Not The Rockefellers

Image: ( via Magpie Tales ) TheFoxandRaven     what i made of her: a pouty lipped wringing wet pre-coital national velvet era box top version of liz taylor i left behind in the attic with her narcoleptic libido and her a&p bags  full of half finished coming of age dime store beach trash she a dark secret, a red sash heart murmur, a wicked invention of an adolescent  ouija board imagination she now screams blue,  dripping wet and seething  down my dream halls how DARE I leave! how FUCKED UP to remember! pillow flipping off her midnight power surge i drown her out  in buckets of tidal sweat good lord, girlie go the hell to sleep go to hell to sleep Rene ~ 2013

Image ( via Magpie Tales) Google Images blood stains freckle snow-white linen like rusted lace cover me with wild adrenaline sloppy,  split lip  apologetic kisses i hide my face yet  still i hear sharp-edged  marbles  in your mouth tumbling over scotch rocks and little red last straws nobody knows this more that doesn't  meet  their eye no news  is good weather no bruise dear it'll get better we soothe ourselves with lullabies and true lies just rest now, dear leave hold  of your world pull up a chair let go of my hair the taste of bile  once on your lips, how quick the monster slips  i wait i pray you drift soon, soundly sweetly a little boy on soiled sheets a broken spirit spinning webs i lick my wounds under cover my jaw locked my mind loaded Rene ~ January 10, 2013 d'Verse Poets, Meeting The Bar-The Medium Is The Message For 100 Word Song This weeks song: "Debonair by T...