binding the white witch

      dressed in salt water
       blessed in the sacrament
                    of the white witch –

                   she pours herself into me
        he gives himself to me,

                      possessive, undulating
                  took me over, but I gave in willingly

            dark magics in my arteries
                soul in my throat
                             lust in hand

          tasting steel and heady want
            no, I cannot stop –
            no, I cannot without you,

                        bruises and hard tongues
                    grazing touch, no I’m not asking
                                      no, you’re not telling

                            choking the name that veils me
                       drowning is so delicious
                             when the ocean wants you too

                      overpowering me, desperate and needy
                             won’t admit it in the midst of things
                                         but your stutter is a beacon
                                 that I will follow

                      skirt ripped, shirt decimated
                                inhuman and impressive
                              but also incredibly provocative
                                      like drinking tequila
                                       in the middle of a thunderstorm

possess me
                                             and I will be your demon.

between two points

between two points

     is the shortest distance between us;

             troubled waters, under sturdy bridges

  you don’t know what your music 

                   sounds like to me

           thrilling ice, dark and chilled

                      pressed citrus, between steel and gaia

 I stopped dancing to listen,

          you stopped humming to whisper

                                            it was a catalyst

                                            you and this song, 

                        arctic waters, let me slip into you

                 awaken my senses again

                              bring me back to life again

the strangest plants

      the strangest plants
   do not grow just with sun and soil
                they teeter on cliffs,
             they weather storms
               they face mankind
       
           and come out a beautiful
                   as any rose bred for perfection

the sunflower and the wolf iii.

        tilted stem and greening leaves
leaning into soft furs
        dreaming komorebi things,
tail twitch, brushing the flies away
        ladybug on black snout
caressing warmth between gentle grasses
         long springs and longer autumns
waiting for the beauty that will revive
         between the pads of the wolf;
dancing dandelions, scattered wishes
         it hopes and prays
waiting for the quiet salvation
         daunting, but not alone
never alone
         though the winters are terrifying
it cannot go at it alone,
         but it’s not alone, never alone
not when the alpha stands beside it
         not when the pack is behind him
so safety looms comfortingly over it
         and it stretches towards the wolf
protected again

the sunflower and the wolf ii.

soft petals skewered
     between gentle fangs
          wintry winds a tug
   between fur and breath
             crepuscular rays over gold faces
 thriving and winding around legs
         the blooming season
       is every season,
                      and yet this one feels more
                    earth-laden
                    waters-craven.

the sunflower and the wolf i.

   paws deep in the ground
  at ease with the soil
            at one with the earth
       that finicky woman that she can be
but it does not bother the wolf
            nature is as nature does
          just like the wolf

       and when the wolf finds the sunflower
    growing atop the fields it calls home
                it does not trample it
              nor ignore it

          it exists with it.

I am with you, legend

it’s too cold to sort things out
 and I love the chill that rolls into my elbows
              but lost and found is so hard
          and I don’t want to be confused over myself anymore
     the exterior of warmth and hospitality
                creating the berlin wall over the rest of it –
       heartache in eighty ways,
           the snap of emotions turning on a dime
   “I’m with you -“, she plays over the speakers,
                   and it’s the first time I’ve felt connected
             traveling down this hellish road
          named after my feelings
                and thoughts –

   just trying to remember that legends never die
          always written down in the stars
       hand in hand with eternity;
                  always forgetting the cost –
          suffer through harm, that’s when the world
     calls out your name –
                               pull it together
                               keep it together
                               pick yourself up …

I can almost see you

I can almost see you,
      twilight-lit, framed by oaks
  tail-end of a wish your halo
             lit like a miracle,
         shining like a shield;

   I can almost see you,
hidden ripples in the ocean
          delving deep for treasure
    there is nothing surface about this –
                      toes dipped, plunged;

              I can almost see you,
       waist-deep, treading
                call of the sea,
             always the call of the mountainous sea

                                       ah, there –
                                    I can see you..

I’m on fire

the freight train in the middle of my head
         blows the whistle at your stop, every stop
                              resting witch face,
           pressed against the glass
                             waiting, waiting for what
                      I do not know.

there is a film, so gaudy and clouded,
          enough to see through the illusion
   not enough to hold it back
                           susceptible to the night,
             maybe that’s why Nyx chose me –
                    maybe that’s why I bleed –

sometimes it is like someone took a knife to the soul
             and yes, you cool my desire.
                                         contentment sways her hips between the two –
                     perhaps we are always meant to be on fire.