periwinkle perplexities

cuddling with the clouds

pondering if the sky always matches the lavender landscape

does this dawn define the divine?

the earth, the radiance.

if you listen to the heartbeat of the wind

she might let you wander here

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

swallowing sleep

the  debonair nightingale sings to the solemn shadow

Pulsating rapidly, her heart was ablaze but she breathes in the tundra tonight.

"Nothing's quite okay. But I'm here"

Unable to decide what song sounds sweet. She lingers in the water waiting for the burn to subside.

Cleansing the conscious, caressing the callous mind.

Fingering with fidelity, she fancies a frivolous flute to distract the sober sonnet she visualizes.

--

lies. lies lies

beautiful bouquets of those fibs half truths

luscious fabricated bullshit.

unadulterated desire is left omitted.

If the mattress made a movie, a waver of consent would need to be signed.

The sheets keep their secrets close. And laugh at the lying lioness.

No one sees her quite like her pillow. 

She has screamed into it as she is pierced by dicks jamming inside of her.

She has clasped on the cotton so tightly as she gets fucked from the front.

She lays her head there and giggles as she is being tickled by some funny fingers.

She also lays there..alone..and used that pillow as her boyfriend. As her hanker-chef..as her tissue.

As her closest confident. 

-- 

photo poetry. creative collaborative ; Photography by Anthony Machinski Words, Noel Marie

Seductive Sedative of Silence Showers in Spring

drowsy dreamers dance despite the hazy dark 

smoke serenades the scenery as leaves loiter the parking lot.

Cabernet charades caress her chardonnay clouds to clarified confusion.

did the angels miss the lip-less lioness or let them dry and bury the memory like the pet bird . 

She woke up from her day dream and rose in hopes of falling asleep when shes wide awake.

FUCK BEING A SECRET.

She is not Veronica. She just called herself that when she did not want anyone to know her real name. Her real name did not feel to fit her although she used it as an excuse whenever someone found her out.

She wanted to be a vixen. She wanted to be a puma. A cat that preyed in the dark mysterious alleys and hid in trees. But she was not a dark feline at all. She was a lioness that illuminated rays of sunshine when she walked even alone. But she rather be called something else. She wanted she yearned for the danger that seemed to be attracted to her. The good the truth frightened her quivering body. Her bones ached for solitude and serenity. Her naivity navigated her to sexual encounters that compiled into nothingness. They only were good stories to tell. But that is the thing thats all it was stories. The truth is she is simple. She is not original. Someone already has the name Veronica and someone else really is a vixen that she thought only she could possess.

Her story of who she is suppose to be is fading away like a cloud that passed by as fast as a semi truck drives fast off into the dark highway.

What story is she suppose to tell ? What is she suppose to feel. Shoulda Woulda Coulda.

Fuck it. Things are about to get real weird.

meow

I do not know how to play an instrument. I played the recorder in 3rd grade but that does not say much. I had a guitar for a minute. I sold it to a pawn shop. It was a friend of mines and he wrote a song about me on that wooden string instrument. It was about a girl and her red pea coat and how she always was running around with her redcoat. Funny I misplaced that jacket in New York in Manhattan four New Years ago. I rode a mechanical bull that night and kissed someone I shouldn't have.  Anyways I really always wanted to be a musician or a singer. I even was in chorus for a few years till I fainted. My chorus teacher yelled at me when I fell to the floor because she thought I was faking since I fainted so "gracefully". I quit shortly after and never went on stage again. Only time I have entered a stage was to dance at a club or get my diploma for my college graduation. But there is something about being on stage that I find ever so exhilarating. First time I attempted to sing for the hell of it was in a wooden log cabin in Maine. It was the same winter I went to New York for New Years. I remember being isolated and comforted with my friend Cory and Bobby Jackson with a Great Dane/Saint Benard pup. The first time i sang along with the drums and guitars without a worry or care if I sounded wrong. It may have been the kona or cratum tea or even the ongoing whiskey. But recently I have discovered that same feeling of being okay to be in my own skin.

I think I am okay with someone drawing me nude without being inebriated

Heat my body and chill my mind.

Theres frozen bodies near behind.

she placed a snowman in a sauna to see if he would melt.

he laughed at her attempt to thaw his frozen heart.

he took her hand and and froze her memory.

he asked her to keep his possessions safe so she decided a freezer is where she stow the coal.

Noone knew where it was and she did not even know the way to unlock the door after she agreed to be a snow angel in the summer nights.

she rather be warm but she knew she could adjust to the atmosphere. she wondered why he did not want to sweat out the stress in the sauna and was contemplating how she could get to that steamy sensation he showed her before. but as she walked in the blizzard she noticed he was not the friend that would play in the songs she sang.

there was no top coat and no fancy hat to be seen. he lacked the class and hide it well under a bed of green.

though she was intoxicated with her accent she discovered the snowman does melt away. she was lucky someone saw her frostbitten nose before he stole all the warmth of her days.

listening to grey or blue at four in the morning after hearing it for the first time in the middle of the day in a room full of people in a computer room in college. I remember I had headphones on and water filled eyes with a frog in my throat.  "I notice shes your lover but shes nowhere near your heart" were the lyrics that felt so similar to the scenerio as well as how the girl singing said she is with another boy hes fast asleep and wide awake sounds how it is now.

Yet I am ever so grateful he never fought for me. The best gift he did was show me how he could not give me what I wanted.

what I wanted was something different but the same thing that I get lately all the time. He always wanted me to stay home and watch movies and be a girl to do things for him. I do nice shit all the time and noone asks me to I just want to. Weird I used to want to prove I could be a sweetheart. I was I just was not his sweetheart. I think I am actually falling in love. I want it to last yet nothing last forever I just want to embrace myself in the moment.

Now I will go back into bed and let this new boy hold me tight. I am glad I get to kiss him and I do not even need mistle toe to let that shit happen. Its as natural as the sun rising.