Song Sketch: (song in the works)

Your flesh: the graveyard of desire
I buried inside your mouth
a pearl from the sweat
I caught from down your neck

Weren't we satisfied
Weren't we alive

Underneath the shirts I stole:
the closest to your core
Shadows playing on skin:
the closest to a touch
A fleeting glance: a fading epitaph
Your flesh: the graveyard of desire

Weren't we satisfied
Weren't we alive

I can only play it in my head

Song Sketch: a capella (late posting)

Dazzle me dizzy in a cloud of golden dust
Even left overs of you are amazing.
Zip through the city looking for what
After all these years, I barely know
After all these years, I barely know

Dazzle me dizzy in a cloud of golden dust
A bursting of fireflies in the air that you touch
Zip through the city looking for what
After all these years, I still don't know
After all these years, I still don't know

And as you shoot up in the sky:
A fireworks display.
And shards of you come raining down:
A bloody snowfall on my hands.

I will watch you supernova today.


(For my Cheshire Cats)

Little Ms. Santa

What once
held your clothes
and my pieces
of meaningful junk
now harbors
purchases
of fancy lotions
and trinkets
neatly wrapped
by the lady
at the giftwrapping counter
for me to open
as presents
come December.