for whom the bell tolls.

"feel free to express your melancholy,
just not while i'm around.
please, just be yourself,
but only when we're alone.
do what you want,
as long as it's convenient for me.

stay behind the line lyza jane,
it's not your turn yet."



did i get it right?

in between days.

somewhere in the middle of wake and dream,
that's where you live.

somewhere between real and fantasy,
that's what you’ve become.

somewhere between living and dying,
that’s the place i dance, when you’re not around.

somewhere between the commercial and the show,
between the darkness and the light,
between shadow and substance,
between really and pretty,
day and night,
good and evil,
love and lust,
that's you...

somewhere in the middle of it all.

dead or alive

"you spin me right round, baby, right round. like a record baby, right round, round, round..."

conjecture.

reading between the lines.
i've never been
very good
at that game.
but you knew that already,
didn't you?

i've always been
a pretty
straight
up
and down
kinda girl myself.
or so
i thought,
but maybe not?
but you knew that already,
didn't you?

unfinished poem.

it’s not just
the words
that i
miss.
it’s the way you
fuck
my
mind.

it’s not just
the way
you
touch
me
that i long for.
it’s the way
you
make
me
tingle
between
my legs
leaving me
breathless
and
wanting;

it’s that
sweetness
in the air
after i cum
from
the mere
thought
of
you
touching
me,

in that way
that only
you
know how…