Love Letter #30

Dear Dm,

The full moon approaches. I am raw with emotion. I am wild and inconsolable. My heart is crushed. Plush with want. Red. Red. Red. I want to see you with my fingertips. Skin on skin. Nails to flesh. Delicate. Criminal. I want to write poems on your body and then eat them one by one. I know you have sensed my anger. I have been screaming at you in my head like a crazy person. I want to take those words back if I can. I do believe in love, in our love, in my love, in your love. I want to fuck off this excess energy. To burn it all away. I want to set fire to you using only friction; the friction of our souls as they collide in dreams that trigger.

I dreamt that I travelled to you. I felt myself rise from the bed, move down the stairs, and then out into the cold night air. I saw the stars fly by me as I fell horizontally across the sky. I watched them melt under desire. I found myself crossing countries just to be with your for a moment in a white basement. I saw our faces together in a pane of glass, in a dark corner, and you held my eyes open as something invisible forced its way inside of me. Back in my bed you smoothed away my pain with your fingertips and I think I would have climaxed if I’d had a moment more. Is this how you feel when you travel to me?

You are quite literally pulling the soul out of my body. If we stay apart we are going to shake apart. Tug harder. Pop the stiches that hold me together and eat them one by one.

With all that I am your DF



I shoulder the brunt

Of our reconciliations,

The impetuous monologues cast

To an irate and weathered audience.

Tonight tempest is a state of being.

Everything we know is either

Needless or sullied beyond lavation.

Your taciturn grin peels off,

Siphoning shadows of

Their metaphysical substance.

I don’t have enough time for conversation

I’d rather slice my veins lengthwise

Then contemplate another disaster.

Within our deepest reaches we find the graves of our ancestors.

So many impositions, voices cataloging

My every mistake. My complications

Seem so much more complicated

When paired with ensuing addiction.

I drink you quietly in the dark,

From one paradox to another

This is the shape of a loneliness

Built on materialism and absention.

Tonight gravity knows naught but repulsion.

I sense a Wordle in this poem or rather I believe their are some words in here that would go well in a Wordle. I didn’t feel much like writing today to be honest I had a practice National Prov in Swedish and the main theme was politics I am mentally exhausted.

Photo Challenge #30 “Crashing Cranes”

Paper Cranes

John Alunan

The space between your eyes

A hieroglyph, a presaging ghost,

The marrow disk of a lotus

A down of hairs so fine

Only a spinet could have laid them.

I cannot bare the color

Of the sea when still.

The parapets of packed sand

With their clam shell windows

That look on, white as a hospital.

Birds shatter against you

Like specimen slides

And your arms imposingly woven

Waiting for the pneumatic chalk

To settle and proclaim

One of us forfeit

Photo Challenge #1 Bad Connection


The silentious migration of our hearts

Conversations abate but do not dissolve

The imposition of volitional space

Wherever our lips meet there is a war

Intentions coiled like a noose

Promises of reunion and civility

Occasions that never present

Occasions that pass forgotten until

Inquiry reaps a deadening excuse

Venus vs. Mars

Room_II_by_the_surreal_artsArt By: the-surreal-arts

Her pitiless eyes

Hang from the ceiling

Like exposed light bulbs

Pendulous and accusatory

I plead simplicity

Scarifying palatable alibis

With my inconsonant grin


She poses in silence

Features tarnished and angular

I wrap my knuckles

Metaphorically against her chest

The wind howls contemptuously

From betwixt iron-plated ribs


Her ellipse is vulturine

Folded arms poetizing assault

If only her fists fell instead

Then I could wrap my arms

Around her tremulous form

And restore this wicked flame

To its rightful red


Some days I have trouble finding my muse and today was one of those days!



My heart, a collapsed halo,

Upon which your bony fingers

Still impatiently drum

An abacus plucking out

Invisible adversaries

For us each to overcome


This poem is fictional and also short. Lately my poems have all been woefully short. I am even more scattered-brained than usual which scarcely seems possible.


hr_giger_li_iArt By: Hans Rudolf Giger

My words

Are preserved

On declaration

Acidulous suppositions

That given

An adequate supply

Of oxygen

Would invalidate



An apology

Does not

Amnesia provide

This wreckage

Between us

Charred lips

And evicted hearts

Cannot be restored

To a state

That predates war


We have spoken

In the name

Of a vengeance

Cruelly disguised

By our egos

As justice

We are guilty


Given to the inferno

Of fugitive stimuli


A reading of the above poem


You will be happy to know this is fictional I haven’t been involved in any conflicts. I am hoping this peaceful streak continues! That said I am moody and impulsive so sometimes I have to give myself time outs



You are deception

The face behind

An occipital moon

I know you savagely

In the residue

Of a forgotten youth

Hands and hearts




I wear you

Like a noose




A breathless


To death

Choking, Choking


We tread cautiously

As though beneath

Our feet

The molten earth

Were irreparably cracked

We live in strained silence

Prisoners of war

Struggling, Struggling, Struggling