i heart tom waits

green rhymes & hazy sundances, playing with fire it's only the slow kids who're gunna get damaged. traffic jammed & there could be worse outcomes thanks to tom waits & his alligator voice. i may be slow moving but at least i have him to show me, take me places, drive me to nebraska or wisconsin or palookaville. you know he's one of those people i would follow to the ends of the earth, someone who nourishes me with his tone, nurtures me with  his sad, sad soul. but you get the feeling tom can take it.

things happen in my head when tom's around. fireworks & wet blankets, hallelujah choruses & blistering sunburn. i want to run through countries to be with him - but i cant because he has turned me into a paraplegic for his love. things happen all over my body when tom's around. nipples prickle, muscles melt, beats quicken & skip. synapses snap. things move in strange directions, tangents down dark alleys following a hooker to her next hook up with the hangman. i follow tom willingly because he has diamonds in his mind. 

my fingers stray downwards when that bad cat's in town.

sirens & virtue & letting myself go are all part & parcel to tom being around.

i heart tom waits.

easy prey

it doesn't take much

a touch, a tender breath

for the completely inappropriate

not to matter, and for love,

or something like it

to sit on the worn out sofa,

stroke my hair and tell me

that the underside to everything

is easy prey, so we must press

our bellies together,

show our shells to the world

and edgewise find tomorrow.

but this is no ordinary rapture.

meaning spans mystery but

not far enough,

so we are always left

wondering where truth sits,

and where we do.

meanwhile it doesn't go

unnoticed by either of us

that by living the nomadic

lifestyle you never bore

anybody, but then again

where does it end?

layers cannot cover

what is really needed

which is an unfolding,

an opening to the moment.

we try to patch

our ragged bones,

dem jangling bones

and agree

that the minotaurs will

always be hiding,

but as a fear

and not a threat.

when i am with you

we are plunging the divine,

emersing ourselves in

the sheer white light

of our connection.

then when the rapture comes

and it will come

we will drink with

long and gorgeous thirsts,

throw off our burdens

and dance.
.

holding on

i taste you
the next day
in my mouth,
feel you on my face
memory scratched
skin to skin,
connections formed
in the heat where
science and chemistry
assist in our passion.

again

my ovaries call
helping me find
the letting go,
the giving in.
i tell you it's the journey
so you show me
that you can hold on,
and you hold onto me.

fever

there is something hypnotic in having
a fever, and romantic,
where you want to play with pain thresholds
and already pressed buttons,
want to be bold, hold your body
at its word because in reality
you are not really there
to hear it.

you get taken away
in the heat of the moment that radiates
from your pores, and
which he takes to
make a fire storm of your
every nerve ending.
you clutch him
as if he were the edge
of a sheer clifftop,
with you
the only pirate in sight.

its in the edges

of these things where you are
brave enough to ask for a favour
or a fantasy
to be fulfilled,
to give this pain a meaning
and a memory, melt delusion
into truth to fall for
the sheer pleasure
of it all.