Flame

Okay, I see you. Hips swimming in hot pools of body and breath, eyes closed, all you feel is sound tugging at your waist. He’s pulling your hair you come up for air And I help. Wish it wasn’t so unfair. Greedy, but all I want is to share, you. Caress this radiating energy In…

Nothing.

One day I’ll decompose from your consciousness; One day you will stop looking around your apartment every morning, Seeing my paintings in both rooms, Thinking about how much I loved when you cooked biscuits and gravy for me. You’ll stop hearing me laugh at your drunken snoring, your mocking of stupid people. You’ll stop seeing…

What I Imagine love feels like when whispered into my ear

  You taste like milk and honey; Not just body, but the voice, The laugh, The simper. Sweet sounds of sunshine.. A caramel symphony, A Silk sheet of serenade. Every word a song…   Each breath we exchange, I want to fill my lungs with at capacity. It’s so clean… Not even freshly cut grass…

First Love Poem

I’d like to share my first love poem by yours truly haha! When I told ya’ll I’ve been writing since 98′ I wasn’t kiddin’ Shout out to 8 year old moi; two years after moving to The States and learning English. Enjoy! Poem. My sweet my love. Your my haert.   (heart) My sweet juse coconut. …

Porn-star Poet

04.05.18   15:00 She paints with her body on a canvas of climax. scream after moan, a novel is written. She tells of gentle euphoria and wild freedom; songs of belligerence, myths of captivity. Pleasure pallette or hoax? You decide. She is generous, yet filled with desire. Master of guile; a Gemini of duplicity. Magician of…

The Art of Not Giving a Fuck

10.10.17 I place emphasis on every little thing; looking forward to the meaning it will bring. Another day comes, another day goes. The sun still rises, the wind still blows. sip a frosty glass of wine, to down the crap of given time. So many wasted hours, so many hazy feels. Forgive myself for wrong…

No Feels

Feel no way.. Feel no way.. Lately I’m only painting grey. A washed out hue, of baby blue, A drunken shade of pink. Two dozen roses in the garden And they aren’t even red. The hell with the color of a flower, the petals still end up on your bed. I’m filling myself with a…