Johnsienoel's profile

Brewing steadily the journey long and charged I swilled back mellow amber crafted swigs of Shiner Bock upon your couch a stranger in your ‘No Country for Old Men’ Cormac McCarthy infused rooms For two months we tripped through the portals of seduction carefully crafted conversations that engaged us through the predawn hours never sexual but intimate as we unpacked and repacked each others emotional baggage Seeing you for the first time abandoned hope hung heavy like the wooden h...

Jaded girl Belle traces heart shapes feeling Magnolia with mute gravitation skin to skin votively treading storied names across distanced palms. Wormed wood clenches gnarled words carved swollen by a dewy whisper Boy takes Belle her ashen cinders cool disquietude. copulatory limbs entwine twisted kicks lick ardent embers Red-tails pitch and wheel above conjectured carnage Blustering Boy's hewing blows etch tree flesh anew debasement lies new wounds sap a bitter elixir masking their eviden...

I trip along the edge of insanity like a salacious woman rimming a wine glass with one wetted finger the tone and tincture varying by degrees of volume contained within this hollow vessel I wet my whistle time and again drowning in the drought of your companionship flirting with fancy I pour another glass of hope but do not swallow merely letting your essence moisten my lips Addicted to fear I bottled myself up corked and musty a prized vintage stored on the shelf of dop...

Incestuous blood, skeletoned away fifty odd years ago, coagulates through familial veins. Odd shadows shape shift across old family photos. An engendered arm, wrapped around a daughter’s shoulder, bares resemblances to darker tones in an old black and white Bred into closeted histrionics by one whom failed to save her sister from a father’s salacious touch, his lecherous blood is our own. Scapegoat I become for all aborted dreams and missteps miscarried; a mother’s salvati...

Standing on the precipice of perdition I am a prophecy self fulfilled; conjectured carnage wrought in the annals of my embattled heart litter the seat of memory and reason Waging war on my own worst nightmares I soldier up in chain mail, stare down enemies in mirrors and wield stabs at reflections in a lover’s eyes I crucify my emotional hostage in the wake of this siege, nailing the lid on romance’s coffin with postmortem regret and remorse; extraction frees but the holes rema...