Afreet Son
soars high blistering
wings stitched with wax
melt
into liquid ache
her
arctic touch is the wind
the inevitable plunge to gin
induced reveries
the scorching sins
born, burnt and belied
in the hollow mind
of a-freed flight
pure sorcery is love
xxx
Dangling Hearts
When there is something very wrong
with us, it curls and curls in chirping
some horrible tune, thin and stingy
giving us pangs of goosebumps, keeping
our wants smiling and unrevealed
then the libertine heart gives a way
to butterflies flapping sick and slow
when the body betrays the will
as if time were not naked and lethal
as if souls were fledgling genitalia
a gathering of sentimental malice
a hypocrisy the silk dress laid open
on our uneven limbs, our metamorphosis
a rug of mysticism covers the canvas
when Vincent waves his thick brush
we’re a talking devil boy-horned-girl
beyond recognition, scandalously painted
why are you so gentle when you gaze?
our body aesthetics endure rough art
while the heat eats the color flesh-red
shivering little demon, a slick hunger
a hermaphrodite, construed wicked by god
ungodly speaks: “I am as all the daughters
of my father’s house” wet and hardened yet
alive in the fancies of dangling hearts
xxx
Narcissus
the dire need a blind deals
the cards lie back naked
for shadowing a dirge
tell me if your face is a monster
when you dream alone
a pond, a silver sky
reflect what the god giveth
morose kisses and muffled
measures the god taketh me
see not, envy is thy enemy
sell the seal clothing
no more lives the three of swords
no more a changeling Daphne
brings forth your happiness
surfaces silently perplexed
depravity so purely shines
smothered in your aspirations
the breath of a hanged man
covets your curved release
ten times a god you belie
xx
There’s no reason to like your body
except for the inked experience
the etchings as scars
the appearance of things on the flesh
like teeth marks of a lover lovingly-unkind
biting and ripping off your taboos
the nationalistic agenda of a fascist
in self-loathing
favoring one limb over the other
dismembers and dismembers
bright and gimmicky mouths
the meat equality lost
while the distance is kept alive
with bloody winged smiles
there is no reason to like your body
mortal and meek as mine this serving coil
a tunnel of luminous lust
wringing intertwined endlessly
until the liquidity is gone
when it’s so stale, spoiled in caverns
a tactile dream it becomes, rigid still
a holy presence, a hoax brilliantly-bright
the palpable orgasm you are:
sound and round
coloring and attaching fervently to
whatever comes handy in the absence of time
some juvenile god howls with you:
“go fight your soul, fight your desire
there’s no reason to like your body”
