Pulse Asphyxia.

Light closes around the soft cupid's bow,
above deep, shy lips and a kissing pulse
courses through the neck,
stroking strapped thighs and pallid breasts.

I stand in the fabric
cage
I long to break lace bonds and
scroll my rapid scrawl across paper skin;
to stitch over fabric bodies and
run my race to the beat of another pulse.


Constricts of polyester grin at you in
the dark of the night.
I turn, and adorn my tiny pulse with silk and lace:
I turn, and place it with you.
From hanging heights I weaken and
fall to you.

Yours.

Your weary waves ebb at my thighs and hips,
The muscles therein grow taut and scream unheard
A pale panic absorbs me and I pray
to be devoured whole and
loved.
I wait for you and I to become
We
Yet the loveless tide still erodes.
I feel a painless tear at the seam.

I try to tread the tame waters
with ferocity, virility.
And for the first time
Eyes meet.
Muscles freeze,
And I allow my last saviour bubble to escape.
I shut my eyes.


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Venus

Silk And Straw.

17/05/11


thick, gasping haze in sweltered box,

faces peer from clustered ships,

my legs clasp and skin tight, cheeks pinch,

and there; your face, framed with shock of soot,

creeping contours cruise the deck,

i plead with pupils, begging your palms,

to jump the ship, to burst the gates,

lace reams and reams of silk and straw,

around your frame and lace you tight,

i wade through splintered waves and

wait,

and wait for your mumbling touch,

i give myself up to your words, enveloping my quivering lungs,

and then, a jolt of ease

shakes my cordial mind, sloshing my worries,

pouring my fears;

for that moment, we’re dancing on solid pools of wax,

floating on the vivacious tide,

we are microscopic, the picture of passion.

and then comes the sun.

beams tear the bonds, of silk and straw

glistening in shards, on your floor

Everyone in the world seems to want a blog. I don't know why. As someone who writes a lot in their spare time, I never 'got' Tumblr: the nerve centre in which people communicate via over-processed pictures of people they will never be, hair colours they will never have and films they will never be in. I believe in loving what you do and making it yours; so this is what I will do.

I do not know what exactly this will be, but it's mine. My days in pictures and words and all the things I love and hate. Drawings, writing and photographs.

I am an Earth Girl but I very rarely feel like one.

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Venus.

Venus The Earth Girl Goes To Paris.