To my lover, that she might escapeI've held you here, close in-betweenmy knuckles, so bruised with mutemutiny, they beat at the thighs and the ribs of mewe can pretend that we're lovers, notdrowning together to gatherlove scraped from under nailsor concrete halls, frompainted walls beneathhigh-way-gray ships of the sea,that are skies that are meant to beburning with passion and puritybut wreck the horizon with infantile agonyand sails to the endless, oh, anywhere at allI'm sorry, this placewill get the best of us yet
Beach Poemthe sunthe silver crowsmy hearta pair of ragged clawsthe wavesthe dunesdesire
On forgettingThe worst part isthe books that are unwritten as you speakthe letters writhe themselves off paperfly off like carrion birds,drown themselves in inkwellsAnd our conversations fadeinto meaningless noisethe syllables force themselvesdown your throatand mineand have no longer been spokenstaticI am forcing your bodyinto air, a ghostseen in some crowd
A meditationi will reachlike a breatha body
Letter to a former loverI wrote you lettersof these hollow woods,perhaps your tongue was tiedor planing out your teeth with supple motionlicking forth a better smilea brighter future, at leastyou never answered or gave wordthat you had seen the fog ridingfrom beneath the trees on grey stallionsor that the woods themselves wereleaning out and giving way andturning grey, mist breedinghollow spines on brittle branches.
On farewellsIt is not that your handsare not here to be held, but thatthey are pointing over hills I cannot crossto seas that are salt with excitementjust asthe trees do not grieve the passing of the leaves,except that they are over the horizon.
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-believing shecould only hurtanyone who gottoo close,forgetting thatinside,she held whatpeople neededmost.
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,Be it my pride or dignity.You may throw insults at me,And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.You may belittle me, as much as you want,If only to make your meager life worth living.---But even if you do all that...---No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place..."Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:"What is it that you find life to be worth living?"Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,And yet you lie awake.Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,And genuinely fear for your safety?Now, if you were me that you had asked my dear,I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
collisionsi.it is dark, unfamiliar,but your fingers seek out his,and you know thenthat you are at homein his harmonyeven if justfor now.ii.hold him;he's incendiary, sure.a veritable (volatile)molotov cocktail ofnot-okaywatch as he emerges,ashen-limbed from a cocoon of youto entwine with the threadsthat hold you sane.iii.smoldering indolentcoal-flicker eyelidswant nothing more thanto hiss and steam;than to coolin your stillnessiv.redolent of broken-record risk-taking chances untilthere's nothing leftbut scratches and glitches in the wordworki mean woodwork,i mean, skin.but oh god, he loves youjust like this,like that,this way.v.this is a choice:you may destroy him,extinguish his flamesand half-bury him inthe ashy remnantsof his own conflagration but it's an impotent powerthat is granted, not taken.
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your souland if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybarsin this old and rusted parkyou can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to youif i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love youand i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my lifeor what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
Hopeful HeartThe sky is pitch blackAnd so is my heartAfter all the painI went throughAfter all the effortFor a lost causeSo I look upLooking for a starA ray of lightTo guide me awayAway from this darkness inside my heart
poemI wish you were easyeasy to forgetor to lend a handI wish your eyes had not pierced me(like x-rays)like x-rays, yes, and tumorousis what this love is, draining mecancerously into poetry