It is always arrival at the castle after treefuls of bats echo-spell a hex trestleworked into our tundra beds. "I am nothing if not pleasing," said this coal-steeped beast, snowy neckskin slipping up my may I cut in to the frozen go-stab-yourself dance, interject the bones she poses in her hair playfully but not carefree? The shape of my bluff my shroud— gruff little eyeteeth, grieving-tough she fucks not as lasting cure nor last clear lyric, not lake metric nor lash curve. She flattens me as I hone my flattery to care not for topknots but yes for coattails and wax the past is ever slick like a series of slips unslipperied serious. Several-faced we know to wear fumbling bloodshot, otherwise known as spilling blooms a dark redemption we dye brighter our cares away she is a porno and pavements are a mess. I may be impressed with her pierced-erotics as our virgins desert, but I sleep tight—grim ride for grand times. Pale contrast safely delays cape-dipped with lip-drippier. Barely-touchables command astray a distance too in charge to interchange the sickly excited music we sip sick. She's all a bit spinning like any dulling fastness, thus our disciplined rage for boredom poured into a black broth she ladles into our nightmare mouths in the months of nightly unhousing. I wander chamber to even secreter passage and waste wine on my tongue my bliss my what long belief you have. Two tines valued at who can define sublime sucked and sucked us dry is so desire. Three bites become you breaking away to stay the feeder I like her fading wrinkles and lack of bareness best but the rest is sexy, and makes a kind of recognition to me. Why can't she be from the sea? Craving is merely fire over water, or mind sweating over time, time which diced me a gamble double-crossed by a defender for live-forever. How to want to die when Satisfy says otherwise? Supposing the lonely last-supper together in her ice-jungle, it would be okay to meet briefly love brimming over the melting canopy, which is only a frosted lawn, and we are shrunk together we have drunk too much unto needing machines to bleed life spent with fencemates. We think speaking, our guilt exotic as first clockwork wakes vanes into vines I vale as the lost game-piece. Please de-bone me. Less solid I could devour her awaiting feastial sacrifice. She'S turning me around She SliverS into my Shimmering bedclotheS She breakS my Silver watch StopS my pretenSe of time She circleS inSide teacheS me to drive my miStreSS She miS-StreSSed She StreSSed my trying to fight Such delight in the way She biteS with her entire mouth the Scavenger of our union iS a temptreSS She wantS without Searching my more labyrinthine blood is and is not bond—I beg you—bail me out into what you spy I spy—in slowhand—speech I wish to send you before I know if I like it, but I wish too much. Too many I's lead to suicide, some study said—I say she likes without loving, which is pleasure, and all this written on her pleases and deepens a wound we've groomed to channel her cry me a groove from departure point to pressure part—I plea to see—after she left for the first few days we were babble and then the babble began to (de)mean us, asking what every wannabe wonders: what does it feel like when people fall asleep to your face?
Ashley VanDoorn Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2022, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|