Toni_touch

2100

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Total poems		62
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Total poems - 7 days		0
Total poems - 30 days		0
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Under a Tree

Almighty Lips

A kiss can be just that and nothing more.
Or a kiss could mean the world.
It could say "I do" or even "goodbye".
Initiating bed sheet warfare,
a kiss can be orgasmic.
Unconditional love from mother to child,
a kiss can be comfort.
A kiss can lie better than words could ever
dare to dream.
Kiss me goodnight and I might love you in the morning.
Lips to fingertips,
index and middle stand proudly apart.
Peace out, one love, etcetera.

Trauma Patient

I'm scared my soul might be
damaged beyond repair.
I cant feel it rattling
as the one small solid lump that I'm used to.
It jingles now
like a piggy bank holding just a few pennies.
Maybe some tape or Elmer's glue
or possibly that paste that kids eat in kindergarten
can help aide in my efforts to piece it together.
Puzzled.
Hold it together.
Tryna hold it together long enough to
pick up the pieces and put them back in
proper working order.
Impossible.
Never having seen before my eyes
what lies behind these eyes.
A soul so intangible.
Ever changing. Amorphous.
The pain is tangible.
Prick my finger on it's pointy edges.
Left index leaking cherry confessions.
Small drops sneaking into crystal cages
holding my spare change.
The copper turns pink now.

Questions You Can't Ask Your Mother

Excuse me, could you spare a moment of your time? I have something to say.
It really wont take long it's just that,
so many dreams have died and i cant seem to find their graves.
Correct me if I'm wrong but I think they're buried in
bloody Tuesday panties stuffed in black plastic bags where parents can't see
discarded in trash cans around the corner from the home of
a girl who wanted to be a princess
until today.
Oh no! I just considered the possibility that they were never buried at all.
Maybe rotting in a 5 star maggot buffet.
Today's special : I wanna be a fireman with a side of discovering alien life forms in a light singer sauce.
What if dreams don't die at all?
Maybe they're marked return to sender and forcefully shoved back up the tips of
16 year old hoop star es following the release of that single swimmer
that doomed him to a life of diapers and dead end jobs.
C...

Another Kind Of Hero

Tight-rope walking on my fingertips
fearful of falling into the gorge,
nails drip read tears full of strength.
I feel the power coursing,
pulsing,
through my veins.
I'm a super-human.
A superhero.
Rescuing my dreams
from the spirit terrorists.
They bombed my bedtime Bhagdad.
The place where sleep visions consist
only of happy things like
sex and candy.
It now lays in smoldering ruins.
But alas,
this tight-rope leads to my temple
of hidden wonders.
Just a few more feet left,
must hurry,
because the twines are beginning to unravel.

Under a Tree

Under a Tree

Almighty Lips

Trauma Patient

Questions You Can't Ask Your Mother

Another Kind Of Hero

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