She holds down and doesn’t seem to be able to catch a breath. She looks down and doesn’t seem to see the breasts. Smoking helps her breath. She feels as though she is killing. Slowly it doesn’t begin to feel the same. Slowly it doesn’t begin to look and feel shame. Touching her doesn’t make […]Read More Forever Sleep Far too Deep.
Does she hold on to your torso around and around again? Do you look into her? She is simply dripping. Do you mind if the light comes in? Move again and again around like you did? She doesn’t hold on like you once did. Would have. Would you have? Breath down her back. She is […]Read More Dripping to the Moon
Lights holding on to every drop. Why do you seem so far? I want you to hold more. Closer. Don’t close your eyes to the wet sheet. Breathe. Will you ever come closer? Are you too far gone to look past the dread in my breath. I’m treading closer to the movement of your seeing, […]Read More Night Lights Closer to Midnight
I wasn’t always so tangled. I was once calm and always there. I seemed to be there. I was younger then. I am older. Not quite the age where lines connect your features together to make them one, But the age where being so tangled lies no comfort. By my age others seem to breath […]Read More She Is Telling
It is resting in the chest, holding still below the breasts. Touch her lightly to drown it out. Breathing isn’t seeing, hold her down. Look closely to her sleeping, deeply dreaming. About the resting, the resting in her chest. Go down, downtown. Dark out, stars dripping in the light of the room. The moon, deep […]Read More Touch What Rests in Her Chest
Learning the ever parting distance. Breathing in the seething rain. Blue looks down upon you. Reaching for the resistance. She goes down upon you. Looking for the reasons for dread. It doesn’t seem to matter that they are dead. Free of the persistence. Keep moving towards the insistence. Love, LilvxdRead More Currently Breathing the Following
Breathe. Breathing. Does it help to breathe in. Cigarettes help her breathe. She looks down at her feet, she can’t seem to understand the feeling. Darling, the midnight becomes you, so there is no need for sleeping. There seems to be something out there to dread. She doesn’t seem to be able to dream yet. […]Read More When Midnight is Becoming of You
Story 1 Che gelida manina from La Bohème blared out of the little record players speakers, filling my little apartment as I sat there regarding the weather, cold and rainy, the fog heaver than it had been in a while. The street outside my widow was empty of people, but the taxis and cars were […]Read More Short Story-Cigarettes in Coppelia