Describe this hunger.

Use sharp words, words filled with edges. Words with heat, words that sear when laid out against your thoughts.

Words that are not nearly enough.

This hunger demands more; this hunger is not attraction. It is not desire. It is not physical lust.

It feeds on them. It uses them to find purchase inside you. It is stronger then physical need or mental addiction. It goes beyond craving. It moves unceasingly under your skin, feral and raw. It overrides all other social imperatives. The cold mask it wears hides the pulsating need underneath.

This hunger doesn't react – it is. It is your hand finding her neck as you push her roughly to the ground. It is the sound of the front door closing and clothes shoved aside for a hard fuck against the wall.

D'jaevle, Aphrodisiac

the road to perdition

He comes when you need him but never when expected.

He is impatiently patient; he waits with unconcealed desire.

He will always tell the truth, but never tell you what you most want to know.

His eyes are not without kindness, but you will never understand it; even his kindness has purpose.

He will not settle.

D'jaevle, Devil Arriving

fountain of splinters

A carving, a slow deliberate cut, curled petals sharp enough to splinter; known touch with fingers outstretched, following the grooves, the moist wooden harbor I fight to free you from.

I worshiped you once, as goddess and tree. Your heartbeat was stronger then mine, slow as molasses and timed for the season. Your roots went deeper, stretching far enough back to taste the earth.

And you danced. Oh, how you danced, your gown of red and yellow tattered by the song, your arms stretched to the sun and the moon and the stars. You danced; but you danced only for the wind. 

I wanted you to dance for me.

Who will earn your tears?

Who will taste the evidence of your sorrow?

Who will kiss away the remnants of your joy?

I will.

D'jaevle, Rainmaker

nice shoes

NE suggested a slightly different take on my audio clip below; ever the benevolent dictator, I've replaced the clip with the newer version.


Tonight is a time of hunger, when the wolf is close enough to the surface that I can feel the cold yellow eyes looking out.

is it ever enough, a bit of blood, the ungentle allure of the forbidden – 

is it ever enough, lips parted, eyes closed, breathing it, drowning in it –

is it ever enough, cutting against the grain instead of with it, as if the welling of need can be stemmed by nipping at the heels, chasing tail instead of heart?

I don't think it is. 


May I suggest – this is best listened to alone.

D'jaevle, Raw

a poem, like a cage

But I am patient, and I understand something fundamental about the dichotomy of your role. It's not me your fighting. It's the coiled desire you keep so tightly in check, the sliver of need I've awoken.

It is surrendering to your desire you fight against.

And my firm grip, my gaze as it watches you, my words that detail the way I will lay you out as a feast, the knowledge I will follow through, despite your own fears – these are just the first steps.


'Don't Feed the Words' said the sign.

D'jaevle, Signs

favored by the sinners

   You are faith,
        favored by the sinners
        forgiven but not forgotten
        first to be filled
               to flinch.

     in silence
     in stillness

     you belong here.

Happy new year, children.

I am off to the city of sin, to enjoy a week of decadence.

Here, a small gift.


D'jaevle, Grail

the lost children


I prefer the greedy girls
    the lost children
        who have forgotten not
           how to play
              or pray
                           they have
                                  but they're good at pretending otherwise


Sometimes I see my words as sharp, covered in jagged edges, a sweet, warm and jagged pill. 

D'jaevle, Unfinished