sadness. T-t-t-ten Hail Mary's you meditate for practice. There is th...
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