love

A topnotch WordPress.com site

Month: July, 2016

Naked fury. 

The impulsive abandoned 

rush of excitement as anger 

roars through the skies around, 

as nature crashes, 

and our bodies entwine in naked fury.

Wave upon wave of pleasure

releasing from the core of my

being, need spilling into

my fingers, stroking, feeling. 

Thirst building from within

as fingers explore my inner

pleasure. 

In your eyes I see flames 

of passion roaring to the

surface, yours, mine, ours. 

Soaring heat burning in the essence

as it slips between my lips,

as I peak, convulsing, releasing,

as you hit the back of my throat,

as it creeps through my soul,

as I swallow it down,

as I spill across your fingers. 

The essence of our souls 

dancing in blind fury 

among the crashing waves of natures force.
Karen Hayward ©2016
 

Advertisements

Curiosity wants to murder my soul. 

Curiosity wants to murder my soul, in the dark corners of my mind she rampantly plans my torture. Happy endings have no existence in reality, tear open the heart watch as testosterone drives the kinetic force, the swinging pendulum. Repeating history, repeating history, repeating history.  Reach for it, curiosity whispers, rip it from the tentacles of history. The fatality of vulnerability will leave you torn open as vultures devour your innards. Tear open the soul of your destroyer, drain their dripping blood, satisfy your thirst for pain, curiosity a constant whisper. Words jotted upon the page, ink smeared, Sahara tears I see what curiosity kills in a heartbeat. Like an addict I claw at my skin, holding back, wasting in the shadows my voice a dying echo. Taste it, she says, the crimson blood, devour it, she demands, let it flood. React with the splendour of the scorpions sting, fuel the fires let them burn at the heart of your destruction. Feel that power in your veins, destroy the light, leave it shattered upon the floor and walk with me again into the darkness, curiosity caresses the contours of my mind, working the shadows you do not see. Do it. Let destruction become you, rip souls from torsos, lick their dripping blood, taste their pain and leave the carcass discarded for wolves to tear apart. Feel it bubbling beneath the surface, let the halo fall, let the fires burn. Inner destruction no pain is too great for a broken soul as life seeps from the cracks and a black mist rolls in. Curiosity wants to murder my soul.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Shattered porcelain pieces.

Shattered porcelain 

entwined through 

plastic beakers. 

Atoms split through 

with the lacerated 

edge of your blade, 

the air cackles with 

your hate. It’s only 

when I rise that you 

see me, I’ll close the 

iron cage myself your 

indignation can be the 

key. Shattered porcelain 

pieces as profanities 

suck life from the lifeless. 

Stepping stones to the 

eternity of the dammed. 

I’m tired, 

shattered 

porcelain 

pieces.
Karen Hayward ©2016

And I am drowning.

It is believed that you must hit the sharp edges of the rocks, first. That you must endure darkness and let it seep into your soul before you can rise. It is believed that this fuel of empty loneliness will one day be the stepping stones toward the stars. But I cannot feel the light of the dying orbs that scatter throughout my skies.I bleed profusely as I fall and fall again. And I cannot reach the top. I am drowning and no one hears my voice as water fills my lungs. And I am drowning in the despair of poisoned air that I breath in silently as I pick my shadow up from the floor and sew her to my toes for if I have my shadow then I am never truly alone. It is believed that our internal light burns like a beacon calling into the twilight hours, mine despairingly wanders through the darkness, tear stained cheeks, there is no glue that can fix what is broken, splintered particles littered through the time of existence. And I am drowning and shadow is a miss. And I am drowning, putrid water filling my lungs holding me down. And I am drowning.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Purpose without time.

And the clocks stopped turning.

And the minutes refused to move

and the seconds spontaneously combusted.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Rant.

You gonna be anti social again then yeah….

A lion roars from deep inside of me and I hold back from tearing open your throat and watching as your tainted blood spills across the concrete.  

No, I don’t plan to be anti social. I never plan to be anti social, sitting in front of the TV watching my spirit drain from my soul as we sit in communicative silenece is my idea of paradise. Please give me fucking paradise. Let’s stop the world so I can  join yours. Who needs clean dishes or clothes or fucking floors.  I’ll just give those little brownies a ring and tell them to get their arses in gear because clearly they are ducking out of their duties. 
I wonder why my words fall on deaf ears but now I see. I am merely a whispered shadow transparent to your eyes. My being has no purpose to you. 

For days my muscles have screamed from the abyss for me to rest, you know this, I tell you, you see it, my pain settles in a glint in my eyes, a watered reflection of angel wings. So you watch as I carry on, stop, you say, watch telly with me, sit still, perfectly still, I will not pause it because you need to move, stop talking, stop fidgiting…..silence. Silence your mind and body. All the housework will still be waiting for you after.

Day one of seven, please send coffee, valium, more codiene, raw sugar and a tongue guard!!!

KH©2016.