As I am and no less.

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  • suture 12w


    i. from the blind spot your kaleidoscopic splendor unravels, where my world once black and blacker now commits moral blasphemy on its most unholy day. Soiled lace in a sepulchre confessional, the death of Spring is ushered in with the scent of daisies and fornication.

    ii. midsummer lust lays bare and propped, your glazed roast on a sarcophagus platter. How the depraved cry like milk starved babies but lay humbled in their graves; crushed underfoot by the sheer nudity of an inexplicable carnal voraciousness.

    iii. the lipstick smeared across your soulful portrait harks back to the ocean of poppies you were found in; snagging Opium kisses and chasing your inner fears back into the throat of night. Choking in this fever dream, you swallowed my tongue.

    iv. the frost has draped its ruthless shawl over my shoulders as your afterglow leaps from my gaping bedroom window. I lay ensnared in anaconda linen, sweating out the grave words of a Winter that would ensure I never see your Spring time bloom again.


  • suture 12w


    It begins with a pin prick. A dainty divot for your world to filter through.

    Before you know it, you're bleeding rainbows and making death cower like a frightened pup.

    Now the tethers of yesterday are melting into the smile of your vibrant morning.


  • suture 12w


    Bedaubed and besmirched
    in your filth can't wash this out,
    can't save myself.

    Swinging from the rafters
    of your penitentiary womb,
    by an umbilical noose.

    Cast me out,
    please cut me loose.


  • suture 13w


    For the first time,
    in the years I have
    been weathered by,
    I was weightless.

    Free of burden
    that wicked boulder
    once strapped
    to my aching back.

    Sheltered beneath
    your black wing,
    I followed you
    all the way home.

    My homecoming
    heralded by cacophony
    an ocean of arms
    a chorus of screams.

    You pressed the poison
    to my parched lips
    promising paradise
    in our new homestead.

    Only to be greeted
    by a rude awakening
    that snaps me back
    to this plane.

    Wistfully now
    I spend the moonlight
    cursing the Sun
    and waiting...

    Waiting for you
    to prowl like a cat
    and make my sleep
    much longer next time.


  • suture 14w

    It felt so natural, so wrong yet so right. Only when you are suffering, do you know such twisted delight.

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    My tranquility is raped
    and its solemn tears I cry
    in agony I am draped
    there's no hope for you nor I.

    The laughter never ceases
    echoing loudly inside
    a thousand shattered pieces
    my identity has died.

    A puppet usurps my place
    enveloped within my skin
    the mask replaces the face
    leaves me buried deep within.

    A prison of flesh and bone
    enslaved to breath and heartbeat
    I am trapped here all alone
    shackled to hate and defeat.


  • suture 15w

    sadness, pain, anxiety, fear

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    woven in silk

    these sutures
    of sorrow
    snare and subdue

    the fleetfooted
    fearful fleeing
    I sought

    to pitterpatter
    like a mouse
    on floorboards

    into the shell
    of wistful dark
    I call home.