Anne Arkee: My Body Is Alarm

His touch is my only release; he is gasoline and my body is a fire alarm  I should heed the warning my head is screaming  Yet, I succumb to his kiss, his eyes, his body again. 

Deanna Raymond: My Body Is A Fire Alarm

My lips, my darkness Are suddenly alight Under the onslaught  Of your hungry mouth

Susan M. Conway: The Way That Some Memories Still Haunt You.

Perhaps, I will never fully be returned all my limbs; but I am still fighting. And, I know that's worth something.

Susan M. Conway: My memory is in love with you.

You still walk this earth, and I still bleed for you, mourn and wail for you, seeking you in every lover I have taken since.

The Truth Is

The truth is, I crave the silence your violence brings.

Sacrilege

I want to commit sacrilege with you, the likes of which light's reach has yet to caress.

Vices

And, I'll never understand why I let you.

Grave Robbers and the Women who Fuck/Love Them

**This piece was written years ago** There was a radio piece done by Howard Stern in 2004 that I heard about a while back; Donald Trump was his Guest. On this particular show Howard and Donald agreed-hands down that deeply troubled women made the best lovers. They discussed how they came to this conclusion. Here…

Aurelia Sol Returns

When I became less you, I became less myself. I am learning how to uncurl from the fetal position so that I might crawl again. I wanted to crawl to you for the for seeable future lover- Lover... Lover... Saying goodbye to you knowing that you still walk this Earth, I might as well be standing at your grave. The most torturous of all, but if we must feed our hearts lies to be full, then let us feast.