Flying-Fingers

I am from the North Where we have a thousand words for snow but only one for love This is a myth, of course but truth be told we do not like to waste anything, not even words in the coarse undergrowth of our landscape words mean less

I am a rubber band. You can stretch me-         For a while. I retain my shape-         At first. You keep bending me. You keep stretching me. My flexibility is damaged. My elasticity is lost. My shape is altered. Eventually- I snap.

Oh artist of skin, listen to thine muse; sing into my flesh an ink song,        in whorls of color.    kiss me with sharp piercing needles, pain like a panacea is flowing through me, as your art is born in my dermis.        oh tangled skeins of halfborn art, live out potent dreams on this, your noah's ark.

Just one more put on this earth Just one more piece of ass to parade around Nothing but a carcass with a hollow soul A piece of junk to toss out when it's all used up An unholy virgin that has sinned No hope within No one knows what it means to be the way she is One who stares at fire and gets burned with its immortal life A strange one is she who laughs with demons and plays with the devil The outer shell is their prize while she dies each time To them, she is a simple novelty to collect dust Her complex mind desires more than her twisted fate Nothing more will matter once she has the key Lock up the injustice around her whilst she dance

Just one more time I swear I'll quit Stop jonesing for a taste of bliss Stop aching for the sudden rush euphoric spreading through my blood one more hit one more toke one more bang one smoke one more shot right in the vein before I go slap insane. What the hell? Who am I kidding? I'm stone cold addicted to her sinning. Hooked forever on silken lips and the swivel in her hips stoned from the scent of her hair as my fingers linger there. I'm just a junkie for her touch high on the taste of strung out love.

3/29/08 Saying Goodbye to Farewells The early morning was crisp and solemn. Sun beams trickled through the wind blown, naked trees. White snow fell lightly on the steaming train. "I will not say goodbye, I refuse," she said through bitter tears. "I will not beg you to stay, it's not my way." He searched for the right words to ease her anguish. How could he explain this course and divorce their bond so clean? Her breaths were short and fast as he embraced her tightly. She did not resist, but held on as though she would fall from great heights. The train billowed its last whistle and the steam spiraled into the white sky. "Remember me

One or two, old and new. These socks don't have any clue. They keep me warm day and night, and hang to dry in morning light. Wind and rain come out and play. Dear old socks got swept away. It was my washer; drank them down. Those are my socks, I pout and frown. Sailing high on wind and wing, [un]lucky socks, my words will spring to the clouds, here I howl: Missing socks, come home right now! But my socks, they don't listen. Wet and cold with rain-drops glisten. From the sky to the gutter, coloured wool falls with a flutter. Blown away in a rushing wave, my poor lost socks none will save. Now to find a new cozy pair, please don't flee; I'v

It can cure an internal bleed, It can put your soul at ease. It will show you to me, It will flow, if you please. Hopes and dreams, all to jot. With a touch, your shields may drop, Moments of clarity on a paper plot- And with enough, your pain will stop. It can cure the itch within, It can help you, just begin. Believe and you will see.. That most of all, Your pen may set you free. -Corbin