Kiss away the ache, within the confines of our homey cages we quake. Our eyes speak in volumes our hearts seek to hear. Our fingers bleed with the need to feed the animals within us. I pace in carnal hate as the beauties preen for my beast. I have shattered the mirrors that would offer me truth as I always embrace my broken mind’s lies. He is the whisperer of my soul but I cannot hear him beyond my own roar of self-serving pain. I bite the hand that reaches for me though I long to lathe it with sweet desire. When the lights go out, I cower under the weight of my own breath. I lift my head to scream for help but my demons devour my most base urges. Look for my flicker in the ether as my only escape is into your dreams.
©06/2019
Whiskey Tales and Spells 
Great post 🙂
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Thank you.
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I’ve read this several times now and get something different out of each reading. Well written, as always, and very thought provoking.
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“He is the whisperer of my soul’ ….. Absolutely perfect. Excellent pen…
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Thank you — in rereading it after your comment I realized I changed point of view somewhere in the middle to end. Oh well — I possess a flawed pen.
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I would disagree with the flawed pen…. I subscribe to the rules that their are no rules when it comes to words. That’s why I hate Haikus…
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I like rules that challenge me. Or rules that I can challenge. The rebel in me loves pushing boundaries – but I try not to offend others with my grammatical offenses.
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You have more grace than me…. and that’s a good thing.
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Laughs. Since I have very little grace, you must not possess any. And that is okay, too.
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