.it was just a name after all.

To be obsessed with someone who is negligent at best … is that search for satisfying the insatiable the reason for this place? Is it why I always remain? A revenant with such violent demands and capabilities my body could never sustain? Which of us is truly the psychotic spirit obsessed?

Psychic or physical – I impose impacts paranormal. Let me in. Picking your single voice from this hiss white noise, fading in and then back out in clarity; you singing with that soft drawl; your songs of loneliness. Is it just bait laid to entrap? Do you dwell in life so deeply longing that I’m on your breath? Move in with me to this space of emptiness that I possess, that is what my heart pumps cold and damp, parched and longing, starved and demanding I’ll thump your walls and taste your hungers. Surrender, but retain your strength, yield to pleasures the human only drips in ink; their fantasies and yearnings the horror I compose with.

spiral of the shell
lying split upon the sands
hollowed home emptied


you drift into me, taking as much as I will show; you’d sink your teeth in me I know, my deceptions equal yours beneath our flow

There are others here within me; you know that history, you’ve watched this from outside these walls. Your desires and your needs we can embrace, licking and thriving on those who surround your still unfolding life. Take those still quiet moments, as few as we know they are, and run your long lovely fingers through us, breathless we await your calls.

.ἀγωνίζομαι.

in contention
a battle raged
over her heart

in contraction
while she relaxed
he and i fought

and in the Unterwelt subatomic
they entwined
spun in that place
without time
smashed
captured single slice
in cloud

It was just a name after all; just a name when at the age of eight I reread Stoker’s words. Just a name that clawed its way in, just a name when I took my sister to the on-base theater and left after the show was over with lightness in me turned to dark. It was just a name, that I only learned was hers later after I’d already lost my night stained heart. A name, like so many that I adore; four simple characters that still rip and tear.

I could have stayed longer, I might have slept beside as sister to her; but that my hunger would not allow. In flight, sustaining my presence upon her anger and her own dismay, weeping my sooty tears as she threw acid upon my own name, I knew I might have remained. An unwanted but accepted presence, a vapor, a wraith, a fogged reminder, I might have kept presence. I could have haunted in her sallow painted dungeon. It was an act of vanity, all of my prides crushed and smudged, that cast me villainous on winter streets in that city I’d taken as my own, where my feet were still present, to hear snows squeal compressed.

Rushing the border, almost anonymous but still visible, stunned and numbed by cold and her arrogance, I had already begun to disappear. No parting kiss or lips upon her neck, no wave of hand, merely a touch. I’d fallen before stumbling and had been thence seized, examined, searched, stripped before strangers, the hot burn of the bright room in which I’d been bent. That was the point lovely breathing blinking readers that I became her ghost. It was only a name, now branded upon my breast.

no alarm set
mark the calendar careful
matrix of black Xs
days march away
four more
til 365
it snowed in Bucharest

*touches my shoulder and neck where my ignored swarm reach apex*

Image: "The Smoke Of Her Burning" by © 2014