i constantly feel the need
to express to you
my inner unreasoned
masturbatory stream of consciousness.
and i want you to know
i consider it an immense luxury and privilege
for you to be so kind
dearest
as to stand
under my ghastly orchard

my darkest poems
blood letting streams
are a kind of erotic
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious
well of torments
a soup of Salmonella
the souls gut
its cauldron
yet not with out lurid enticements
and voluptuous supplicants
gorgeous
like an eight legged woman
with beautiful feet
drooling cunt lips
drunk on sacrificial rituals
of blood black tongued kisses
and hideous contorted pleasures
orgasmic

once
exquisite archetypes
gods and goddesses
are now
putrefied
cellar dwellers
moaning in nature bed crypts
of rock, stone
and engraved sigils

because honest pure desires
became fragmentary
and are now gimping amputees
by legions of primal disappointment

While faces blare in the world
like super bright LCDs
shinning paths to others
our deep self
remains patinaed in tears
a black box pox with a lock
the skeleton key lost
in arcane seas

out of utter disgust
for those dark crawlers
that live within us
revealing them selves
as anxieties, depressions
suicides
and myriad quiet despairs
we appear undaunted
to others
and they to us

humanity
muffled ticks
and splintered sticks

My poems let my demons out

yoo who its me
my name is Pinky Lee
with my hooks and cries
and dark blood skies

in the misty night
i dragged out their earthen coffins
legends of the despicable
resurrected them
fed and loved those darklings
had every conceivable union with them
their healing, my own
ive sexualized them
and found love
albeit twisted

To be adored
in a hidden embrace
i bestow upon you a poetic fantasy
while obsession takes hold

bind it not
nor let it bind you