A neat feat of customer service

Intimidated
He slingshots the killing rock
Misses his target

Reinventing art
Material recycled
Through plagiarism

Pull the curtains
They might see
I want her
To watch me

Full-fat cream, my thighs
His tongue, a red hibiscus
Trickling nectar

Unrepentant
He’s singing
About the shortcuts
To my veins

I won’t miss you when you’re dead.

We are equally wrecked, and I do not need a drop of drink to loosen my tongue and un-prise my grasp and concede my bestial organ to your demand.

I dare any
Of the commonly-afflicted to defy
The scour of unseldom piercing sting–
Ever sweeter than it seems.

Resentful capriciousness
Nearly rests
As martyred saints
Self-compress
Into statuesque
Brick-and-mortared
Monuments

I held you too tight
Too long
Dreaming of you
I lost myself

Whimsy merges with melancholy to evoke the spectrum of conflicting emotions, as explored through Bee Queen’s artworks: dark-themed tableaux reflecting glimmers of love-light through a painted lens of hope.

Mellorine pastures
Snowmaking to pacify
Observer’s sweet tooth

Natural instinct
Witness the small miracle
Nurturing her young

Artist Gianluca Pisano is the Edge of Humanity Magazine contributor of these images. From his series ’Bodies’. To see Gianluca’s body of work click on any photograph. See also: Still Life By Gianluca Pisano via The Human Figure | DARK — Edge of Humanity Magazine

Ripening belly
Fertile goddess undulates
Body grazes soul

Raise basket lid
Charm twitching snake

Auditory gasp
As our lips meet
For the last time

Memories sweeten
Invigoration of loss
Don’t take me with you

He swears he loves me. I have an easy time believing him, because he keeps repeating it.

I have become a victim of my ingrained insecurities.

He surprises me with a midday quickie.

Quiescent wildwood
Fastened to earth by forces
Ambulatory

They make it their job
Spiteful nose-less hypocrites
Snorting up a fuss

You pass me a note folded into a cat’s cradle and stroke my chipped Milky Way nail polish as I accept it.

Pretty much the best short story I’ve read on WordPress. They call me the Woodwose. But they know that I am the forest; I am the canopies and the wind and the soil underneath. I have been, ever since I inhabited its heart long ago, and settled again in another still, in the heart of […]

Chronic crapehanger
Cathected with depression
Counteract with love