"4 2 12"

"4 2 12"

You look delicious in teal
but it feels real
when you wear those black jeans.
Calling back fiends to the fix
with a hip switch.
I've an itch
that is more of an urge
to purge this distance between us.
Who's never seen us in action?
Passion apparent
like lack of a parent
ensuing child's play
on a much more deliberate level.
Polished my bezel before checking the time.
I find you're too far away.
Hard to play when
separated by confines.
Concubine misses mistress.
Distressed over distortion in portions
I hoped would never surface.
Purposely shouting you out
amid the whispers.
Gift of gossip we give
just to soothe their palate.
According to their average,
we've had our fair share of indecency.
Secrets shared by the lurkers
we identify as coworkers.
Further from a truth
that I wish wasn't a lie.
Goodbye for today
but take your time walking away
in those black jeans.

The black means so much unspoken.
Chosen among the myriad of names
I would ravage and maim
for their enjoyment.

Appeal in teal
for something more to reveal.
Concealed the clues hardly.
Alarming how obvious this risk is.

Vicious vamp,
they can't hold the lamp
or light the wick.

If I be encamped,
I'd be sure to stamp
until it sticks.

You make me sick.
You get me well.
You give me hell.

You make me swell.
I'd show and tell
if you never tell.

Yes.
This is real.

 















Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"(In){Her}[Vision]"

“(In){Her}[Vision]"

Felt the weather blow in.
Not that I was searching
but I couldn't find the sew-in.
Saw her around the way before
but I don't really know when
I started paying so much
attention to where she's going.
Straight hair,
bright skin
and dark leather fit to her frame.
I would offer no disclosure
of her first name.
It was never just "Hi"
whenever she would pass by.
She sought to pique my interest.
Maybe even test my limits.
She would pay close attention
to every slight grin or grimace.
She was as timeless as the warmth
of the furnace in December.
Still in all, much recalled
was more than I'd like to remember. 

Beginner's conversing
worth rehearsing in the mind
quickly replaced in taste
by what musings she would find
worth the time to peel back.
Drawing near just to peer
before placing the seal back
and I'm enamored by the annoyance.
Her clairvoyance confirms as much.
Welcome distraction from the traction
of this daily race
I've yet to find my pace with.

Blinks
before waves
before speaking
weaving well
into handshakes
and meetings
where general fond greetings
become hugs
and warm embraces
where we barely touch faces.

Each invitation mulled over.
Not sure if coming over
would mean that I'd eventually
have to come inside.
Recalled her jokingly saying
that if I don't pull out,
I wouldn't get the chance to.
I guess it's funny
when I think of what the hands do
unprovoked even.
Fascination broke even
with her opinion of society
from impropriety
to advancement.
Rather cautious glance with
subtle questions used
to guage participation.
Emulation isn't her Forte.
She uses information as foreplay
for the eager palate
and I would eat it bland or seasoned.

Reasoned with like chemicals.
More freelance than clerical.
Hysterical the amount of labor
some would fake to gain her favor
as if she couldn't see through it all.
I'd imagine men sprawling
calling
crawling
falling over each other
just to reach out as she hovers.
Makes me wonder what I've ransomed
for this much of her attention.
Talkative as I am perceived,
I've made more time to listen
and we've been at it for months now.

The sleeves are shorter
and the leaves don't blow.
The apprehensive mind
converts to "Please. Don't go."
and "I'll be back a little later."
Couldn't have made her
more fascinating if I dared to try.
Once cared more for why
but now I'm here for more.
To explore her uncertainty
and tap into that yearning...
...well worth learning
how to earn this much..
In her touch lies conviction.
When the lies are tradition,
She would not hide the friction
and that's hard to see.
Love is time. Not commission.
Lack of time is contradiction
because the promise of her vision
is why I wait
and watch
and listen.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Winter Vines"

"Winter Vines" 

I'd say you taste rich
like the best form of filthy
where guilty denied less
and desired so much more.
This floor ice cold
for the disrobed
disabling any real reason
to elude these covers. 

My mind hovers
slightly
under thoughts of what it might
be like if it grazed my tongue.
Frustratingly fun to consider
between shiver
and cold sweat.
I'd bet then wonder
then gather my assumptions
with a certain degree of gumption 

but I haven't asked yet.
That much I regret.

Took my favorite flavors
with intent to brush your skin
where it mingles with the meat of you.
Completely knew the method
but still lacked any true record
of your interest in the same.

Felt your name
roll off my bottom lip
the last time I came
and sent my joints into contusion.
Thoughts deliciously wrapped in confusion
as I unwind in my lost mind
and my down time
and it felt fine.

Drawn red as pomegranate crushed against ruby
over the possibility that still eludes me.
Lust easier to see
with every blink of the eye.
Drawn high in my ambition to reach low.
A hopeful yes for each potential no
that has never reached conversing.
Hurting to see
what would become of we
if you give in with me.

Secrecy the salve
that rubs in fast
but evaporates slowly.
The one with the lights
knowing me better in the darkness.
Thought this so far from formal
but even normal has no true format.

Not anymore, at least.

Have your seat.
Let me feast.
Release the secrets
that have served you well in seasoning.
Reasoning forsaken
awakening independence from the sensible.
This is critical.
No pressure, though.
Pleasure pairs well with the inquisitive mind.
Maturity in every tone.
An appetite alone
will grow until consoled
and control is just a grip away.
Part the lips this day
that I might say I've guessed right.
 
 Don't tell me what you taste like.

I'll find out on my own........

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Urges"

"Urges"

How long has your illness endured?
Thought for sure that you were cured
but the limits haven’t been tested,
stretched,
pushed
or even reached yet. 

Falsely pushing forward
to force the mind to forget
but the heart would regret that loss.
Tossed most of the thoughts away
like leaves swept into the bay
but today is as long as ever.
The strongest weather ensues
and the clues will surface.
Time will draw you in
regardless of your purpose
So think fast
if you truly wish to look past
before you blink.

To sink in feels so good.
Inhaled the aroma.
Seduction stinking somewhat sullen yet savory
thick as gravy
and as cumbersome as thighs.
You loosen with eye contact.
I've contacted you daily since the visit
but no words exchange.
No verbiage in range
Which is honestly a rarity.
The charity of the absent mind
to fall behind
what was a recent occurrence
looks to challenge the endurance
of the heart that will never accept regret. 

Are you cured yet?
Tried the sedatives? 

Habits repetitive
we use to replace
the moments felt in that embrace
as if the face would ever flush
like that again. 

Foolish, my friend. 

Power that bold
cannot be controlled
yet you are sold
solely to the notion
that this is a stain to wipe away.
I would like to say
but the obvious has the floor.
Slam and shut it out
but the keys that unlock the door
are only wishes away.
Stand still or get away.
That still won't change today
and the lust you dress as sorrow
will present itself tomorrow
fully furnished and adorned
in the tries and lies you've worn
to disconnect you from a want
that you pretend is not a need. 

Spilling of seeds
that don't hit the floor.
Shuffling of feet
that have left the shore
for the porch
and the doorbell.
You know Hell is full
of the pain you've put yourself through
in doubt of your desire
and even that fire
cannot consume the truth
that this fruit is only forbidden
for as long as it is hidden begrudgingly
so don't think that suddenly
is not forever.
Together we receive reprieve
in our deliberate relief
of a mutual struggle
where the tussle only serves
to fully ripen the nerves
around muscles erect and curved
ready to surge without atonement. 

Give me a moment.... 






























Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"To Drown"

"To Drown"

Submersion.
Dispersion of vital signs
splattered and scattered between ripples.
Crippling to recall the impact.
Intact barely.
Spared me no manner of forewarning.
Upon breach,
my free falling briefly becomes drift.
Why won't his angels
lift me up to the heavens already? 

I wasn't hard to see.
It's getting hard to see.
I'm working hard to breathe.
Losing the life I need.
Should my life be retrieved,
however,
I'd not think it much better
than this current state of affairs. 

Bogged down.
Tied down
by my limbs and my hair
unfair to unbalanced weight.
Comparing this slate
to that of the one placed upon my shoulders.
Holder of predicaments
hardly fit for low endurance
complete with the policy
and enough insurance
to ensure a profitable departure. 

Loathsome archer in his accuracy
practicing the kill shot.
Wrought iron still hot
as it stands still in the heart. 

Torn completely apart
From the possibility
that my probability of survival
could ever be truly favorable.
Choking it back as I sink.
It hurts when I blink
as a think of the gasp
that it would've taken to save me.
Love gave me some reasons.
Life just chimed in conviction.
Prescription of plague
I have sought to wash away
for years on end.
Even now,
my means aren't justified. 

Meant to hide beneath
but forgot that I can't speak
amid such deep cover.
Lover of the mist
whose wrists
are further from the shore
than initially anticipated.
Elated over refreshment
but the crash was unexpected
and I now suffer alone.
Made home in the futility.
Humility always catches up
abruptly
with something
to illuminate my bad ideas. 

Hoped that I would float
but the dead weight
obeys the law to the letter.
Thought better of the drive.
March of the parched.
I was desperate and thirsty
and now have more than I can swallow.
Vessel once hollow
has exceeded the brim quickly.
When I surface,
fix me
with the most delicate of laurels
but speak not of the misery
nor the victory I've failed to breach.
A life celebrated in lies
is one that can't be used to teach

So here I reach
but its too late to latch on.
Left you little evidence.
You always managed to catch on
before the scheme was complete.
No more flail in my feet.
Just my last thoughts discreetly shared
between my fading consciousness
and my fondest thought of you. 

Such a beautiful deep blue... 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Shoelaces"

"Shoelaces" 

Standing still in this place.
This face full of creamy skin.
Hue assured as milky
complete with hair this silky
whether short,
straight
or stringy. 

You. 

The often romanticized dream
I can now proclaim as real.
Everything we feel
as new and sudden
as the first chance.
Short glance before I step away
telling myself
"enough today"
as if I stand in compliance.
Still shots of you in silence
stir in me the dirtiest of violent thoughts.
Power uncommon
coursing through the overlooked. 

You. 

Never overwhelmed
at the helm of life.
Strife still stings
but you tie those strings.
Trifling things
but you tie those strings.
Pain attached
but you break that latch
and you scrape and scratch
and you peel that back. 

Does it feel like that when....?
I imagine.
I've.....imagined.
Fantasized honestly. 

I've seen
vandals in sandals
no more fit for the mantle
than that which collects dust.
The must of their tread
wreaks of ambition driven stale.
Ankles pale from lack of circulation.
Interpretation of mid-climb
forever forging a position
construed for blaming time
for the self served transgression
known as lack of progression. 

I've witnessed the witless.
Skipping in slippers.
Sipper of the cheapest brand.
Calloused hands
hug the plastic bottle.
Full throttle past the tonsils
Enter route to the liver.
Giver of tales
from years no longer recent.
Decent in self perception.
In their mirror a reflection
of what would have been
and what used to be.
Used to see
the opportunity in all things.
Now the lonesome heart sings
as the mind sways,
mumbling. 

Stumbling upon your design
is for the fortunate among us
and I'm still rubbing my eyes.
Clouds that drift this high
find time to displace.
God's grace
bathing over you in layers
thick enough to taste days away.
Words I've yet to say
never make it past my grin.
Smiles that mix the love within
with a bevy of new sins
we've enjoyed a hundred times
and then
for as long as my imagination lingers. 

Fingers formed for knots
that flip flops know nothing of.
Bare or gloved,
those hands reach
across each impedance
with the will to find balance.
Challenged daily
by those falling,
sailing,
flailing laces. 

Places like this
where my mind could slip
into the deepest sleep
if it meant our hearts could creep
closer with each nightly stroll.
Time took its toll
but the moments are worth a ransom
just to have some sensation. 

To feel your grip.
Your twist.
Your tuck between loops
circling hoops that trace this
precursor for the pace
where I can stand in place
hoping this life would take the time
to just embrace your face as I do
instead of trying to
outrun,
outlast
or simply look past it. 

Maybe we'll create new habits... 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"811"

"811"

It was almost an accident.

Accurate assuming
that this amusing perusing
would reach further than this bed.
I'm further in your head
than the heart could ever profess.
I confess that this is comfortable.
Controversial maybe
but the sticks and stones you're saving
barely bang or brush
or shave these whiskers.
Don't ask me to whisper
when I was the mister
that could poke his way through lies

with his eyes half open
and your thighs fully fanned.
Fancy hands that hold some history.
Your misery my absence.

It was some sort of intentional.

Even cynical, smug texts
would end up in tugs next.
Ephemeral rough sex.
I was the very best.
Tale told by every ex
overhearing they weren't good.
Used to wonder what's good
but I've seen this place.
I'm good
and I should
turn down the proposition.
Unless we talk,
don't care to listen.
When you spit shine,
I glare and glisten.
Unless I walk,
you aren't my mission
but that shit's mine.

I barely miss it.

Narrow in escape.
I have the cape.
I wouldn't save it, though.
Quick behind the drapes.
Embrace your shape
before I wave and go.
Made calls from the ground below.
Heard the yearning sounds below.
Unless you resound in "No"
way under the ground I go.
Whether it be sun or snow,
Weather underground to blow.
Lost beneath your lava flow.
Watched how high the lava goes
just for kicks and now you know
our time was picked without the show.

You wouldn't understand.
I'm a man
so isn't that my trait?
Every loop and strand
recalled like rubber bands
in the hands of fate.
Casualty of mockery.
Overtime you've docked from me.
Over time you'd knock for me
to display your hypocrisy

and not for me.
Rather so you'd feel better.
She was a flame.
I'll soon forget her
but I remember you so vivid.
Lonesome nights just lost and livid.
Lust like lipids once lukewarm
soon burn like fat to singe and harm
and hurt so good the helpless victim.
No real thrill. No life within them.
Salty with the bitter taste.
Squint your eyes and smush your face.
Milk and honey much misplaced.
Melting moments soon displaced

and where we stand
there are no plans
to lay with limbs
I part with hands.
I'm not your past.
I'm just a man.
I've no demands.
Not anymore.
No settled score.
Unsettled more with your permission.
Made prior calls in my position.
Once lined your walls with peak precision
but when you fall from my omission,
spare me the slight of your skewed vision.

Checked beforehand
long before hands
would be so instrumental.
Neck still purple, red and riddled.
Gasps from flesh that grazed my dental.
Hapless test confused the mental.
Had your guess been influential,
this would all be incidental

but this was almost accidental.

 















Almost is the most
that we could ever hope for
mostly.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Everything And Me"

"Everything And Me"

Pretend to be concerned
while you conceal the laughs.
Press on until you strike a nerve.
That's when you'll start to gasp.
Once viewed judgement with disbelief.
Couldn't conceive the laughter.
The line between relief and grief:
A myth.
A missing chapter.
No thought worth missing after
we've fought to fuel the rapture.

"What's wrong?"
Nothing.

Thought to say something
but the ear as lame as trend
won't recall where I begin
yet the eyes will drift on end
to ticking hand's impatient rend
impartial to how this may end.
At my end I've wasted wit
in lieu of cause I've deemed legit
responding with full gall and grit
in hopes that all would benefit.
Still young the years
seen in these eyes
amid the fear
and tears I've cried.
Watch as I form lies
so yours aren't shed.
Better off in head.
Better off when dead
when they talk about
without talking out
and they love to shout
in spite of support.
Hate the cherished sport.
Meaningless retort.
Mix the news report
with the scathing post.
Navy boats called gravy boats.
Maintaining boasts of profit.
Twisted logic all the sudden.
This does not fit what was governed.
Sulk about aside the sullen
until news comes from the southern
tip of things we must endure.
Fleeting pristine.
Nothing pure will last this long.
Dissecting slurs like classic songs
whose lyrics ring well in the mind.
Lost on cordial, calm and kind.
Militant as long as time
lends credence to this headline.

"What's the problem?"
Never mind.

Mine never when
minds mine through mine mind
like mines.
Excavation on display.
Escalation that of carefully
calculated inflation:
considerably convenient in delay.
New in ways to rue the day.
Grew today
to be snatched at the root.
Fruit half consumed
as the rest are tossed aside.
Took pride in my impending denial.
Vile I appear in petition.
Classified under condition
should I ever challenge tradition.
Classic.
Transition not commonly seamless.
Seen less after the fallout
than there was before I called out
to blame
and name
and shame without the desire to maim.
I the one of a lone few
that knew the need for seeds
was far greater than the wood
stripped away from less aged trees. 

The trees drew more concern
than the forest that slowly burns
and in term, there is nothing in turn
to expound upon what we have learned.

What have you earned?
My silence.

No whispers from violence
debated over more than dashed.
No inflection per direction
of selective dereliction
by those who support affliction
against opposing views of diction.
The conflicting views
seen as miscues misunderstood
by the very best bad
marching as the greatest good.
Stood here and witnessed transformation
in confused horror instead of elation.
God's creation hinged on fixation
taught that hate needs no translation
and that love kills universally
although hate would end us openly.
Over me you've made your choice.
From under you've snatched my voice
once filled with ambitious promise.
Skewed your views and bruised the polish
granted to untapped potential.
For your effort instrumental
in incidental, hapless chains
that will soon prove consequential,
I will slight this mind still rushing. 

"What's the matter, Devin?"
Nothing.

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Brut(Redux)"

We're loving this past our limit.
Knowledge of right and wrong
has nothing to do with it.
Homage paid displayed
on trays with silver handles...
that we've never had to handle.
Thank goodness as we mishandle
every thing that we toast to.
I'm supposed to
treat our truths with tact,
ignore when you overreact
and enjoy in spite of the fact
that you've knocked over three bottles worth.
Bottles work well when they want to
like when I want you
and you've no will to decline
or like when we chase the silence,
an extra bottle is fine
or like when we spark the violence
and our actions define
that of a perfect disaster.
I talk
but you shout faster.
I walk
but you run faster.
She confronts
but he outlasts her
and the world notices.
All we know is this
besides the bottom of the glass
and the crash that is yet to be explained.
Maintain condition.
That pain commissioned
to replace a powerless persuasion
inclined to that of sober minds
so to find room for another campaign
for that case of champagne
makes these red and gold stains
almost completely worth it.
Drink until we find perfect.

"Brut(Redux)"

"Brut"

"Brut" 

If I made time
to look at your face,
I'd tell the truth
but all I care to see
sits still in this flute.
Silhouette yet adorned in soft light
so I can't hide from you.
Not even on late nights.
Flights from common
to the rarest of cities.
Felt the frost of regret
long after hoping you'd come with me.
The sun just fills me
with reasons to abstain.
The bubbles in this glass...
they run away from the rain
to stain this tray.
Figured they'd gain a way
to secure their getaway
but they lost their vessel. 

How have we managed? 

Advanced your vantage
from meager to militant.
Innocent in perception.
Favorable dereliction from the norm.
Used once as fear from harm
to tell the tale of half truths.
Another half flute and debate ensues.
Conversing I've come to rue:
Confirmed again that men
are truly demonic creatures
with such heavenly features.
The staunch teachers of irony.
Loathsome, tiring, uninspiring, conventional
words bred of the cynical
recited in cyclical rhythm
as often as the songs taught to toddlers.
I find her and request another bottle:

"Miss,
stay awhile.
I am throttled by my company.
Come now.
Comfort me.
Let me not suffer this alone."

Majesty upon your throne
sneering away at me,
your assumed vagabond
perceived as plotting between your legs
and those of the next waitress that smiles.
Wiles I've no reason to confirm
or beg pardon for if affirmed.
Tiles harder to walk across.
With every sip,
a slip awaits the stumbler.
Your slumber my reward.
Life is hard.
Love ain't easy.
That was painful.
I am queasy.
Found this so easy to drink.
Sipping between every blink.
Gulp til we don't care to think.
Stemware strewn across the sink.
Detergent can't wash away
anything about we.
Hungover for days
finding ways to dream about we:

About how it fizzles
and tickles when we kiss.
About our favorite year.
That one bottle we've missed. 

About how crazy gets
a little lazy when we're drunk.
About minds so hazy
we locked the keys in the trunk. 

About the only way
to ensure that we reconvene.
About how I'm an asshole
for perceiving you as mean. 

About time that is better when
it is experienced instead of measured.
About our blatant obscenities
trapped in moistened love letters. 

I highly doubt the fact
that this is a public conversing
will encourage some tact
before more yelling and cursing.
Blurt in spurts words
that the heart should never hear.
Asking you to go back home
when I still want you near.... 

Choke the tears back.
They make it taste flat
and we've paid too much in privacy
not to have something of quality. 

Call over the waitress......

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"The Wages"

"The Wages" 

Wire barbed
and my thighs are scarred
and my skin is scored
and the open pores
mark a thirst for more.
Torn through flesh
to a solid core.
I am violent more
than I was before.
Keeping score?
Liked me less
when I would talk more
but loved me best
when I could not best
though I would resist
and you could desist
but you would not cease
so I tend to wounds
and I seal each crease.
Before I heal soon,
you would steal my peace. 

You don't have the room.
Nothing in the least.
Time I would not lease
So let me speak my piece.

My only demand
is that you understand
before you rake my hand. 

I spent the best days of my life
looking for the right people.
To be truly honest,
I really don't think I like people.
Unlike people,
I don't square off in an instance
for a problem better solved
beyond proximity and distance. 

So you wonder why I climb high;
sliding through the sharp.
Not for rainbows, milk and honey
or an angel with a harp.
They will see me mortified.
Teardrops dangling from their eyes
at the view of hanging flesh
in lieu of covet in distress.
Dress this scene.
Press it clean.
Pull the remnants from my dreams.
Nothing left of the obscene.
Every rung a truth unseen.
Secrets stashed upon this ladder.
The latter I've fancied created.
Wished for ways to make it
easier to vault
without impedance and halt.
Metal burning scabs like salt.
You learned nothing from your fault 

but I have earned today
regardless of what you will realize

and my eyes are fixed
on these jagged,crumbling bricks
that break and crack
before they fall.
Watch me crawl
if your heart will allow
as I hang from it all
and you aim to stall
the journey that will surely
claim you as next to embark.
Destined to rise from the dark
since sandcastles in the park

but this climb won't end until we start. 



Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Warm Sugar"

"Warm Sugar"
 
Imagined you breached.
Briskly broken.
Blissfully burst forth ...
from the very first moment
that my lips intended to graze.
Softer than glaze
dancing in ribbons
as it twirls about fingertips
to land on the tongue.
Hung well
on promises of the milky.
Sweet cream this young.
This fresh.
This silky
This pure.
Enduring no process
to progress through maturation
in the manner nature envisioned.

This is what endears me to you.

From your scent
to your hue
to your texture so complex
and intricate
and delicate
and decadent.
The frost left in your wake
serves to confirm why I am seething.
Perceived somewhat misleading
until the day my breathing
sweetened the taste of every sigh.
Wished for what
and wondered why
while wanting how

to take place here and now.

Rubbed you slow against my brow.
Felt you quake and tremble.
Actions that resemble
anticipation from neglect.
Starved for one who will not let
one single grain escape unclaimed.
The lust untamed.
I bust the frame.
I break it out.
I take it out.
I let you come.
I feed you some.
It smears across the teeth.
The spell is strung.
Sensations sung
too loud to be discreet.

Every crease a compliment
on counters sitting pretty
resting wide with eyes and grinning
lower lips that whisper

"Come And Get Me."

Sitting plain
on marble plains
where streaks and stains
have stated plain
that I acknowledge pain with more.
Portions of you on the floor
still dripping from the handle
and I handle the upholstery
forcefully
for sake of savoring the morsels.
What gathers in a pool below
to crystallize in viscous flow
is drawn from where the kisses go
while braids are held beneath torso.

Watch it crush and crumble
as it tumbles across tonsils.
Taste buds tingling in counsel.
Lost to wander at the knees.

Please.

My imagination
goes further than fascination.
Potent as libation
proofed to the next degree
like a syrupy sea
washing across my sweet tooth
tingling to chew
all that is you
until quivers become numb.
Licking lips and sucking thumbs.
Sweetest scent filling my lungs.
Stole from shame collecting crumbs

 















and you don't even know........

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Wet Blades"

"Wet Blades" 

This traction.
Distraction....
....Palms over awnings.
Drawn to the scent relentlessly.
Spent after dreams
realized through screams so violent
that used to vex in silence.
I am conscious of what led me.
Head swimming in the rapture of it all.
Soaked walls with sweat
whilst we kept regret at bay.

Today has taken place
for what felt like lifetimes
before this very instant.
Can't afflict while distant.
Can't invoke unprovoked.
Can't tie the rope.
Can't watch you choke
so deep the air escapes
with fairer drapes to peek through.

Moistened sharps.
Torn apart.
Peeled you slightly.
Let you bite me
and pretend to fight me
only to ensure disappointment
should our bond become disjointed.

You're too sick for we....

So I'm tarnished
here and there subsequently
Your character haunts me so violently.
Shall we overcome?
triumphantly.....

Shadowed and shamed through black marrow
Rained on with sparrows
I can only feel your arrow
Piercing my lungs
Harder to focus with short breath
Your new nest
Sits best
; heavy on my chest
After this relentlessness
I need bed rest, yes.

Mere formality
For pageantry that ensues.
Imbued with a lust
That trust identifies as forsaken.
Awakened in full bloom.
Away locked in this room.
Array that I assume.
A way this milky moon
Vanishes in our shadow.
A zone fit for the shallow.
Cracked bones to sip the marrow.
Unzipped,
Clipped
and slashed.
Embattled victim.
Watched you sulk for savages
Nowhere near as ravenous as me.
Aimed to ravage. They just feed.
My advantage is your need.
Rip and ram to spill the seeds.
The moon will hide.
She cries.
We bleed. 

Roses growing from concrete.
Stiff feet
Mere formality
Blurry realities
I'm back.
Up against the wall
I won't crack
This is clearly a hack
Time tested
contradictions
Unwavering projections
life lessons
No contestant.
I'm looking for a simile
to hide the things I really mean
But ain't no half stepping
when I'm left second guessing.

What remains certain is the temperature.
We won't grow old
if the blood is cold
and the edges crust over time.
Sublime that fateful encounter.
Fruitful reminder
of what surfaces
when motive is not disclosed.
Clothes stained
from exposed membranes
I have sought to poke and twist.
More fun when you resist
and reach for me.
Expose your wrists
and watch the essence flail.
Cascade high then fall like hail
Smooth the swing. The slice won't fail.
Saw you cry but they can't tell... 

Written By: Evelyn Rivera & Devin Joseph Metz

"Thief Amid Darkness"

"Thief Amid Darkness" 

You're the best of my worst occurrence.
My warmth near the chilly furnace
furnished for what dreams
can't even think to warn me of.
Light from above.
You would blind me with love
then you'd bind me.
Silk gloves.
Sitting here cold and nervous.
Your perceived purpose concealing your penchant.
Pendant your sole lead.
I need you
and you leave remnants to ensure such.
Moments when we touch
fill the air with our aroma.
I hear our song before long
and you impart this persona.
This orientation
Disorientation.
Disturbing joy and grace
and I am displaced.
Misplaced my disgrace
yet I fish for desire.
My ire invaluable
but malleable
in the hands I've only felt
once without silk imparted.
Charted out this course
after intercourse
looking forward to our discourse.
More to discover
but as time hovers,
the same is said
for these chances that elude me. 

You used me. 

You use me. 

Still. 

I would kill to feel.
The feeling in my mouth.
You filling in my mouth.
Me feeling you throughout
until I don't think
or care to breathe.
Silk never slid
although sleeves roll up
and the sheets fold up
and we rest in this zone
at our best all alone. 

Here I rest
all alone. 

Drained as my phone is.
Deep as the tone when
realizing what you take away.
Your getaway predetermined.
Planned long before arrival.
Practiced like recital
before an audience anticipating illusion. 

Therein lies the simplest confusion. 

I seem to aid you.
I've made you
the greatest escape artist
of my love, life and times.
You acknowledge I am handsome.
I your ransom
should light ever seek to reveal.
Amid moments in the darkness,
you steal whilst I remain still
in the thrill of your presence.
Enough essence to evade the inquiry
over an infatuation that could lead to
times that might impart accusations
that should've been introductory.
Covered in your cloak.
Smothered as I choke
and my face turns blue
but I won't turn you away from me. 

Leaving me
long before you see
where you've misplaced compassion.
Your passion less hinged on me
when fixed on the energy.
Ice cold skin
never warm without my touch.
Learned as much
after your first attempt at trust.
Too much to process.
Former digression from the initial dereliction
that somehow enchants us both. 

You won't float
unless I'm allowed to swim
and I won't drown
even when you pull me down
and you won't sink
for the remnants that I drink
and before my last blink,
you've taken the time to think
to include me in your plans
without employing demand.
So very far I'd fall.
For you, I'd gladly crawl
even still as you stand 

to walk away. 

Even as I say,
the truth is that I'll always stay
to wait for our next chance to play.
But....
How much is left to steal away
today? 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Level"

"Level" 

Mind shut off from the depth of it.
Closed eyes from the rest of it
just to rest a bit.
Just to veer to the left of it
as if it never existed.
The living is twisted.
The fear is smaller now
when placed next to discomfort.
This is awkward.
That was worse
but this feels just like the first
so I can't tell the difference.
Can't yell.
Indifference.
Can't feel.
Indifferent.
Can't sell myself on much better.
Forgetting until condemned.
I wish I'd grabbed his hymn.
I'd wish for 2010 again.
Thank God that I'm older
but I smile less when I'm sober
and influence is assumed.
String of rooms all to myself
and I can't help not sleeping.
Steeping in my thoughts
by my lonesome.
I'm not lonesome.
Never lonely.
Thoughts.
They own me
and I've never been a nickel short.
Retort met season rather than reason.
Not for sake of rationale.
More to highlight how I fell
or if I've even climbed.
More inclined to my heartstrings
than I'd like the next to know.
Pride I show
mistaken for a show of masculinity
and offended me would try
but the rendered me just dies
a little more with explanation.
Duration rarely in my favor..
I may toil.
I know labor
but there is no fruit to savor.
I've so little I can show.
Encouraged that I still grow
but what I know now is deflating.
Time negating progression.
Obsession with procrastination
and confusion.
Told illusion is my compass.
The compassion scraped from edges
like the starving chased by death. 

I want no more of this depth.
This abyss.
Empty kiss cold near the furnace.
I can't burn this.
I have earned this
and I'm too tired to ask why. 

The blow.
The sigh.
The shaking head.
Such things are as dead
as the hands that implore frustration.
Situations where expressed need
masks the pungent taste of greed
and I don't ask
nor do I heed.
Just serve the slop
and I will feed.
Stale nourishment
Malnourished shit.
Some of it flung against the wall.
The texts.
The calls.
Would eat it all.
You need it all to furnish me
but this domicile is hollow.
Where you would once reside
I wallow.
If my heart decides,
I follow
but I'm not much for time.
None borrowed. 

We're not over yet
but I'm over it.
Well overdue.
Well,
over you
and I'd go through you
with eyes slow to view
what I'd hold you to
if I only knew 

how much it meant for me to care. 

That'd be fair, right?

There's cooler air most nights.
I sometimes fear how I would fare
out there in my rocking chair.
Body riddled with stress.
Skin as wrinkled as regrets
I've thrown away after they were written.
According to who you ask,
not so much of me is hidden
so if certain things reveal
all of what I truly feel,
maybe then some of that solace
can replace an empty promise
or two.
Hopefully a few.
The harsh exist for purpose
even when lost and nervous.
Uncertainty the adversary.
The scene obscene.
The setting scary.
Hands clasped beneath the clothes.
Memories we both impose.
Ringing words hang in ear lobes.
Mind wide open
Eyes still closed. 

Leave me be. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"Climate"

"Climate" 

And who will write their words?
Speak into existence
all the sentences that air heard. 

Pardon me. 

While I'm here snacking on hors d'oeuvres,
they're asking for orders.
Molotov and torch heard.
Was taking my orders
but now
the check is on the counter
and the apron on the floor.
They are kicking in the door.
They were denied something more.
Never owners of our stores.
One of many excuses
used to substantiate abuses
they have suffered in a blatant sense.
Another decrease in numbers.
No wonder we're tense
and I've been latent since
my last recollection of that run in.
Woman across from me
and I don't know her name.
Another ounce of words I can't pronounce.
Expensive champagne.
Things weren't this strange
until it felt this strange
to see how much time changed.
Their throats slit and blood stained 

and who will write their words?
Speak into existence
all the sentences that air heard
but where birds fly,
I've seldom seen a bullet. 

Could fix my fortune on portion
but I might still pursue it
in manners they don't peruse.
Their challenge is in the news.
Biased political views
from those wearing the shoes
that have yet to frequent chalk.
No walks amongst caution tape
without camera.
Handle you
by handing you preparation
like lyrics from ghostwriting.
Talk more and more about the fighting,
rioting,
pillaging,
burning of buildings
but less about the reason why.
There is a shelf life in media.
Soon to be update on Wikipedia
when my people die. 

My people. 

I watch the hate
in their eyes when I can't relate
as if I'm trying to be down.
How I never come around.
How I never thought to visit.
Life outside of city limits.
My progress seen as a gimmick
My success washed over images
of those my age that cry
over those my age that try
but before that cage would pry,
most of those my age would die
and not nearly enough of it
was circumstantial.
That trip back to where I once was
I thought to cancel.
Found no reason to travel miles
just for rejection.
Especially over the misconception
that I wouldn't need protection.
Entourage econolodged.
Driver took a day.
Made it here with no delay.
They all have so much to say.

I know it's hard
but who truly stands to record? 

I'm still wondering:

Who will write their words?
Speak into existence
all the sentences that air heard. 

More bullets than birds. 

Blood curdles and boils.
Battering rams at doors.
The scratches of open sores.
Profusion through open pores.
They try to even the score
but no one cares to count.
The alive count five
or six a day
but that delay in the broadcast
is an attempt to watch them fall fast
under criticism.
News for the country
but something stale in journalism.
Church bells are rung
and then the time comes to negotiate
over the fate of killers
protected by those willing to deliberate.
Orchestrate some denial
and polish it up as progress.
Attend a senseless trial
and fish for some due process
to stave the reprimand.
Our blood still on his hands
A gun placed in the hand
of the young man who was unarmed.
Not charmed by their wiles
or their rhetoric.
Fight to take away our pride
but quick to call us heretics.
Selective embellishment
as long as our culture is defined
as entertainment for the times.
Pockets lined from the maligned
but the militant intimidate.
Their mandate exclusive.
All inclusive in their targets.
Strange their fruit you used to harvest.
Flung my cufflinks.
Tossed my shirt.
Parked my sedan.
Off from work.
Took this trip all by my lonesome.
Thought I came here for the wholesome
but I've walked into this war.
Cops that spar with the defenseless.
Night stick.
Gun butt.
Beat us senseless.
Place cross hairs against our brows.
Frame us later.
Kill us now. 

I know now
and I've been writing.
Witnessed riots.
Saw the fighting.
Knew what media would cover.
Social mediums discovered
ways to apply new restrictions.
Threat with sanctions.
Tease conviction.
Hide description under race.
Only show the victim's face
after the suspect is secured.
I am intrigued.
I am lured.
I invest time in the unknown.
I was silent.
I have outgrown. 

You won't like me.
I am concrete.
You cheap leather.
You will not spite me.
You don't compete.
You know better. 

The people you have slain
live on further in my brain
for my heart cannot contain
it all without a call
to have knowledge applied
to supplement and reside
next to violence so consequential.
I may not condone it
but I certainly will own it
and while others phone it in,
I'll just pick up this pen

and bring to the surface what the air already knew. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"F.U.C.K.M.E."

"F.U.C.K.M.E."

You'll kick start
from what the mountain do.
Fresh flesh quivers
before mounts of dew
that I will deliver
like the mystic river.
Giver of pain.
Never could refrain.
Ledger of pleasure.
I will not abstain
so lose your brain
while you leave some stains.
Give you piece of mind.
Take a piece of mine
Taste and take my time
Eat it from behind.
Open like wet pores.
Garments on the floor.
Wide open doors
so they hear your screams
whilst I lick you clean. 

Got me

Feeling
Under
Crevices.
Kicking
Massive
Energy.

Face still in it.
Let me finish.
Ignore grimace.
Grind through limits
as I run my laps
neck just trapped
between sensation and thrill.
Have my fill
then give you a taste.
Wet like honey.
Paste my face.
Silk and lace.
Squirm in place.
Adjust position.
You do not understand ambition
So I overstate
and I over-ate
and it's getting late
and I'm getting big
so I slob and spit
where my fingers slid 

so I can start 

Feeling
Under
Crevices.
Kicking
Massive
Energy. 

Fortune favored more than luck
Fortune for no zippers stuck
Unzip.
Untuck.
Found nips you've tucked.
Round nips to suck.
Buttons you pluck.
Tip kissed then sucked.
Head well, untamed.
Head swells from games.
Head game complex.
Rhythm complicated
but you maturate it.
You saturate it.
Sides saturated.
Lips locked.
Elated.
Too much excitement.
I won't fight it.
Please don't bite it.
Can't keep quiet
and won't keep still.
Mind, mouth and throat.
You take your fill.
Across tonsils
you let me spill 

as I imagine 

Feeling
Under
Crevices.
Kicking
Massive
Energy. 

No hands in.
Tongue dancing.
Lips dampened.
I cast in
and then draw out.
All out
and all for it.
Call for it.
Crawl toward it.
Can't afford it.
Something priceless.
Of all my vices,
I'll never fight this
warmth surrounding intensive strength.
Strokes of girth and extensive length.
Punch the passion til purple-pink.
Hear the tears and I feel your blinks
before eye contact
where I give you some
then I take it back
and you rake my back
then you take it back
and I wring your hair
and you hold it there
and we stop and stare
and we need some air
but we ignore need
when our want is need
and we want to feed
thoughts that curse and plead 

whenever we start 

Feeling Under Crevices.
Kicking Massive Energy. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

"{Night}(Shade)[Tirade]"

"{Night}(Shade)[Tirade]" 

Way too dark.
Can't see the thoughts.
I'm not elated.
Just lost. 

Impressed by your precision.
Distressed by your decisions.
Obsession tossed around
and dragged across the ground.
Far from home throne
supposedly fortified with cobblestone and blacktop
until the top is black
so you can hop back
into comfort and hang up your pretentiousness.
Eyes wide open
but can't find anything in front of me.
Conveniently confronting me
on my perceived indifference.
Diligence to preserve innocence
while persecuting those
who will not join in the arms race.
Your pace cut.
Copied.
Pasted.
Wasted on the trend of the month.
A front to mask your appearance.
Clearance for any notion
that you just might like the potion
you accuse the world of drinking. 

I stand still
but I'm thinking.
Hands in front of me.
Finger feelers
searching for the filler
in your well placed appeal.
Strategic soapbox stance.
Employing the trance
and threatening the lonesome thinkers.
Tinker with the facts
until it looks more like opinion.
Spite the masses.
Organize the minions
to serve master in malice
and carry out more of the tragic
acts that should lead to a magic solution. 

The Establishment Cannot Condemn The Institution. 

Don't know the time.
Searching for light.
You don't want a fight.
You'll be here tonight
and I know.
It can be taxing
waxing militant
about ignorance
until asked about real world news.
Paid dues in desecrated discipline.
Adrenaline laced pace
charged by selective media
you purport across selected mediums
where the keys smoke faster than the barrel.
Times that travel with the spark
behind the scenes
and in the dark.
A pool of sharks starved for chum
and here we come:
The vilified led in the late
to await the murky waters.
Found it harder to swim at night.
Can't get right
or get away.
Not again.
Not today.
Cussed at if we walk away
by activists of today
that will not buy a ticket
or picket,
assemble,
organize,
occupy
or die tomorrow
for what the same sunlight suicide crusade
that they raved about two days ago. 

Way too dark
Can't see your fist
but graze my chin
and say I tripped
if asked how the stagnant tumbled.
Bastards to the belligerent bastion.
Factions cloaked concealing daggers.
Waving.
Raving.
Belting out the boisterous chatter.
Swinging rifles after trial.
Burning buildings after verdict.
Lord knows something serves a purpose.
Lord knows you're less angry than nervous.
Under pressure self implied.
Switch maneuvers. Exercise.
Pressed for diamonds. Futile goals
when pressed for time to crack the coals
and over time, it should've changed
but after hours look the same. 

Certain hours.
Curtain powers.
Cyberspace.
Inbox then inside the space.
Square pegs between the legs.
Earlier?
Liquor and kegs.
Before that?
Skim through the facts,
plan to react
and stab us when we trim the fat.
Toss reason in the vat and boil it brown.
Add revolution. Tear it down.
Make sure it drowns in each batch.
Whenever we break the latch
or find a way to break the seal,
your soul reveals no tolerance.
Common sense the rarest deal.
Anarchy on eighty proof.
So many sips.
You puke the truth.
Extend recollection.
Examine direction.
Don't question my digestion
while seated in the crowded section
where the nose bleeds
and they throw seeds
at passersby who won't watch the game.
Claimed and you don't know my name.
Assumption the sharpened blade.
You will swing and slice in light
but will you vex under the shade? 

Way too dark.
That's why I stand still.
Way too much.
That's why I chill
and just because I'm drifting,
don't think your anger is uplifting.
You are not the rise of man.
You are warm milk and ceiling fan. 

Say your prayers.
Amen. 

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz