K.J. Johnson


Bred in the shadows of a blood-soaked legacy,

My innocence a fleeting notion,

Never within my grasp,

Thieves with badges snatch it away,

Peeling away my nails,

And a chance of happiness,

A brewing, boiling power grows within me,

Spewing fire and rage through my pores,

Fear and anxiety stoking the flames,

Flesh-tearing fangs and a blood-splattered face,

Reflected in a child’s image,

Awaiting the chance to escape,

Cerebral captivity,

And shed the body count of their making.

Work in Progress

Work in Progress

K.J. Johnson


Spellbound in a mist of resentment,

Elderly echoes reminding me,

This would never be easy,

To exit would be to succumb to weakness,

Exhaustion laces and weaves itself into my bones,

Aching to recede into solitary satisfaction,

Though the single, remaining ounce of longing,

Keeps me locked in place,

Sifting forgiveness through heaping piles of betrayal,

Slowly falling in love again,

No longer seeing your many indiscretions,

Reflected in your apologetic eyes,

Choosing you over easy,

Choosing to stay.



K.J. Johnson


My lips are sticky from sloppy kisses,

Stained with lip balm,

Inhaling your harsh vapors,

Middle finger waving high and proud,

While my pride and inhibitions,

Become fleeting reminders of when this game,

Made sense, when I was in control,

Of my actions, immune to the bite of your tequila touch,

The silky smooth stroke of your rum,

And the blunt reality of your whisky mouth,

Setting my throat ablaze,

My eyelids droop under your influence,

Shakily strolling on a tightrope miles above,

My common sense, yet inches from your grasp,

Struggling to walk straight,

Inevitably giving in and,

Awaiting the next round.

The Sponge

The Sponge

K.J. Johnson


A tumultuous classroom,

Overturned desks and broken chairs,

A childhood, surrounded by crumbling walls,

Constant ringing in my ears,

Soothed only by raised voices and confrontation,

Tainted lessons of relationships bred from dysfunction,

Right and wrong delivered in reverse,

Mistakes and short-comings met with bruises,

Growing pains they say,

Seeking distractions from toys and television shows,

That could never understand,

The perpetually fresh wounds of my every day,

I tell you this not for sympathy,

Seeking no amount of consolation,

For when you wring me out,

Watching my scars, tears and blood shower the floor,

Your questions have already been answered.



K.J. Johnson


How does it feel?

To know that you dominate my thought process,

Spinning your web,

Orchestrating my every move,

A tactician placed in my path,

With the sole purpose of control,

The thrill replaces my blood and air,

Spiraling into a realm of sensation and nothing else,

Nerve endings singing to the rhythm of your choice,

I withstand the most daunting trials,

To bask in the rations of your lust,

A reward as simplistic as it is satisfying.

Cast Out

Cast Out

K.J. Johnson


A room teeming with eyes rolled into vacuous heads,

Egg shells crunch under my cautious steps,

Upturned noses and broad backs greet me,

With a hypnotic lure, pulling me to the exit,

Bewildered by intense isolation amongst a crowd,

Of ghosts floating in my peripheral,

Faces blur, pushing me to question my sanity,

My need to belong,

Short of breath as they press me,

Against the cold wall,

Biting fresh goosebumps, rivaling the violent chills,

In my bones, will they break?

Battling demons of introversion,

The catalyst to my arrival,

All to be chained to my shadow,

Trapped in coerced solitude.

The Surgeon

The Surgeon

 K.J. Johnson


 Blinding white lights burn my eyes,

Intense from a raging passion in your aura,

Your masterful fingers run along your collection,

Of smooth and serrated edges,

 Choosing an instrument suited for reaching my soul,

You tell me to count backwards,

Focus on the arousing movement of your lips,

While your signature scent sedates me,

Lulling me into a peaceful surrender,

Precision and skill guide,

The carving of your name on my heart,

No space for future edits,

Mark your territory,

Let them know it’s yours.