Scions Sing the Summer Winds

The fire that burns. Opalescent words cascade vivaciously.
Cinders spread flames, winds that singe. Stars tumbling down broken dark paths. Where wicked words lull them into faiths of madness.
The cascade that pools. Claret depths sickly swirling, rich and thick as syrup.
The scions sing the summer winds. Rich fury, lush whispers. Beguiling. Ever enticing, roils the form forbidden, igniting conflagration soul consuming.

Burn

My mouth a cup
Overflowing with saccharine
Sugared life
Riotous crimson lies
I turn
Observe a vicious star
Open the tongued portal
Exhale
Ash spilled on bitter winds
Burn

What Dreams May Come

I am waiting for you. I see you just there. I want you so much it is killing me. But I would rather die this death than be without you. Do you see me the way that I see you? And are you so very far away that you do not come to me now? I will still be waiting when you get here. My breath is too great for my chest, costae straining to contain what atmosphere the pneumos can absorb as my heart swells. I’m burning, I’m breaking, I’m waiting for you.

I will wait forever.

In waking I can still feel the warm press of your body crushing down upon mine. In the crowded room where we osculate there is only the muted thunder, cacophony in miniscule. All of my focus on you, in you. I incense you; inhale you – you are etched upon my mind more intense than my best recollections; a supernova sunset. In waking I breathe and scent you in the air, my frantic frenetic searching otiosely. I can taste you still upon my labium, strong and supple the press of your superioris upon mine.

I am still perambulating those amplitudes on your flesh when corporeality crowds in, overbearing and callous. Consciousness is the bitch thieving you away. The ache of it is breaking my heart, even in this moment centuries pass and I die in muted silence – how bitter sweet the pain. But silently in the early mornings I am stealing myself back to you, because it is there you are waiting for me. I want to trace my life upon your syncytium, burn it to ash and blow it away on a bitter sea wind before giving you mine.

It’s your eyes, burnished and blackened honey – soul consuming. We do not need to articulate. You do not need to move as I am already crashing into you the instant those umber orbs find mine supernova of hypergiants. Everything laid open and bare, there is no fear – only the need to touch, those epochs when not even flesh has caressed and all is only body heat and nearness Einstein makes theories on in thinking rooms far away from here and now…

My moon will rise and set within you and that is all that I will ever need.

I’m waiting for you.

All Of It's Futile You Know

She would prepare everything. Or rather she had, at least mostly. Gathering the collective tools, random items more befitting a [medical examiner] [butcher] [mortician]; the stainless steel shimmered softly – with that soft wire scrub sheen so many medical trays cloned. Laying out the tarpaulin, and cocking her head softly to the side she found beauty in it. Clenching her jaw and blinking furiously to blot out the seas which burned with acid fire in her eyes, that’s the problem, she whispered; more to herself than to the man.

Or was he a boy?

She hadn’t decided.

She always found the beauty in everything. Even in her own wretched pain, the festering rot coiling within her soul – that lancing burn that sometimes blocked out EVERYTHING, even the ability to breathe… Sighing, like the earth after genocidal tidal waves vain efforts at a message no one wants to hear, she smoothed the last of the semi-translucent petrol. Head bent, her gaze was lost - seeing beyond the staccato tile floor - futile endeavors to salvage memories she felt she needed.

What she really needed was hope - but that was far beyond her now.

She turned her gaze back to the center of the room, the frigid cadaver table - stark and brutal even as it lacked quick edges or gothic décor. To the organism breathing, those shallow inhalations only the comatose or deeply drugged do. The conflagration smoldered her extremities, they twitched as though acid had pooled at the tips; aching itch – the need to touch.

No thoughts had formed or time had passed it seemed, INSTANTLY she was beside him; bent and leaning slightly over him and watching, the way hazmat crews observed CHERNOBYL or HIROSHIMA – with that morbid enthrallment engrossing every iota of their being. Lighting gently upon his clavicle, her forefinger hummed with the soft heat his body gave, tracing over the ridge the ice eased softly from that INTREPID digit. Oxygen optional, her breath froze as slowly she traced along the length of brachiating bone and curling, the way cars curve around long highways doubling back along themselves, up and along the throat, climbing the soft hill of the sternomastoid in soft ascension of the mandible and tracing downward. Ceding upon his lips, orbs lidded she breathed, crawling along the stillness that had consumed her. Pulling away so that her distals grazed his face, she stood.

He hadn’t moved, and in many respects appeared DEAD. But he was alive; she NEEDED him to be alive. Shoving the needle into the carotid, the thrum of his heart’s song traveling in gentle permeation through the metal and plastic of the hypodermic, sweeping upwards into the chilling phalanges – she paused. Pressing in bitter vehemence with prehensile, the serum vacated its holding cell; finding a new journey within that sanguine causeway.

Hoisting the weighted surgeon’s apron over her head, she admired the thick slickness of it; the matte black almost absorbing light, as though it were destined for this and was ready nigh eager to soak the claret sprays into itself. Turning to behold him, the char pigmented vinyl gloves slid across the steel tray, ushering a sadistic whisper into the silence this place had claimed. The fluttering of his lids told her he was waking, as did the change in his respiration. Sharp and swift, the inhalation devouring as much atmosphere as possible; awareness surged culminating in the rapid flick to open those soulful windows. Pulling those void gauntlets over her writhing digits, he saw her and remembrance and recognition blazed like stars in those windows. Grasping the hacksaw she sighed and looked at him directly, gazes locking.

You’re beautiful.

But that just isn’t enough.

Quicksand Eyes

Black pools those
Quick Sand Eyes
Consuming
Alluring
I want to
Be buried within
You
Captivated
Wild animal entranced
Ensnared Spellbound Enthralled Fascinated Awestruck Mesmerized
Dizzy and willing to fall
If you say you will
Catch me
I want to
need to have to have you
Watch you sleep
Observe the life you live
When no one else is looking
Fear is growing in me
Burning with the need to run
I could
If only you would look away…

Claret Mire

Randomly running through some vivid night, the stars will burn linear in confusion and pain. Thick the clawed branches of trees vicious as those frenemies having snuck up in front of you – those sheep in wolves clothing. Mild tempered curs, static; and everyone knows static equivocates death. Thorns and thistles, scattered and strewn over wild grounds amidst the scratching vegetation pierce and shred; leaving sanguine trail. Blood burned away long ago and those vessels fill with the acid that drives. Pumping, life’s drum beats a broken song. And the seas those windows leak could drown worlds in wake. Ripping through foliage, which grabs and clutches silken tresses abandoned in the urgency of need to be away.

Forest gives way to ruins, demolished and torched. Thoughtlessly carried on appendages bruised and numb with frost, moved by wires pulsing electricity from a generator on automatic pilot. Through arching doorways into shadowed realms, over smooth granite dark as void roped with argentate slices – silver veins in the ebon coat of dying wolves. Echoing slaps ring throughout chorused with gentle snapping, tattered garb mockingly white.

Stumble as earth gives way, like those reeds when the wind is high from the Hunt. The crimson stain climbing those pale threads perplexes, pushing on to wade through this claret mire. Plunging deeper as the ruby morass coats, surging up gullet, covering shoulders and clinging to mane. Some rubicund sand trap, dragging down.

How many can boast of drowning within blood marshes?

Silence Is A Killer

His breath billows out, white clouds from the mouths of god, and in stillness she remains – like death within shadows praying for her heart’s sake he notices. All whisper and hush, silence dynamic, the air so cold her fingers burn and yet caught in his gaze there is nothing but the flame it stirs; phoenix tending to hearth flame, and she can’t wait to burn. His movements jagged, jaunt wolf rogue and lone trailing terrain foreign and ripe with disastrous possibilities. She leans in, unbidden and unable to refuse; only those dust winged nocturnals know of this as they rush into the flame, calling that way only vampires sing ripe humanity to their death.

If he can see the dark flame hidden betwixt the shadows they shall converge; violent passion as fire and water, rippling exploding energy –dangerous with allure that consumes with a totality gods wish they knew of– Caress the frigid, measured and toiling, leisurely with a languorous pace heady as love potions of men with morals of jinn in back allies of cities known for danger. Collision firm and supple, steel and leather tangled as string cat’s attack, obliterated with desire thick and spicy – mead a shade only blood knows.

Clasping mandible, dread wolf in a vice grip, fingers burning white hot where they press; dominate romance; encroaching along with distal phalanx, sweet in dawdling rate over labellum soft. Intake sharp in hesitance, as delicate the digit is rolled over incisor lengthy and scalpel sharp; lack of fear induces trembling at acceptance forever unknown. Saccharine and consuming, plummet into the moment -furious longing, smoldering necessity, overwhelming ache. That muzzle is burrowed deep inside the hollows of his rachen nipping, nuzzling, grazing; wandering in utter delicacy lest flesh be rent and life spilled.

Impacting cavitas oris split all boundaries leaving only the conflagration, vivid and alive and enveloping as unconsciousness – without escape. Exploration bursts violent red, fury of the unsatisfied. Desire to consume, intake, devour overshadowing logic and caution; tsunamis capable of utter annihilation crashing into one another, shattering reminiscent of stars.

Faltering he pulls away, unsure of the surge and its capacity to obliterate all else; wildly ensnaring her fingers encase his face jerking his vision to hers. Within her orbs all of her soul is lay bare, rapid gasp as the desire contained within is not just skin deep; she’d devour him with her soul and replace his with hers given the opportunity…

Her lids raise and the realization all of this perceivable only within her heart’s wish filled those spheres with oceans. Raising her muzzle to the sky she breathes deep, implanting bits of his soul within hers and flesh; memory of what she cannot have bearable if given the tools to dream with. As he turns his eyes catch hers and silently their gaze’s burn into each others, eons pass and worlds die as stars are born; and her soul blazes with the want to speak of her need for him –

…If only I could understand the words your soul whispers to me

The Tragedy Of Cats

Why is it some mammals just insist upon rubbing you down so as to grant you a good covering of their fur?

And out from some Greek Tragedy it is always the ones you find yourself allergic to.

I am sitting demurely, masticating the fur betwixt my toes and here SHE comes. Strutting as though SHE is the daughter of Bastet; some pampered elegant royal temple cat. Presence a lie, SHE’s all the class of an abandoned rotten academy; with more litters than toes upon HER paws. I swiftly veil my contempt – truly such trickery is mastered by cats alone. SHE attempts to do the same; a leech in a fur coat – it is in vein.

Deftly do I descend to meet HER eye to eye; characteristic of my eminence. HER lip curls, but SHE catches HERSELF and refrains from full snarl. Mine eyes have seen the game, and I am a better player – to say Master is being modest. Swiftly do I see all SHE has to offer, an estimation to be calculated and I have yet to underestimate the underhandedness of my opponent. SHE sidles up to me, hoping to feign obedience and compliance while smothering my scent with HERS marking dominance perhaps to illicit and provoke some rank response. HER face burrows beneath my chin and as SHE glides I bury my face into HER neck and let HER glide along to the tip of HER barely furred tail. SHE begins to saunter off and stops abruptly realizing that HER scent lies beneath mine.

The fury within HER eyes burns and smolders as HER fur alights to stand upon end. I sit lightly and await HER movement. A physical attack is dubious, yet not entirely out of the question; I am easily twice her size however, the supreme thickness of my coat dampers the judgment to my strength as well as hiding ancient battle scars.

SHE yowls as though a lit firecracker has been tied to HER tail. The attention of Lead Mouser has been caught and casually alert he saunters over. SHE caresses him, mewling woe betides as though mine ears are suddenly deaf and I cannot hear HER calls of betrayal and dictation, authoritarianism in the extreme. His gaze levels the room and all cats stop motion keening their heads in our direction. Decorously I stop cleaning my paw before dethroning him with a Hiroshima glare.

Now this is getting interesting…

Mist

Did you lie when god slept on Thursday?
Or was it the Saturday before?
Sometimes I wonder if you mean it.
Are you acting?
See this mask?
I found it.
Who dropped it?
By the way, I found your dagger...
In the interspatial of the fifth and sixth
Along my spine.

I walked along the rainy sidewalk.
The Cemetery sighed
I found myself on the muddied ground
Red rain burned my eye.
A lie, the blood upon the tomb stones is myne

The fog is harsh and thick
I
Can't
See
Is it rain or wet snow?

I keep clenching furiously
Sticky clothes
I hate the wet tack
And where are you!?!
You said you'd always be there for me
But you're not