You didn’t see the blemishes, You didn’t feel the bumps
The bristles, the lumps
You skim your tongue over me
As if I were made of milk
Lapping at silk
All the parts I hated
Berated over the years
Are smoothing me over
Like a brand new shape
A perfect sculpture
And I’m beginning to think
I’m not all that bad
I’m beginning to think..
You scrambled my legs
Macerated my brains
I’m all sorts of jam but no preserve.
You liquefy the bones of me
Turn my organs to pulp.
I can’t speak. I gulp.
With just a lick and a nibble
All I can do is dribble.
I’ve turned into quite the fool
Standing in a pool of drool.
I’m chronically in love with you.
” Every step you take, every move you make..”
Oh wait it’s all been done before?
Well this love hasn’t.
My love for you is a thumbprint.
My love for you is like the word that rhymes with orange.
No no not that it doesn’t exist!
It’s sporange ( look it up- I did)
My love for you is like sniffing glue ( I imagine)
It’s hit me in the face like that game. You know … Pie face.
Full throttle to the gob. Exciting. Funny. Runny.
I love you till the cows come home and get milked. Over and over.
I will love you after I sag and before I rot
I will love you in the next world and all the worlds after.
It’s all been done before?
Yep. again and again and again.
Forever. Foralways. For me.
I will forgive you…
When you’re dead
When the worms have consumed your smug smile
When you can no longer haunt me, taunt me.
The living make better ghosts you see
Their pulsing hearts, their burning desire
Add to fuel to my fire.
‘Let it go.. let it go’ ?
Forgiveness will heal you?
Bah. Nah. NO!
I thrive on this anger
I combust with that flame.
Forgiveness is for the corpses
Forgiveness is for the lame.
Cinderella said she lost her shoe by ‘accident’
But she was no fool
She knew the prince adored her.
She had felt his arousal against her leg.
Snow white flirted with all the huntsmen
It got her stepmother’s back up
When she shagged them in the stables.
Hansel and Gretel were too close for comfort
Their parents didn’t know what to do.
They sent them to the old lady in the woods
Hoping for a cure.
But their lust for one another was unquenchable.
They killed her for trying to tear them apart.
Read between the lines.
The world is full of tall tales
And we lap them up like children.
J’accuse le muse
He rendered me fool
Let me draw his skeleton
But wouldn’t sit still for fleshy parts.
All I could see were lines of beauty
Unparalleled , swooping strokes
Unrivaled light and shade.
Made for me.
Or so I thought.
J’accuse le muse
Mais J’accuse moi
For what good are muses
If they draw you in…stead?
What is Art if not from the heart?
What’s the point ?
If the thought has not traveled through
Soaking up all the dirt and mirth
Then don’t let it out.
Let it simmer until it shimmers.
Don’t be afraid to show that idea in all its ugly glory
Only after seepage should it see page.
Let it age well like a fine wine.
Give it time my friends.
Give it time.