Taste of Apathy

Your hand glances cheek and I am downturned
shut up silent but for the breath
the beat and the flutter of your eyes REM
state of being incommunicado
why are you here?
fingers thread hair like ribbon
red flowing to tie hands in indecisive knots before you
kiss me to prove your point;you own me.
Only because I let you.
My digits dance on your skin
over subtle curve of backhip and trapezeus to artfully
dodge the fall.
No safetynet here to sudden stop
that funny fluttered feelingof JUMP catastrophe
ensuing as your tongueslides against pink lips
pink heartvalentine torn burned shredded
push you away because
you do not love me you love you
and the way you feel when
my smile tells you I am
ready for the taste of my own
apathy.

The War is in your head. . .

There is nothing worse than the sound of your own breath
she says as she turns her languid sharp angles
to pierce me with her hips and thighs;
some how the body lies, doesn't it?
I thought that you might love me, she says,
as if to illicit some commentary.
I give her only her own thoughts back.
After all, this is war.
This is war with its search engines and tanks
to blast love directly out of the coastal waters.
Oh, we thought we were safe in the harbor.
Rocket's red glare glances off the social mirror
and we are not all free, even here, even now
as long as no one has what they want.
She shifts her form again lips like an arrow
into open space mouth to spill her words
spill her bile and hatred into my heart.
I regurgitate her love, void my belly
a hundred times and close my eyes;
This is not my America. This is not mine.
There is nothing worse than the sound
of your own breath, she repeats.
Yes there is, the fetid breath of the
tolerated intolerance in your sheets.

Snakes and Ladders

They changed the game to something
less fearsome or fun
made it PC
ok to play with any run of the mill
plastic kind of player.
But once there were snakes
not chutes to slide down.
I used to imagine how it might feel
to slide down scales
and wondered if the snake
would giggle or hiss
open wide its mouth
swallow me up
or would it simply
slither slink and simper
at being so ill used?

Are you listening....

Because everytime I say a prayer
it seems to get worse
not better
Because everytime I think things
will be all right they
are not.
Because everytime he walks into
my door my heart
remembers
everything it should forget.
But I forgive us like you do
because it is all I can do
isn't it
I must stand here and hope against
the obvious that you really
are listening
And that I am just not saying the
right words to make you
understand
how much I need to forget.
Maybe you do listen when my lips
pursed begin to move against
tears at night
Maybe you do listen when my mind
searches dark corners for
desperate solace
Maybe you do listen but you are
trapped like me and cannot
hammer out
I love you in the dark.