In His Womb


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

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
& 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


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


[ 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

the open mine

I say my prayers
through lips black
kissed soot & ash
on forehead dead
across the glass
laid to rest
under piles of
& fins
& stings
I’m Chimera
riding dreams
into the Desert
of human things
there sail Oceans
in rage I cry
it’s raining tonight
it’s Night

- C


the trees will speak
to no ears
the city engulfed me
unlikely warm
though in Winter I’ve come.
but here are arms
that’ve longed for me
and parts I laid to sleep
to dive into the bottom
of the whole.

I’m drowning in the undercurrent
to reemerge in seafoam.

- C

double diamond time

I still own myself.
In a world of theft, where Innocence is not a place you return to to rejuvenate, that’s as big a statement as there is. Even as I plunge down into the abyss’ black, I do not let go of what I am. There are lines that are drawn from the blueprint. Some things can be broken, but never sold.

- C

and not need more blood from the tip of your Star

from the safety of my greenerie
I read the World catching fire
the sky can no longer shelter The Dreams
I wanna scream:
'Madness! Madness!'
I’m detaching from the seams
of Sanity
I’m slipping into the Blackness
Mother Night, offer me a nest
where I can resume to Nothing
so that this skin is made senseless
so that these shoes are filled with absence
and this Existence, made weightless.
there is no point being a Spark
when The Matchsticks can’t ignite a Start.

- C