"Out in the distance i called your name; and the fog from the field responded"
You feed my addictions desires,
drumming decadence off eyelids blinking,
boisterous fashion show diva daily.
a twitch of the muscle from wrist to index imprint
attempting to sit still.
i fantasized you aerodynamic.
i put hungry hungry hippos to shame.
a sun bent motel bed in california where you perfectly laid,
let me seep into your perky breasts by nightfall,
choke me on the next messaged line typed with the inside tips of thumbs,
gushing for the flood of seductive suggestions comes next.
i jumped over conversation pieces as barrels from the original Nintendo's Donky Kong.
i cashed out like you do at 3 minute max bank robbery with a gun and president's mask.
checked out from reality for awhile; a luxury i really couldn't afford but a vacation i needed.
white cells in the bloodstream,
baking as 3 ingredient peanut butter cookies,
i blew my tea pot top from the steam.
stepping into a realm where time passed at a progressive rate,
words were a pleasure piece wrist watch as well a personal sadist.
days passed and letters turned on me,
teeth on dinner for the first time in weeks.
high tide rolled in and jerked me out to sea.
we've come full circle to choking on water.
the feeling of drowning never leaves when i try to pick myself up.
parts of me have been plucked causing the water to stay at bay,
just enough pouring out to keep my feet dragging the bottom.
no, nets are what pulled me from the depths and treached me in the throat on shore.
blood brought the werewolves,
holy water hand grenade,
be a dear and bring the wooden steaks and electrocution would you?
what is this madness that i've built?
breeding ground for infection,
tongues starting in Tennessee and stretching past the coastal reefs.
grey cold swept into hair,
skin and bone peanut britle.
a bastard barking matted fur,
i shot an orchid in the head and hid behind the smiles body.
to abandon creation is insanity,
doctors know that,
Frankenstein knew that;
cultivate for a better tomorrow.
we are but beasts,
brooding in the night-
building shame as a pyre to throw ourselves.
burning the embers till' coal turns cold
and the crowds pack up they're families in body bags;
fun size at Halloween they called it.
playing catch up