Monthly Archives: April 2016














I light a candle of blue, my eyes, almost, but, I’ve

never been beautiful like Heaven..more like Hell with

a twist….

I think of you as you sleep deep, dipped in halos and

light, I, the shadow that covers you….

You smile at a thought, and my nipples harden,


I pull away, but only for a day…scared, scared

of my own sins, lewd clues, and back into a

corner, sit, legs pulled up to my chest….

Afraid to let go, flow, to bring my songs to life,

for us as one breathe as the dandelion caresses the

air, a dance of mating, bating…

Lead…me… me how to be….

Blinded, eyes turn to black silk, and i welcome

silence, the truth to unravel under your fingertips….

Make my heartbeat fast at last, as you dare push me

beyond life and death….kisses and hisses….

Fingerprints, footprints the path remembered, to find

our way back…to the other….

Trail along my body, forcing moans off my skin…

Sink and bend me to hear me scream….

Teach my flesh to depart, be who i am meant to

be…contort, abort the old, and walk-in to the


Show me how to drive you mad, rape red to drape

in ancient verses, curses…..

Mouth against my pulse, whisper spells

to tell in secret….for only you and i….

We kiss in tones to the macabre….

Teeth sink, names traced into burial grounds,

sounds chanted into circles of colors…

You spread me and learn to take all of you, sipping

fountains of silver….

In tongues we play, as I take words from your

mouth, giving birth to two souls of forever….

Time follows us as hands are intertwined side

by side….










I wonder if he would care to play the moody blues


with me…..


I slowly circle around him, not meeting his eyes, I


spy, deny….


I prowl, growl..I don’t want to feel, just need to heal,


seal the deal….taking a pill…


I don’t want to be loved tonight….I want to be ripped


apart, crawling around, finding my pieces again…made


new, HIS brew…..


Nails slice, dice, I promise NOT to be nice….


I hear him snarl, but I ignore, and pace throughout,


seeping inside his conscious, ripping out what is


mine, always MINE!


Then, I suddenly stop, in front, eyes meeting, hot on the


spot, my skin tingles….


I feel reckless, dangerous…out-of-body…..


He knows what I think, feels, wants, and he so graciously


without saying a word, casts his vision just for second


downward, giving me permission…..


My hand reaches out, grabs his hair, pulling him almost


inside me and our mouths explode…me, almost crawling


inside him, on my knees please…..


My tongue reaches out and traces his fullness, touching his




I gulp, so thirsty and wet between my thighs, no lies….


I control this night….


Teeth emerge and I bite his bottom lip, split….


He SO wants to dominate..I can feel it alive under his skin…


He never touches, brushes as I take….


Blood forms, and like a cat, lick it, let him flow into my own….


I move my body against him, walking him back, on track, and


push him on the bed….he seems to fall apart….


I smile, crawl up his body as he is ready for me to dip onto


his temple…..


My body starts weeping, falling stars, all raining just for him…


I hoover above, his dark princess and crown him….


He builds inside of me, breaking walls as I claw….riding him


naked and free to be me….


My fingers rake his chest as I tell my story, his story as we


connect the dots, all the plots….


Finally, I return to innocence, him in me, finishing


the novel we created..a story never ending….


He erupts tiny diamonds inside as I open wide, a forever


promise to honor and protect me…..


I shatter, scatter, sparking from the inside out…finally


finding peace, love and light…….




social underground

Lols, Urban Art, Clothes & Accessories


A Student Literary Journal

hands in the garden

short poems, for short attention spans.

Diary of a Psychokiller

take a trip with me to the darkside


Rippling Juices Of The Bright Eyes


Thoughts on an ever-evolving life

Darkland Poetry

Writings from Rachel Firmin


. . .can you imagine?

During the days in which I choose to conform, I do so with a specific feeling in mind that I want to achieve. A sort of climax that I aim to reach. A feeling effortlessly maintained between the ages of 6-9 and again between the ages of 13-15, when being a girl was simply one of the numerous ways of being.


Where bad things make you feel good...


Views of a Dandelion Girl

Tshombe Sekou

Poetics & Rumens

Sheila Renee Parker

Author. Paranormal. Romance. Fantasy. Follow Sheila on Twitter! @sheilarparker