there is a silken heat

that is infecting

all my unluxurious fabrics

that sway of silk I want to feel in this heat

like a breeze

a dip

my internal anger makes me want to combust

from inside out

leaving marks on the sheets

spontaneous combustion

and other paranormal

supernatural

unexplained

by those

undevoted

to notions of such crap

I want to drown out the fire

in a fit

through a puddle, midnight

while the whole street watches

so that its burns holes

into their hearts

while I seethe,

and let go of myself transfigured

the demon out

and the silken heat, the sweaty velvet, the musky damask

I just want to whisper something in your ear

that you wont hear

leave you forlorn and wondering

what I could have said,

especially judging from the way I cocked my head

these days I sit upon a cold patio

in a cold shadow

wondering where has my sun king gone

when its pluto I feel the most

I crave at least a jupiter

or a saturn with rings above his head

a golden halo

is it Jesus for whom I so desperately call

I am filled with enough sadness to fill 50 barrels of wine

all of which

I could promptly smash apart

like crystal breaking

and gashing all the liaisons of my heart

I haven't felt truthful in a while and

I sure admit I've got no alibi

but that certain songs break my back

and the pain of the bones makes me cry

my heart and soul and mind are like a desert

in which I used to want to live

till I discovered that

even in places where water doesnt exist, there are caterpillars

perhaps I am an ocean instead, a lake, or a river? I guess it could be best said that I am a brook that dries up without rain and causes flooding when its torrential.

I had the most luxurious dream last

of the most wonderful man- he enveloped me in his love and I've never felt happier than when I was looking into his blue eyes

it's so embarrassing to dream about someone you lurked on facebook- and have seen

who doesnt live in your town anymore

nor could even imagine your existence

I wonder

out loud

if its true that when you dream of someone, they dream of you too.

in that case I hope I was as delightful as he.

I have been changed by the sunshine and my nose peels like a snake- just as my blood runs cold, colder when you step in the room because I no longer feel remorse at your actions, your words, your emotions. Those tears come straight from the bottle my friend, the bottle of visine you carefully drop in whenever you want to stir up any emotion from THIS stoic here.

ALbeit, I do feel bad creating the misery you suffer through but I have made it clear, we both know our ABC's so why dont you just back away safely from the jaws of this evil snake queen?

The earth shakes below and my mind is creating enough lava to put this planet into a black hole. I am hell and heaven and you have entered purgatory- dont follow Beatrice, she leads you nowhere good dearest Virgil, for I did intend to keep you alive.

SO here I go, low beneath the water levels of my darling bathtub, surrounded by sounds that make me want to put stones in my pocket and walk into the river. Here I study and dream of everything but this, here I pause at the top of the stairs at work and daydream of everything that isn't a part of me.

thank god for dreams and words and knowing that I can summon emotion when I want to, sadly I no longer do.

Love,

your stoic evil snake queen.

ps. V, I miss you. Honestly.

dont talk to me about my vindictive nature, let's not talk about the storms I can connect with and contract, with the winds that could blow you off your feet.

you say you fear the forests and I understand your fears as much as I resent them because deep inside in the lushest green of peaks is where I feel the most connected.

we are like two very different peas, yours have been genetically modified and created on to look, but mine are alive in all senses that are five, you can taste touch smell hear and see my peas, whereas yours, well I dont know if they truly exist or not.

I make up words as I go along in order to express myself better because I have felt like I am both muted and dumb in your regard because nothing I say seems to enter any orifice of your body other than your nose where unfortunately it cannot be processed- that deviated septum has stopped the connection from nose to brain- the egyptians would find it all to be a problem. your soul could not be removed because I am convinced you lack one. I am equally convinced that I have 30, or is it 23, for each year of my life feels so different to me than the last and who's to say that I cant be a different person in the same skin every single day?