'Morphine.'

Down the dark dire road

mechanical, morose

the exit

the only end

intricate droplets

throbbed slow

delirium

as happiness hung.

My ivory tower

withered

manhood stripped

sober sensuality

septic

the only tear

one final fear perpetual.

Languished

on the merry-go-round,

high

life surreal.

I laid with the surge

laughed with the past

wired my wretched wonderland

three days

four nights

refused the restless

reality,
the internal inferno

swallowed

my infinite being

pounded my paternal pride

drew me to the abyss

as I peered

over the periphery.

Michaela James.

Pillow Talk.

I was the blood that bred ill
the treasure of moments
taken
without due care,
eloquent
the whisper of death

I ghosted into your dreams
watched you undress,
penetrated your innocence,
lust dispossessed.

You took me with the smile
cruised my affection,
danced
with drunken allure
upon my fertile ground

hooked on the ether of desire
you completed me,
evolved, perspired
never defeated me,
needed the need.

I was the flame of devastation
the tragedy of your mothers nightmare
bored into your flesh,
I trashed your love and
dissolved the skin.

Immersed my poison into your womb,
caught the demon of every fable
entwined your longing,
twisted it
turned the tricks

white lies

ripped
your husband

from within your mind

tossed him aside.

© 2007 Michaela James.