PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I met her, how she sated the circumstantially caged confines to spot-on mesmerize my forgotten flame. We never dreamed ourselves worthy, but rather to die. Then burst open a proper brothel (I don’t regiment my audience), a craven desire like a sack of bricks kind of gist slaps you across the face, or with a silken whip lashes ever so tender attacks on your serpentine spine. I don’t care for the sappy stuff. Neither give two sorry shits for what type of words you might find flirtatious. A schizo sink in whiskey quicksand. Poet’s pretentious plight. I chime cheddar. 15 days no food no water. She sure is a pretty kitty. Small. Smaller. Smallest breed for a certainty unreal…

restless nights gone to waste by the intensity of my brainwaves

awake for several weeks without an end in sight. We fail to feel 

frequent the fun stuff surmising aged opinions like sour wine…

It contorted on the stairs, crawling on all fours. My senses tapped in, I didn’t want them. Easier to disappear. With each step the creature stretches, the rickety floorboards creak and it feels like needles unleashed in piercing spiral flurries eat me. It’s days like this I wish I didn’t exist.

When I wake up the new morning is usual as always. The single spoon of sugar stirred quickly in the coffee and then outside to view my sage bush who is fresh pruned. Crazy Daisies too. So far, much better than yesterday. I still miss her though. Heart shocks and throbs up the yin yang vertebrae spinal column kundalini for God. Ain’t nothin’ but a fling, let’s leave it at that, without a ring to call the sweet creature on display my own dainty little darling queen.

How many people are suicidal in this world?