" different from the first one. "


her fingers are glossy.

glossssssseeee

glossing. n

classy. i stand gazing.

like uh, a primitive, eye

she tells me their sensitive

and i believe her. because I

am quite the gullible guy

for sweet.. pretty..

cute.

.innocent. looking

things

ZAM.

she magnetically slapssss

and caresses the back of my dome.

tap tap... tap

' hmm a heavy stone, '

tap tap... tap

'it has a lot of content'... tap

tap tap .'oh'. tap tap tap

.

.

...

She begins her

journey

from the top of my head

slowly…

            tippy toeing        

                            down….

   My

            body

moving

         her  fragile nails

Like a

rehearsed fantasy..

she's been wanting

                                 to do.

she closes in

and rests her

index finger

across my neck like a

scythe shape sun....

she approaches  breathes.

in...and... whispers..

..

  “What are you thinking?”



And within that.

          my eyes smile.



[i don’t really know,  some sort of brain activity..... ]



                  “I think”



[your pretty, inside, outside,worldwide, ]



        [and ]



“I think”



[_<(^.^)> <(^.^<) (>^.^<) (>^.^)>]





             “nothing”



She still keeps going                                    [ it’s a long walk…………]

down,

slowly

maneuvering

in

elegant

moves.

before

closing in

....again.

this time in a more arrowed position across the more pronominal areas.



‘Why are you hesitant ?'

on being religiously

silly ?."



"Like if



    you dislike

                  

              the idea of



                         being  bright?’



[because

people are .........   ]





“Wait What???"





That’s not true.



only sometimes...



lol!@#!$!.

but still

“that's  so wrong



And misleading. "





















but please go on”.

the witch
by michael r. burch

her fingers draw into claws
she cackles through rotting teeth ...
u ask “are there witches?”
                                              pshaw!
(yet she has my belief)

Keywords/Tags: witch, witches, Halloween, fingers, nails, claws, talons, cackle, cackles, teeth, rotting, rotten, broom, broomstick, cat

Polish
by Michael R. Burch

Your fingers end in talons—
the ones you trim to hide
the predator inside.

Ten thousand creatures sacrificed;
but really, what’s the loss?
Apply a splash of gloss.

You picked the perfect color
to mirror nature’s law:
red, like tooth and claw.

I thought about titling or subtitling this one “A mini-ode to manicure” but thought better of it. Please note that this poem is not about female predators but the way the human race “glosses over” its predatory nature. We may appear to be “civilized” but what are we doing to the planet and its other inhabitants? Keywords/Tags: polish, nails, talons, claws, predator, gloss, loss, red, tooth, claw, pollution, climate change, global warming, mass extinction, genocide

Your insecurities
will rot you inside out.
And when your corpse
comes begging for forgiveness,
I shall be nailing
the last nail to the coffin.

In my fantasies,
The dark and deep,
Where fog pools at our feet,
And the cries echo in the distance,
And sigh in defeat.

You wait for me,
Standing in all your glory,
Laying out in all your pride,
You stare me down,
Hot and heavy,
With lust burning in your eyes.

You reach for me,
Fingers stretch,
You groan for me,
With slight hums under your breath.

Your skin meets mine,
The sparks erupt,
It's perfect,
Heavenly even.

You're my muse,
My inspiration,
My reason is you.

You hold my waist,
Nails digging in,
You lean,
Lips pursed,
We kiss,
Gently.

You press,
Harder, harder,
I bite your lip,
Breaking skin,
Breaking everything,
We sin.

When specks of ash float on the breath of the last great tree,
When the heat Scorches the final blade of grass to dust,
When the sun dares to rise again,
We will prevail.

When the ocean’s great white waves blow back black,
When the last leaf sways down to its final resting place,
When the clouds seem to always cry,
We will rise.

When the breeze whispers it's melodious secrets,
When the earth stops beating the drum of its heart,
When the water’s legato rhythm becomes jagged,
When the fire eats up everything that is left,
We will feast.

We will devour the last of mankind.
We will peel skin,
We will pick nails,
We will lick the very fingers that once fed us.

Unforgiving,
We take the young.

Heartless,
We watch them burn.

Happily,
We yearn for more.

In the end,
I rise to take my throne.
Stepping on empty skulls,
Snapping, cracking, and
Creaking to sit upon the empty wasteland of bones.

I smile,
Sitting back to admire my creation.
The birth of something new.
A perfect melody built just for you,
And this time, you better sing.