Broken Circuit

I am

A broken circuit

Blinking

On-off-on-off

On-on-on

On all night

My brain

Like the city

Never sleeps

Flashing, buzzing

Like a bright,

Street sign

Screaming

DANGER

Tripping

Feet like fuses

Lighting up

Like fireworks

Under

Little dogs

And toddlers

I am

A drunken

Skinny cow

Disease

Stumbling

On-on-on

On all night

An inconvenience

In this

24/7

Convenience store

Serving

Atrophied meat

To the

Walking dead

That raid the

Aisles and ATMs

I am

A bundle of

Nerves

Zip-zapping

On-on-on

On all night

Like city traffic

Burning

Coursing

Through my veins

Ebbing

Flowing

Crashing

Causing limbs to

Bounce

Thrash

Tense

Like maimed

Pedestrians

Scattered

On crosswalks

I am

Swerving

Off course

On this

Hypersensitive

Central

Nervous

Highway

System

Driving

On-on-on

On all night

I am

The city

That never sleeps

~kfu

Warrior Marks

A lover once told me

as I covered up the marks

on my marred alabaster skin

that scars are beautiful battle wounds

that prove you survived

fighting a difficult fight.

But I have a myriad of scars

that make me shudder

the worst of which no man can see

because they’re hidden deep inside

where they multiply and intensify

waging war on me

cutting closer and closer

to my delicate core

carving visible flaws

in my body’s design

redirecting its course

so that it opposes and fails me

and finally, brought to my knees,

I wonder how much strength

it will take to fight this inner battle

against me, for me

and how beautiful

winning this war would be.

~kfu

All Is Not Dead

All is not dead

On the streets or in my head

Lifting lids from a lazy slumber

Winter’s spell I’d fallen under

Now new life springs from near death

Exhaling a potent, perfumed breath

Pollen lips upon my skin

Honeyed warmth comes flowing in

All is not dead

On the streets or in my head

Lifting lids from a lazy slumber

Winter’s spell I’d fallen under

Words once stuck like gum to shoe

Now sprout from my brain like life anew

Winding the grid – north, south, east, west

To the rooftop I love best

Showering down on Tompkins’s lawn

Blanketing Earth in a lazy yawn

A picnic of food for thought

Nourishing life I thought near lost

All is not dead

On the streets or in my head

A vignette of Manhattan in spring

My senses are savoring

Bikers buzz by like busy bees

Love birds neck under canopied trees

All this I observe from a five-story seat

Better than any weekend Hampton retreat

All is not dead

On the streets or in my head

Basking under springtime rays

I hope for more of these blissful days

~kfu

The Immigrant

The immigrant

who owns the coffee cart

near Union Square

speaks Arabic with my friend,

laughing and flashing his decaying teeth

as he tells her she works too hard

and drinks too much

caffeine

~kfu

Groundhog Day

Disheveled hair and dress

O, what a beautiful mess!

Sleep walking into a sweaty state

Grunting, groaning, heartbeat soaring

Am I dreaming?

Am I dressed?

Yes, in yesterday’s clothes

The same as a day, two days, a week ago

Press rewind; repeat

Ready, set, go!

No, I forgot my shoes

Spent too many times hitting snooze

In a delirious, dreaming state

I scream, but do not wake

Run, run, run!

That hamster wheel

Count the fluffy, white sheep

Laughing in my face

As I struggle to stand

Time stuck still

If I jump, will I land

On two feet

In glacial waters

Flowing red across my chest

Am I dead?

No, but barely alive, at best.

~kfu

The Gift Of Enlightenment

Darkness.

Fear erupts suddenly from the depths of their bowels, causing a wave of nausea to wash over them in one, swift, sickening second – bodies tremble.

Confidence radiates threateningly from Her commanding figure as She scrutinizes the scared, shuddering subjects displayed in front of Her – body erect.

_

Panic surges forth, releasing a jolt of adrenalin to their bloodstream, coating the surface of their stripped skin with a saline sheen and filling their heads with a rhythmic thud that drowns out all other sounds – hearts pound.

Calm follows Her every movement as She skillfully and deliberately binds and restrains Her paltry victims whose perfectly pale and primed bodies beg for toying and disciplining as their lips plead for mercy – heart freezes.

_

Helplessness emerges as jaws are popped open and stuffed snuggly with gags while hands and feet are bound together tightly; arms anchored securely overhead, leaving them dangling languidly like puppets on a string to perform mutely for their mistress – blood drains.

Excitement springs forth like a feline to its prey, causing Her heart to pound, heaving Her chest up over the confines of Her tightly laced corset.  Her stern hand gripping and snapping a stiff, leather crop against the heel of Her black, patent boot.  Arousal titillating Her flesh as She soaks in the sight of Her sorry subjects – blood surges.

_

Pain shoots out like electricity from every nerve ending, causing their muscles to tense and tighten in a spastic dance.  Their bodies marked targets for torture, enduring smacking and jostling, prodding and poking like piñatas at a sadistic party.  Both guy and doll sway to and fro, heads bowed low, hot salt water springs erupting forth, streaking red, roughed-up faces and raw skin branded with crimson colored wounds and welts – flesh stings.

Pleasure envelopes Her entire body, bringing Her heightened senses to a violent climax as She finishes off the unmasking of the pretenders – flesh inflames.

_

Respect surfaces and attitudes change as the humility and pain seep deep into the core of their badly beaten bodies – egos shatter.

Distain replaces infatuation as her subjects lie abraded and exposed on the cold, hard ground for the world to witness the rawness of their imperfections – ego soars

Enlightenment.

~kfu

The City That Never Sleeps

1AM

Heat hissing from a corner steam pipe in my room

Wakes me like a nightmare on Elm Street

But this is Alphabet City, NYC, not a Freddy Krueger film

Where the screaming is not coming from my mouth

But from the deep throat of a woman four floors down

Breaking into my room through a slit of open glass

Quickening my pulse and tying up my insides

Because I know those not to be screams of fear

But extreme ecstasy the likes of which have not

Inflamed my lips to such passion in months

But who’s counting?

The ticking clock by my bedside, perhaps

Marking the minutes of my celibacy and her rush to God

Oh, God!

She’s coming at 1:22AM

On a Friday night

When church is closed

But this is the city that never sleeps

And apparently, nor do I

~kfu