Freedom of Choice

In the depths of her sorrow
She paid for tomorrow
In rivers of crimson
On white.

How the tiles once sparkled
Now sticky and darkled
Screamed her choice to the moon
That night.

As her eyelids grew heavy
Flesh rent like a levee
By emotional storms

Her wounded spirit now free
Peace she sought to now be
No more secrets from which
To hide.

The Act of Giving In and Other Painful Games

I’m restless tonight and I’m not sure why.

My skin practically crawls with it and still I lay here.

My mind won’t shut down as it makes images form shadows

All the while playing scene after scene of banal circumstance

Enough to make me want to scream or cry

And still I lay here.

Would it make more sense were I to be frozen by fear,

jumping at every sound,

cowering beneath my covers as I awaited my fate?

At least then I might have reason instead of the antipathy that plagues me,

that fills me with disgust for myself.

Yet still I am restless

at least beneath my skin

where throngs of spiders converge in a mad dance to drive me over the edge.

And still I lay here

Awaiting his approach

Knowing that he will visit,

yet again.

My body his playground,

my soul his toy,

my strength lost and useless.

And still I lay here.

A metallic chain with an explosed link.


I feel you in the quiet places of my soul;
Slipping around the edges and hiding in the dark corners of my mind.
If I close my eyes and breathe
concentrating on the rise and fall of my chest
I can almost feel your fleeting touch move my hair
or slide down my cheek.
Is there still love there?
Do you long to caress me as you once did?
Or, instead, are you drawing energy in tiny sips
until the day you can finish
what you started before

Even now I wonder if I would resist.

There were good times, at least I think there were.
I don’t know if memory serves me true or only
some sad, romantic version
I longed for like
the oxygen your hands refused me.
There you go again,
brushing past my hair,
igniting a flame in my belly that I have yet

Perhaps tonight you will come to me in my dreams.
In the darkness you will hold me,
loving me in ways you found too difficult in life.
I think I will let you.
If you embrace my heart,
I will follow you into the dark
and we can be together
as we always


The Spider and The Fly

With silken words he wooed her
Wrapping her within his gossamer strands of compliments
Teasing her with promises of a golden future
His breath warm and tantalizing against her ear.
Her ruby lips curved in a shy yet seductive arc
Her body turned and tilted toward him
Glimpses of fleshly assurances teased at with thin lace wrappings
Her tentative touch a silent welcome

A dark and intimate hallway secure from prying eyes
Urgency presiding over time, filled with wanton need
A grasp, a sigh, a lick, a touch
Bodies pressed and writhing, moving, melding
He thinks only of his conquest
She thinks only of her craving
His penultimate moment a hollow crescendo as she reaches her own
Absorbing his flesh with hers, consuming the tissues and bones

A sigh of complete fulfillment and mild overindulgence
An adjustment of limbs and lace
Disposing of what was his but is no more
Slipping away without a second glance
Unnoticed by throngs of hungry eyes engaged in rituals of their own
A shy and tentative smile crosses the façade of a human guise
Long languid strides convey her down a boulevard filled with endless possibilities
Hunger abated . . . for now

Spider Web