From the scars on my backto the mole on my neckit has my face andprobably my namea likeness of medreaming my dreams, sleeping my sleepit wears my shoesand walks a mile or twonever hurting, never lowbut fails to showwhen needed mostit comes and goeslike fickle pleasureit is my beinga thing that looks like me.

Do you ever?

Do you ever lie in wait at the corner of your bed hoping to wake before the morning alarm before day break but you just can't rest? Entombed the night before with a heavy head and the sombre embrace of the unseen lead that sits on your shoulder blades like a paper weight holding you… Continue reading Do you ever?

The error of my being

 In the error of my being enveloped in your breasts, I wake to protest my flailing love for women and women-like things Floating within your peripatetic mind to find you searching for a morsel of pain, the kind that debilitates your sorrows away sometimes I regret,  having asked you to wait, for me and myself,… Continue reading The error of my being