The Prince of darkness

My bright and shining star

The greatest Prince of them all

Watch him dance and sing


Watch him go

A sexy style

His sweet style

Melts your heart


Makes you smile

Snap your fingers

Tap your toes

My Prince


Watch him dance

The way he moves

He is enough

To drive you wild


Those bedroom eyes

Lips so sweet

Love me tender

Love me wild


.....My Prince.......



Giving Air

The corner of the room is bound by a drawstring
that's dotted with flies all alight in glass coffins.
I'd plan it as a way to set a mood,
but have yet to use it for more than writer's atmosphere.

My bed beneath and engulfed by jointed walls
is often spread about in the nude, shaken with dust,
and willing to have me in it whether washed or unwashed.

I'm thankful for the closet, which houses no bodies,
and is the only clear access to the mind of our structure.
I use it by my whimsy and tend to toss it scraps
of previous adornments which might yet be hung.

There is excess of oxygen and no one with to share it.
There was at once a warmer touch that used to breathe it too,
but after such long nights spent confined to self,
I know it's only mine.

As I forge my gradual way, I cannot help my eye,
which does not listen and only sees those who scurry by.
Seeking her, despite myself, despite all the advice:
seeking newest, loving lips to offer all my air.

View sivus's Full Portfolio