Monday, February 15, 2010

I fell into an oak, and woke up speaking in poetry

I am a rapid fire lust machine.

Beautiful things make my spine melt into waxy figurines,

they glisten in the passion of my spring heat.

Reminding the sun that I remain

the beautiful light in the transition of season.

I am the forensic in an unsolvable case,

setting the truth at ease,

then letting the restless

rest in peace.

I am a goodnight in a forests hallway.

tall, unbelievable tree skies.

oaking my mind with splintered dreams,

they wither within my skin,

and call my cells home.

I have cured a handsome cat of his ego,

by stroking his mind instead of his head.

And in his misery of discovering who he truly was

he purred his last tale, and ceased to exist.

I am terribly delicious,

ruining the alleged "vanished" sexism,

and giving men something to dream about.

I am above the ecosystem,

beyond the things you called to warn me about.

I am justice with a vengeance.

something you can't live without.

The beautiful things I say,

melt you into another piece of me

I will eventually recycle, and sweat away.

Sweat away in the heat of my spring,

sweat away in the mechanical breakdown

of my listless, and lustful retreat.

My mechanical innards,

they spew jasmine songbirds

into the pupil of your heart

illuminating the creation of love,

and turning you into

another minion of mine.

another sweet nothing

to dote about in the winter,

when all my romance has run dry.

When my mechanical lust

turns to lifeless rust.



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