the heart laid bare

Archive

the curse
Under seige
Beyond the blues
Introspect
Balloon
push
a strange distance
SWIMMING ALWAYS DOWNWARD
A ONCE-FAMILIAR LANDSCAPE
No Apology
the thunder
tinder
VERBAL PORTRAIT OF A CAT OWNER
critical shortage
the sky we thought we knew
CIRCA SOLEM
almanac
baby
dearest orlando
FIVE MONTHS
A LETTER TO THE UNDESERVING
cactus heart
would we
the fall of giants
paradise lost
Dad
after you've gone
time
a smile from the eyes
trepidation
why so cold
fix this
swallow me
untitled 8
insular
cry alone
robin
quicksand
laces
D.I.S.C.
stripped
waving goodbye
your open eyes
enemy within
mortal
untitled 4
sleepless
OUTSIDER
untitled 9
come dream with me
in the face of adversity
one word
the dark of the night
untouchable
one and one makes two
you burn me
see me
this shaken core
my lover
helen
my room
his words
foolish
rita
chalk drawings
the longest night
stupid skeleton
CLOTHES MAKETH
FIRST LASTS
STELLAR
TODAY
I WATCHED A MAN DIE TODAY
THREE WEEKS
this slippery slope
untitled 5
Arrows
First Kiss
The Talk Of Love
Nicotine
Blackout

stripped

Each breath drawn brings gasping recollection
Of passion and rough handling.
 
The ringing blows of leather on warm skin,
The pressure of your hand on my hip -
Of grazing teeth and slippery, seeking tongues
Frantically dancing in the rising heat
To the jungle drums in our chests.
 
Stripped of my defences,
You paint such darkness on me.
As you want the things unspoken
You bruise my flesh to mark it as your own,
The brutal caress of iron fist in velvet glove.
 
Branded by fire and urgency,
Curtailed by restraints, I pause in the day-to-day,
Missing steps and heartbeats in the sudden flush of recall
Of the very bad things you do to me...
The things I let you do to me.
 
You redden my skin and force my hand.
I score your arms and thighs with the lines of my nails
As I suffer so exquisitely.
I would lay such filthy hands on you.
 
This rarefied torment somehow makes us more human than human.
It cannot be denied.
... reach into the blackness with me.
Let me show you.
Haul out the beast and hand him the reins
And I will bend my back to your whip.

© mjc 03 August 2013

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Biography

Daughter, sister, aunt, godmother, friend, public servant; self-confessed hermit, confirmed cat person, sporadic baker, irreformable yarncrafter, voracious reader; occasional wit, voluble shower vocalist, frequent sacrifice on the altar of brain-to-mouth filter fails, unrepentant purveyor of puns and dad jokes, writer and poet.

I have always lived by the theory that no matter what you do for a living - if you are compelled to write, if you wake up in the night to scrawl the contents of your dreams on a notebook beside the bed, if no event in your life seems complete without you recording it, if you are drawn to comment upon the world - then you are a writer.

These are my words.