When I became lost in the separation of child and mother, Of myself and the other When I became lost you became found You climbed on to the backs of birds and sailed between land and space for miles Your back covered in feathers as black as the sky on a moonless night each freckle an understudy for the veiled stars
Love without apology, without reservation, without fear, without safety and security and that hard shell you swore no one would ever crack. Love without boundary, without apprehension and cynicism and timidity over exposing the soft part of your flesh. Love like it's the last time you'll ever love because this life is much too short to waste such a precious commodity. You were born to love. Anything else is wasted potential.
Don't you love photographs that look like paintings? I can hear your heart beating in the trees, baby, they're all pulsing so steadily and in rhythmic unison. Let's crawl under the blanket of snow and hide until the warmth of Spring thaws our frozen grip on each other's necks.
I will persevere, when your skin cracks open beneath my fingers, when your bones become too brittle to hold you up, when light and dark are indecipherable, when ribbons of your blood weep to the floor threatening to drown us both, I will laugh at the audacity, I will inflate my lungs in defiance and I will hold on, I will persevere.
Her smile will level you Quite like her big green eyes Nestled unassumingly behind Her fluttering lids But her hands will embrace Your throbbing throat and squeeze Until your lips turn blue And your memories of her Dissolve into the blinding stench f dreams unrealized.
My fingers follow the roads and highways of your back, reading it like a map Every mole and freckle, a rest stop On my way to the scenic bridge of your neck, An overpass with breathtaking views Breaking there to get my bearings To will the flashing of my life Before my fingers’ eyes Jump, jump, fly and I find them alive on the rugged trail of your jawline tip-toeing through rough terrain The land moves easily here And my fingers sway in alliance As they travel north and linger On the rim of the hollow of your eye The universe
I've been wanting to shoot this woman naked for years. To quickly capture just a glimpse and solidify her beautiful art-plastered body in photographs for infinitude. Shanna's my tattoo artist and one hell of a chick and I've photographed her before but never was there such tenaciousness in the air.
I see you on the horizon, always just beyond reach 15 years and 1 2 years and 8 Medium term My life is seasons of you and seasons without. Where have you been, Where did you go, I wanna rest my palms on your ribs I wanna feel your chest pressed up against my back I've survived this dust bowl Your ocean colliding with my shores Warmed contently by a rolling fog Obscuring everything but each other
God love you and love the piercing Ache to belong to you, your past, Your sins, your loves in contrast To miss you, to need you, to want you To consume you where you stand Your inamorata in a vast wasteland Every last drop of boundless brine God is giving me a sign To invite you to plunge inside me To engulf you, envelop your desires To succumb to your every whim God love the piercing ache to belong to you, With you, to feel you in my bones, Until you're seeping through my pores I'm yours. God love the you that fills the space The pockets of bleak inhabiting me The way I melt when I see your face To glances toward you longingly God love you and the stabbing ache To belong to you, to be everything you Need. To yearn for you, to dream of you, o bleed, proceed, to plead. Godspeed.
Little girls never dream of these days; these days complete with crack, needles, and whores. Fucking to survive, fucking to prove everyone wrong. Fucking to exude power, lust, SEX and immortality. I never dreamed of these days. I was going to be a ballerina, a writer, a photographer, a journalist for Christ's sake. I never hoped for days of cum, cheaters, and takers, blood, butchers, and criminals. Regular customers love me. They get what they want, they get their money's worth. Two knocks and a whisper and I'm in, out and paid in ten minutes. Seedy motels, middle class suburbia - it's all the fucking same. These dicks need a good fuck, I need my money and their wives their rebuttal, their denial, their status.
Beastly child, you’re less adored small, deformed, homely, abhorred Teeth like a broken window pane It’s ok, child, you need not explain It’s fine child, don’t mind a great deal You’ll never have much appeal
We are the music-makers. And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams; Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world forever, it seems.
These little girls that rise from corn fields bold & busting at the seams with hazy expectations unreceptive to the lives & movements of those growing & dying before them. Sallys, Emmys, & Maryanns they think they know it all, they do. Proclamations of youth too ripe to pick but much too mouthwatering to pass by. Tomorrow’s another day& another day of bursting skulls and spoiled greens.
Big fish in little pond will soon be swimming at sea I was a human collage, with your name all over my arms. It took you years to realize they were talking about me But it was just play pretend, never did any harm
You said I’m incapable of growing; smile You were never good at coping with change Or really a single thing that alters your lifestyle I always did find it somewhat strange