Color Me Pissy

When the itsy spindle spikes its spry spell,
And the tickly tassel taunts tingly too,
I rummage, ravage, and, really, I raid,
Inspired in interest and insipid itch,
Partially placated pending my pain. 

When the itsy spindle spikes its spry spell,
And the tickly tassel taunts tingly too,
I rummage, ravage, and, really, I raid,
Inspired in interest and insipid itch,
Partially placated pending my pain.

The leather is stiff
Beneath my exposed bare skin,
Tanned dead skin on skin

The place where you were is cold
As the heat has long since gone 

When we fuck,
It’s simple,
Crude,
Corrupt.

When we laugh,
It’s tangy,
Tart,
Sweet.

When we touch,
It’s painful,
Sexy,
Soft.

When we breath,
It’s hard,
Heavy,
Penetrating.

But I’m so tired,
And We
Are no longer

Anything.

The consequences
Splay laziley across
My hazy conscience;

I can’t move,
The bliss of dismissed guilt
Is too joyous. 

Who else knows
The truth of failure?

Not failed attempts,
Failed lives?

Who can console me for
All my sins?

No one.
There is no one. 

Slowly, slowyly the wind burns
Across my fair skin,
Slowly across my freckless
And my sanity.

Brusquely, brusquely the wind churns,
Against my dried skin,
Feverish on the surface,
And my sanity.

Sexy, sexy the wind yearns
Apart from my skin,
Tainting, in paleness,
My sanity 

I used to dream of you taking me,
Just shoving into me,
Pushing in so deep that I came,
But no,
No.

We did that,
And it was good
But, it was…

You let me pay again,
Seriously?
It’s not like you ever
Made it worthwhile.
You have only taken,
Though the fingering is good.

I wish I had a nickel
For every time I’ve
Regretted you;
I wouldn’t be rich,
But I’d be able to pay off
My tuition. 

I keep crying over you,
But you sit back and smile,
Just like a jackass,
While I cringe over all we’ve done. 

There’s nothing left for me to give.
It’s not a bad, sad, used feeling,
Just a dull reality, a blank stare.

Virgin? Oh sweetie, I’m too old,
Too tired, too tried.
I’m only human, after all. 

End the era,
End it now;
Burn it bleak
Across the brow-
Burn in treacherous,
Blasted bow,
Burn it all for naught-
And now.

Torrents race across my soul,
A cruel reminder of my goal.
Nothings gained, all is lost:
Take no cue from my exhaust.

The river boils as a solid;
No, the flow is broken,
But the waves move ever the same,
Always forward in their lament;
Nothing can be said of the tide,
For it is relentless and cruel,
And the current sweeps it all under itself.

Crashing into the banks, sweeping,
Sloshing, swirling by,
The view is just as rugged.

As is my soul,
And my heart,
In this relentless bleeding tale. 

Late winter drizzle
Seeps into the newborn spring,
Spoiling the fresh earth;

I lose myself in the chill;
The hope has already drowned. 

It happened again.

The days were getting warmer, the winter was fading, but there were a few days of drizzle still to spoil the earth in late showers. I told myself no, no, no, not this time, not this time, but look at me, who am I kidding. I’ll laugh and cry latter, maybe die a little.

There you are, showing up late, not looking anything special. Me, a new blue shirt, polka dots that wrapped around playfully and tight across my chest, the bottom flaring out around my waist. You don’t know it yet, but my underwear is gunmetal gray and lacy, my bra is a penetrating black. You’ll like these.

You’ve had a few drinks, so have I, there go my clothes faster than my shame. We sprawl out a little awkward on the bed, I don’t know how to start. I never do. You pull your pants and boxers off as one, springing into the air against the elastic waistband like a catapult. You shuffle out of your shirt, you aren’t even trying, but you never had to.

It feels wrong today, well, a different type of wrong. I know I don’t want to, the stickiness of desire hasn’t plagued me with inhibition yet. Still, still, you came so far, I can’t just stop. You start touching me, you like to rock your fingers up against me inside. I wish it didn’t feel so good, but the illness has kicked in and I’m all passion, ready for everything.

So that’s what we do, everything. We do it everywhere and every way, and we do it well. You’ve gained a bit of weight, but hey, so have I, and I like how it feels slapping against me, a bit of soft to counter the hard.

We shower, just like we always shower, too many times. You stay the first night, and my reservations drift away as you sail your fingertips across my back. We massage, your shoulder hurts. Then the lights are out and there’s nothing to say, so we giggle to sleep. The dying thoughts of him keep throbbing, but I let them go, it’s too late for that.

The night holds its conscience, and I wake up, I’m panicked. I’m grasping, grasping but all I get is you, and I don’t know why the world feels so turned wrong. You pull me into a hug, my terror ebbs, it’s okay, everything is okay.

Morning comes in slow and soft, gray with some splotches of bright blue. We do it again, it feels good, it almost feels right, but that’s not true. We shower again, always the showering, and we cuddle. I wish it would feel like it did before, when your hold felt so right, and everything else was wrong.

Lunch or brunch, it’s time to eat. We walk in the drizzle, laughing heartlessly at the grayness. It’s so funny how it’s always bad. The people are everywhere though, and we can’t push into the lines enough to catch a hostess, not until that loud woman moves and then we are at the desk, thirty minutes. They take us to a crowded room, less crowded, less chaos, but full of people doing people things, mostly eating. The food is so tasty, I wish it didn’t cost so much. I pay for both of us.

We have to stop into a bookstore, the shelves lined with trash and gold. We get bored of the novelty and walk out, we walk to the tram and we ride it to it’s stop, we come back.  You’re almost ready again, you’re ready again, we play another round of ecstasy. Somewhere in the last day, you’ve watched me do myself, and you’ve let me do myself on top of you. That’s because it doesn’t work when you do it, but let’s not worry about that now. Let’s just lay down for awhile.

Wake up, watch the flashing men running back and forth, just like my mind, all across the screen. Half time, we get real lunch, it’s been awhile, then we come back and watch the end. Your team won, but you knew they would. You always win.

We lay down, the food sits a bit heavy, we’re too bloated so we sleep. The day has turned dusky, the somber sun too old for the horizon. We watch the ball bounce back and forth again, but I’m only feeling your body pressed next to mine, sitting, watching, waiting.

One more time, just one more. Five, that’s the number. But we’re tired and it’s late. We do the dance, but the thrill is taking a nap, slumbering off into oblivion. You shower, I shower, it’s late. What more is there. You check your bus schedule, it’s almost time. That’s when you tell me.

The world slows into still muted colors. My mind moves slower than my mouth, I’m agreeing, and I do agree, but still, still it is so much to know. Time kicks back in, the tears don’t quite fall from my eyes. It’s funny how I wanted this, knew this, knew it would happen, but couldn’t do it myself. Hearing it come from you somehow makes it impossible. There was never another way.

It started out a scream and died in a whimper. If only I could have been the voice and you the mouth. At last, last, please, let this be the end. This year has been too long, and my heart too tattered. I never want to again.

I took a trowel to my heart
And dug it out, glump by glump,
The juice-thick, oozing blood seeped,
Splurting out everywhere.

I took my chopped out heart
And squished it in a hole, splurt by splurt,
The dirt muddied into sticky stuff,
Clumping on my shoes.

I covered my dying heart
And forced it in the earth, push by push,
The grit grinding into my nails,
Too deep to clean out.