*knock knock*

No Magic today people,

..try again tomorrow.

~

Wow.

 Fuck me silly.

 My poetry tonight has been dark and crude 

and terribly lewd.

 I need to lighten this shit up a bit.

 Ode to a kitten: 
They're soft.

 (Kinda like that robe I slipped on 
after I imagined having sex with you
 while in my tub last night)

There. 

Right back on track.

Revelation, possession;
your one, dark indiscretion.

I can see it.

Addiction and yearning;
blood, pulse, skin, burning.

I can bring it.

Predilection for aching;
a soul ripe to be taken.

I can give it.

Fixation, obsession;
your death bed confession.

I can be it.

~j~

Fuck You, Peter

we aren’t coming out to play

take your child like games 

and just go away

we're all grown up now

with truth in our hearts

no longer does your magic

affect my 

‘parts’

and let’s face it,

trips to that star on the right,

have been pretty sparse

so, 

tell all your lost boys

to clean up their toys

this girl wants her window cill back

to dance with the moon

and she is tired of your pixie dust

all over her room

it smells like her

and it makes me ill

and any minute now, 

i hear Jack will be coming up that hill

i just hope he’s finally left that bitch, Jill

or im calling Big Jack, 

even though I’m no fan of beans

I hear he treats his girls, 

like a queen.

.j.

don't ask for my heart

with no intentions to protect it

how dare you, again

after you’ve wrecked it

your poison and venom

has got it infected

with your half truth and avoidance,

you’ve done nothing but disrespect it

don’t you see, my blood, sweat, and tears,

 trying hard to
 resurrect it

so, get out the way

i’ve no time for you

i’m looking for true love

or, 

fuck it,

for now,

.. just someone to 
caress this.

.j.

Wondering how it might be

to have your heart in my house,

I took crayons and paper

and cut some out.

I then set them in places

I’d like you to be,

like ‘your head on my pillow’

or just ‘watching TV’.

I don’t care that they’re quiet

with nothing to say,

I only care that they’re here

at the end of my day.

I add more paper hearts

during my free time at night,

as my neighbors all gossip;

‘that girl just ain’t right’.

And I write this now,

sitting ankle deep,

amidst love made of paper,

the only kind I can keep.

~j~

simpler

I sometimes believe
that life
would be
so much
simpler
if only
I looked
like this
.
Then I stop
and realize
that
I'd likely be
so much
simpler
as well
and
I get over it
.
.j.

:::

Love doesn’t

live here

anymore,

took the window,

not the door,

left its hope

on the floor,

got not enough

and needed more.

:::

~j~

Look at that.

Yes.

A perfect fit.

Thank you, Friend.

.j.

Someone once asked
if I had a
‘fountain of a pen’.

No.
No pen.

In truth,
it’s more
like a
Dreaming Tree,
and I find
myself
constantly
tripping over
the roots.

Black
and blue,
here.

But I’m
surviving

.j.

Mickey;

I need to cancel our date for this Saturday.

I’m planning on getting a little Goofy,

instead,

if you know what I’m sayin’.

Sincerely;

Minnie

.j.

Ahh, 

But Alice,

hunting rabbits

 is such 

a 
grand 
adventure

.j.

Go right ahead, love.
Spread that sad song.
Don’t worry about me.
[i’ve been here all along]


j.

No sides nor walls.
No base nor form.
The wind blows through,
you can’t keep warm.
A hollow castle
with no king.
Your empty words
don’t mean a thing.

j.

Rotten
old memories
left in
rags and tatters,
dusky
blue-yellow bruise
of a heart
that’s been battered,
jagged skirting
of glass
where once
love did linger,
warm, damp
press of your lips,
and the pulse
of your fingers,
throbbing
hollow of pain
as I reminisce of we
and the us
that we were,
but not the us
that we’ll be.

j.

Alice

'Perhaps it hasn't one,' Alice ventured to remark.

"'Tut, tut, child!' said the Duchess.

'Everything's got a moral,

if only you can find it.'"

. - Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.

play me

you can play me like a flute

using your breath to tease my skin

your gentle touch across all my keys

~

you can play me like a guitar

plucking through all of my six strings

with your fingers

~

you can play me like a violin

supporting all my lower parts

with your shoulders

~

to which you can play me like a saxaphone

in soprano, alto, tenor, and baritone

~

when you see my body rise

and tell you i am ready

play me like a drum

and be the driving force

with persistent repetition

~

and i will be in perfect rhythm

and we shall be

our very own
musical
percussion

.

~j~