Thursday, April 21, 2016

WORDS WILL WAKE YOU

Pope is dope.
Chakra con.
May tricks.
Public anemone No. 1

would that a climax last forever in your fertile fields (and folds); silent seed to splatter and splash; cum what may; in tiny euphoric
offsprings. 

in a tiny box
you and i do dwell; 
doing well
to remember 
the limits 
of our time & space.

over the fire love warms our hands/cauterizing deep wounds

Mardi Gras: revel, then retreat to repent

i should've been your saviour in the afterlife.

i've buried the parts i kept from you. now that time and distance have conspired to keep us apart, I rest, assured to know deep secrets are secure.

She is her own creator; the altar a place for adornment and self-adoration.

playing a bit
of dress-up
today, hoping
you don't mind
my endless 
charade -
it's how I
try
and try it on
for sighs.

the ties that bind
are chains in time.
calling us to collide
In our last 
head-on to freedom.

-jim hill (4-3-2016)

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