In His Womb

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In His Womb - You can't downsize your close up. -

Shardsmooth

I’m slipping you notes
under the glass door
with pieces of maps
drawn on the back
each kiss I blow you
is a ship set asail
use these lines wisely
while you navigate to me

- C

(and a loud laughter was heard from the background of the long, dark alley to the left)

Echoing

(in reckoning)

the world drowns out
more often these days
my head is split between that
and this
little nest we’re building
with threads of hope
to welcome love
right with season.

I’m a man of a certain age
who’s planted seeds in meadows far
and some trees have grown
but out of sight
and to lull you close
makes me feel more alive
as the streams still run dry
in this drought times

my chest still hurts
under the sound of news
but now, to have you
to escape into
and come back home
with arms bearing fruit
is sweet
sweet
sweet

- C

Lustbomb

I like you for the way your beauty justifies the worth all the assholes before you have let slide past their hands. For the way you look like the perfect trophy for the boy who never won 1st place. You compile all the wrong and worst reasons my lust is cast upon you. I had secretly whispered your name in prayers to Desire for two years, before you knocked on my window to see if I would look your direction. I saw you, when I was invisible. Then I stole your eyes for a minute, by the door, just before you took the stage, and the spotlight iluminated your game, and I saw through your lines too clearly to still believe the role you play.

I know you are trouble. Reason why, as I write the next scene on my mind, I choose not to kiss you. The hook on your tongue is still dirty with the moan of the last boy you reeled in, and I’m not good at being scalped. There are monsters of unwritten wrath to fly out off this head faster than Pegasus ever could. So it goes like this: you’ll lean closer, as I ease out the backdoor in the middle of the party, and as I spin out of your hands and you ask me why, I’ll say “because you’re sharp and I don’t wanna get hurt”, and shoot you a stare of twin bullets the color of deer eyes. And then, you’ll turn to stone. Maybe not for too long, but for long enough that you’ll never ever ever gonna be able to forget the one who managed to part open for you, wider than any of your conquests ever could, without having to fall apart. A dove will fall to the ground. And concrete will be the color of the sound that will wrap around the walls, before you’re filled Red again.

I will never love you. That will never leave you. We will never know - but we’ll always think of what could have been, had I been ordinary and you, a dream.

We’re not.

- C

Empty Perfume Bottles

papercut boys
an army of toys
the walking void
wears their boots.
on heels built of lies
well accessorized
behind beards & tattoos
parading their best
coverage assets
toned guns
squared pecs
packed in cigarette
smoke
& mirrors
are friends
who would never dare
to show their true bends
to the circle-jerk tools.
the meaning of words
spelled backwards
to knot-in their tongues
unlocks the password
to this club.
hipster lumberjacks
ginger naivettes
skin white as snow
cold eyed pompadours.
they hold the world
in their hands
the name of any man
longs to be said
and tasted fool
through those lips
kissed wet.
it’s the fiercest race
to get 1st place
atop a line of conquests
made to fade
the only sight
to lick their eyes
is the reflection of their own face.
empty perfume bottles
lined on the ledge
glistening under the sunlight
their glossy cuts
of hollow glass.
time out for the one
who’s bringing out his own Sun
I’ll disengage my heart numb
from this lustbomb
of a glitter mess.

- C

Jigsaw

.
there’s a galaxy resting on my hair
swirling the top of my head
screwing me into the blueprint
of where dreams fall into reality

..
you think this is my poetic bullshit
some transcendant ghost ship
sailing adrift into the hollow of pretend words said aloud.


think again. [see me whole] know the truth. [you never could]

….
[I feel the knife is in my hands
the cheese is on my tongue
fermenting pheromones
to be spat out into the world]

…..
you will come to me
I’m a Siren sea.

- C

tug of war

I think Danger
is the commom denominator
from where we both stand
the horizon looks just as sharp
My map has more lines travelled
your bonus is in yet to unravel
new wounds  to hurt good
on places my skin is no longer soft
you reel me in
your green tumbling steps
I know for fact it’ll hurt
it don’t matter
how engaged your words
against the rage that fought your sword
too much honey on one tongue
is only sweet when swallowed
So you give me your cold shoulder
when my lips become a boulder
in the way my thoughts may fall
off the hole through where my head
has been officially deemed mad
due to a speech that ain’t sound
when there are games still to be played out.
but look at us
here I am, at 03:28am
unable to go to my bed
without the pillow of your “goodnight”.
and there you are
playing pretend
you’re not around to put an end
to this need we both feed
to drag each other down the line
me wanting this.
you playing dismiss.
this is so dangerous.
this is so dangerous….

- C

“Maybe poems are made of breath, the way water,
cajoled to boil, says, This is my soul, freed.”

Dean Young, from “Scarecrow on Fire” (via proustitute)

(via problem-with-average)

#Dean Young   #poems   #poetry   #prose   #breath   #water  

Siamese Battleships

like Ocean
hungry for land
licking swallowed the sand
like Lava
descending mountain
burning down the grass
like Blackholes
hiding in the pupils of my eyes
sucking you in

like we should even be dancing this one song
like all things dangerous & deep
do me out undone

like we could do no wrong
pretending to belong

Sun orbiting Sun.

Sanity, gone.
this is so dangerous.

- C

Foolstrapped

[ this is so dangerous
you inching in on the edge of my leave
just as I quit preying boys from your league
me wanting this
without clear words to be spoken
but the weight of the signs are failing the tokens
we’re producing to cover our flair for the game
of refusing to give this disaster baby a name
faking a distance that’s quick to fade
once we hear the other’s voice
pronouncing each other’s name ]

***

this is so dangerous
you inching in on the edge as I leave
boys from your league
can’t make such pledge
me wanting this
fervently quiet
with words that surf on intentions unsaid
you say I shoot stars from my lips
when you read your fortune on the thoughts from my head
you’re dreaming me
the way I dreamed you in
deliriously surreal
gardens of Venus Flytraps
feet halfway in
hems stuck on the teeth
by God, we’re adrift
into a minefield track
this is so dangerous
this is so dangerous…

- C