Verbal cunnilingus.

fe94f6785a9177c04bd7689ad647512b.jpg (296×600)

Puppeteers tongue
Gives rise to lovers peak.
Verbal cunningulus.
The verges rush, held,
pulled, pushed, held.
Teasing of strings,
perfected vibrations.
Puppeteers tongue
commands rise to
lovers peak. . .
commands control
commands discipline
commands the rise and
fall of oxytocin.
Puppet can do nothing,
but obey master.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image found on Pinterest

Photographers name can be found on the image.

A trail of massacre in my wake.


Menstruating blood seeps through the

cracks of my hormones plunging me into the depths

of normality, to be female, so easily led by useless

emotions that spill across cheeks.

A jolt into reality to see what you see,

instead you show me the tainted

pages that already haunt my thoughts.

Aneath the crimson onslaught

I tear your soul from

words fought,

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Words and image.

Insecurities rush, the blind side.


It claws at me gently as hormones rise,

I know the uncertainty of insecure skies,

When enough, leaves and I see not a thing

Oh how I know what the short rise will bring.

But if nothing is all and all is free,

There’s nothing left for my broken soul, to see.

A blank page and empty space

Expect nothing, leave negative space.

I’m a whisper, a silhouette a bland empty ghost,

So alone I stand and alone I host.

Karen Hayward ©2017