dark eyes

My daughter is gone. Gone. Gone. And I know not where. The priest says hell; her sins weights to pull her to those depths. The medicine man says dreamland; she is now a spirit to guide in times of trouble. So will she guide me? Will she tell me what to do now that my last child is gone, mauled and maimed and desecrated beyond recognition? Will she tell me how to look at her brothers, my non-sons, who cut at her for a defilement of innocence she was blameless for?

I cannot scream. I cannot speak. Life has taken my words, shoved them down my throat. I choke on their thick branches. My dreams are filled with crushing silence. Those who have words look away. They see my stomach church and my mouth open, ready to vomit at their feet all that remains unspoken.

I have her piece, her constant comfort. Splattered with blood, it flew to my breast, a magnet from mother to daughter. I cling. She did not know what it meant

he

gave it to her

and now for ryan

running without moving, struggling through a constant wash of marsh and time, ryan fell out of bed the second time that night.
and still no Al.
not next to her, not in the pocked-sized beep of her phone and not even at the back of her mind. that voice that persisted through daylight and dream had silenced itself, shut off with a click to nights ealier. shut off like it

died

was turned off by an unseen hand, a raucous dream turned silent nightmare.

these nightmares kept her rolling out of bed each night. Al’s silence echoed off ryan’s dreamscape, louder than her words had ever been. pieces of her hung off walls, ribbons of want and memory that stagnated in only 48hrs, not used to the quiet and the stillness

dON’t

was the message that flashed in her eyes, relentless and rotten.

ryan kept her phone under her pillow so her whole body would know when Al needed her.

wanted her

which was almost every night these days. she was just on the verge of complaining

                                          soccer
                                                                                       track
                                                               arabella
                                                                                                             the campaign
when

dON’t

happened. 4AM, not yet dawn, she had just given up, her blue eyes flickering under lotus petal lids.

al-fragment

a room. a light. a dark hole in a blackened roof struggled. she watched it

ryan

but looked away before it gave out in her eyes.

fragments

we picked words out of books and spent 2 minutes on each...

***********************

vocabulary is limited her words bound by years and covered in the skin of men. vocabulary reaches down and finds a bluegirlchild underneath a hat covered in a flood. the salt licks at the droplets on dirty eyelashes the black bruises of too many nights in a hot empty bed can’t hide can’t brighten can’t extinguish the bright sexstars

**********************

she attached him to her wall, buttoned his back to the pins waiting for him, hung him up where she would see him every night. his eyes went on hooks and his wrists snapped at the joint. they popped. she walked back, back to his front, back to his eyes, and felt his pieces throw themselves at her feet.

beg

plead

unhook our fingers unlead our toes and let us back inside you.

but he is on her wall.

*************************

balance on my forehead, balance on me and mine and you will find that the crater into which you fall is a sweet oblivion. search for balance and find. search for chaos and find it in me, inside me, escape your disordered balance into my chaotic gasp, the breaths you find in me knock your world off its balance off its kilter let me chaos your body until it wraps with mine let me unlock your knees and pinion your eyes and let me let you find balance

*************************

Baptists of oil and water. Baptists, papists, witches and black glass. Wood together with mined words making cold desire flicker in the back of a sorcerered mind. She looks at the moon while the sun filters through a book of Lye under the habit of a peachblooded womanpriest who has never bled. Time is the pit of a lie, the whole of a matriculated masticated mess of a life only worthy of the sweetest hell. Words vomit through the star-riddled chest of a witch, split her tongue in three truthtelling snakesofEve. They swallow the sun.

*************************

mock fuck on a balcony beach crest on a wave far above the venom that runs through her veins through her cunt to my tongues mock the sacred act mock with fingers deep and screams that tear across painted skin and mock with teeth buried underneath lips searched out and sought after and killed with blunt words and black holes

**************************

 the leather strap rested against her back, still for just a moment. still for a moment of breath. stilltillill is again. the entity above her inhaled the room and cackled a sigh. wings beat breath, liquor pours out of noxious pores, skin seeps with liquid bloodlight. blueglass nails run down a back of sin, the strap caresses her rib-bone-skars.

 

***************************

the stairs up to her room creep in the moonswept light of eyes. walking up, walking up stars made of stairs, i feel for each step with a foot flat with weary desire. top it all off with a bit of a tease. the body glows, floats, whispers out of reach of my moaning fingertips that reach. one wrong step, lunge for a hand but it disappears, lets go, drops

midnightwanderings

wrapped in her words, pieces of women weave my tongue, through my mouth, into a gape a hole left by her and her and me and him and him and themthemthem.

i have lost my i, lost it in fat cells and bright lips, thick belts covering new and thick wigs lost in a closet of hiding.

hide behind thecolortheblacktheredandthe chemicals that burn. hide behind the wrap and the picturesimages                   eyes                 that bore. hide. behind bricks of w o r d s and walls of grease. lose.

lostdesire.

 a dream in the night, a piece of desire, a fake hiding place, a moan and a gasp and a blocked tear. teer. tare. tear through her, rip into a memory, desiccate and desecrate and destroy.

burn

burn into ashes unrecognizable and without power

haunting power

find. a placenotahidingplace. find. air and hydrogen. find.

find

i disconnected my heart

cut myself on the wires

disconnected. disconnect. unplug. pull out. in time. don’t worry. uselesspillspainand blood.

pixels and pigments, realityonlyreality mine. mine.

synapses betrayal erase lost out of pain hold my hands don’t leave

don’t

leave

AL

the bag drops at her feet. a cloud of dust ryan runs up her legs. black and foreign, Al looks through it, willing it to open to implode to fall into the earth with buildings and days and swallow it all whole, take it all away, take it all back, churn it into something better, something bright, and bring it back to her

ryanryanryanryan

he stands. the door. the door stands with him. iron, steel, closed glass, unbreaking and unbreakable.

keys

            cell

                        choice

                                    god

hand them over

and walk

time stop i stop for you i time to you give my time to you take your timeyearslife                   time

be

open

fly through the open be the weightless be

be in love be in life and death and the smallsmallspace in between

breathe. breathe for me, breathe when i can't

breathe for me

crack open you heart, pour into my hunger, seep into me and let me feed off your air, feed off your light

let me let me hide inside you, push through your maze, wind through the labyrinth and steal

you

beminebeminebe

sinews and bone, muscle of us, grow into me

grow

twine up my skin, twist round my fingers, my mouth growgrowgrow

lose me. lose me in blossom, lose me in a vine, lose me forever

ever

a tower

a tower of words

piece by piece

placed by

eyes

fingers

light

intentional

a tower of words

stands over

a village of

lovers

a village of

hounds

a village of

place

a tower of words

tall and

straight

climbed by

an

everytime

everywhere

everywhen

woman of moon

and light

a tower of words

chipped at by winds

torn by sleet and

dark white snow

a fortress of

language

built against

the inevitable beauty

of time

no door

no window

a hand

washes through

so run child

run

run

dream four

(written on saturday, but my internet was down)

bright eyes miss the stars the blue the skin the touch miss you hate you hate her hate the missing the missing piece heart-piece no peace for this soul, not without eyes so bright in a dark night sky not without the return of a sun where has he gone? the moon the moon the moon is too much too much in its mystery and quiet the moonlight too sensuous too delicate the stars too bright without the sun to dim them. i want to miss the sun miss the heat miss the power-rays but i crave crave crave that silent moonlight, watch for that luminous moonrise, mourn each inevitable moonset. she smiles down even when she is dark, even when the stars are foreign, no map to guide my way, she still keeps me, welcomes me, beckons me to stay in this this night, this new home, feels like home, a new new home, home is where the heart is, her eyes have my heart, my heart, keep it keep it unknown at the back of your stars, keep it safe for me, protect it like i can't, like i won't, don't throw it around, throw it away, throw it to the curbside to be found by a stranger, what stranger? not my stranger. stranger stranger stranger than what? that who? than her or him? whim who? him him. oh, him. he's gone, lost in a shadow, buried by the moon, powerless in the night, without the sun, powerless to control or purge or pain or cut and she, with with power, will not, cannot, too far too much too much too much for her soul, her eyes, words words words steeped in fear, steeped in real, steeped in raw and dreams and pure pure fantasy. words on a page, words on a screen, cold words, regretted words, necessary words, death and life and blood words, ink is blood blood spilled on a page. oh what a cliche . not a clichay. cliche.

her, another, her, same soft skin, same dark back, same touchable touchable shoulders, but no starts here. here are pools, are ponds, are wells of gold, of wealth, of timeless timeless love, nights under moons, knights hovering in eyes, always present, always watching, always there, still there, still stealing, invading, not stealing not
not

not
what i want, to pour into that that twilight, that beautiful in-between, such a perfect world, why ruin it with a castle? castles are for the night, for the moon, for the stars, build a castle under bright stars, light a candle, wish for bright eyes, remember remember remember and don't regret don't think think from death from death her eyes will still shine, not darkened, not dimmed by years but brightened by memory and the veil of time.

build a castle for one, a castle on the ground, a castle in the mud and grime and dirt, crystals growing from filth, beauty and pristine goodness, your goodness, moonlight goodness, why goodness? why not passion or lust or beauty or pain? art art art is not built on goodness, art is built on life, and life is not good, life is hard and thorny and struggling for light, for moonlight, sun or moon? decision. where to live, where to buy, build, purchase this castle, this world of dreams and light.