Supplements

A supplementary love affair with a supplementary drug,

to take me higher than before.

The chord on life unplugged.

A supplementary dream to a supplementary life.

The dance is all an illusion.

The rhythm cuts like a knife.

A supplementary agenda to a supplementary goal.

Sashaying and twirling, embracing my feet,

barefoot across hot coals.

A supplementary friend for a supplementary need.

My legs won't allow for escape.

On my brain she needs to feed.

A supplementary pillow aids in some supplementary sleep.

The well is dry and dusty.

There's no wool left on the sheep.

Nevermore a Woman

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

These breasts, these dreams, these dainty little hands.

Their purposes are irrelevant. Absolutely useless.

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

My heart and my soul, as altruistic as they may seem,

can never supplement my ultimate desires.

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

I lie down on my side afraid to sleep,

haunted by the secrets I hide.

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

As helpless as it may appear,

it's much worse than the sins of the saints and the untruths in the allegory.

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

I can't give you what you need.

Ugly and tainted, our fate is unknown.

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

I watch in envy as they become all I ever wanted,

as as she takes all I ever needed.

I am not a woman,

although it may appear so.

I will always be a lady,

but nevermore a woman.

"Goodnight"

"National Security recommends everyone settle in low lying areas in your homes. Basements are preferable, but..." The static of the AM radio succumbed to God's fury, as well.

Locking eyes, they could see into each other's souls for the first time in years. Deep down, however, nothing was the same. What once was filled with an inexplicable desire to be one had split into two separate entities that lived in different shelters under the same roof.

A tear streamed down her emotionless face as she selfishly yearned to turn back time and undo all of her plastic spells and take back all of her empty words. He stared blankly at her feet in shame for betraying her for months of pseudo-paradise in a pseudo-candy land of hedonistic pleasure.

Perhaps their fate was mere symbolism for what already was. Regardless, they walked hand-in-hand to the front porch together to await consequence.

From afar, there it was; a surreal reality to equalize all and leave no one behind.

Embraced for one last time, the world before them turned white.

"See you soon, my love. Goodnight..."

Red Lipstick

We've got to make amends with what's good.

Comfortability must be found in what's good rather than what is familiar.

Familiarity is what killed the cat, not curiosity.

Curiosity never killed anyone but the ignorant and unaware.

Understood?

Standing in front of the mirror with nothing, not even her dignity,

all that was visible were her body's stories of everything but triumph and trophies.

The Venus's power no longer warmed her,

and no man's touch devalued her more than her own.

Death seemed too easy, yet living too complicated.

Staring back at her were her father's eyes,

only a bit lighter in shade, but darker in substance.

She'd learned to live like him, too;

spending countless nights nearly transparent in front of a crowd

feeling nothing but what the powder allowed.

The powder allowed so much.

Oh, the chemical monster's golden chariot of endless possibilities and kite rides above the clouds.

Temporary euphoria was better than none.

"I'd rather be a sinner with tall tales to tell,

than a saint with regrets of no falls being fell."

In red lipstick read the mirror.

But being a sinner with regrets was never part of the plan.