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These are poetry drafts. I consider all my poetry in a constant state of drafting, some with revision ongoing, others merely gathering dust. Some have been published but will still be considered drafts.

N.B. When these posts were imported I noticed some of my reblogs also got pulled in. It should be ovious from the contents that they are reblogs from other writers. I am in the process of removing those posts.

deaf ears

The view of the world I present
through my writing,
an adjusted layered
a belusted view of the void,
the waves unruled
the manspreading of kings
mansplaining to --

deaf ears

the dissonance of us

Fair daughter face my fears
fair daughter hear your words
your words through my ears
my fears as I interpret you
as I suspect your intentions
your insinuations play on my strings
untuned harmonies --
the dissonance of us

without howlings

I wash my plate unstained
a fierce force of fresh water hits my face
the trickle down my leg a flashback of other times
of an outside world without howlings
of a world free of wolves

changeling

I remember you
your smell of tin
of the motherhood awaiting
I remember you
firming up
I remember you changing

Arsenic and Myrrh

I season my arsenic, let the
Nose carry the burden of
Judge, jury and executioner.

I sniff you, the whiff of rage
Turns me. Turns me. Turns
Me on and with a rising pulse
I show you…. my
Back.

I season my arsenic, without
Tears and myrrh I carry on.
Chloroform and the best of

Intents

Keeps me

Going.

of Masters and Conjurings

I feel uneasy,
Around you I no longer trust,
The last of time is
Ours, yet here I stand, naked and
Sober.

Crying the last of us,
You the wolf,
I …
We; … and moon above.

The howling, and the shivering of
Stars, I hurt without bleeding as you
Moan, as you cry, as you find the
Sought after: the will of Master

& Conjuring

I wear the face of a dead man

I wear the face of a dead man.
Between the eyes a brow, a
Frown and therein lies the crux of the
Matter, the moments spent
Searching for the truth behind
The scaffolding; the lies, the man
Scattered between the nuts and
Bolts, the fallen hero no longer
Worshipped.

I wear the face of a dead man,

Cawing.

Napalm Nausea

I hide behind my veil of
Insanity, watching you
Embrace the cold. The
Lonely path sought, a
Flower crushed by soles
Uncovered and flagons
Littering the barren
Streets. Longing for
The other man, the warm
Embrace of a stainless steel
Cutting. You light the torch
Hovering and my napalm
Nausea finds another
Birth. Like a moth and a fire
Colliding, I rub and you
Reach your point of
Desire. Here be dragons,
Here be truths

Untold.

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