AThere is birdsong andsun-drenched long limbs,sprawled across India green;wet hair haloes anda restless route scrawledup arms and over hands.There are blueberry smiles,feet upon dashboards,and city-light fireflies...(And,then there is you.Always, always you.)
Sky EyesDesert hands tell talesof a hundred arid summers, butyou are no longer as cloudless as they(there is a stormcreeping through blue, blue veins).But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,that grey cascade blurring againsteyelids and horizons;and suppress her misbegottendroplets, seeping into the soddenground underfootfor there is still sun in your sky eyes.
HazeCatching sunlight;golden silhouettesdrippingwith thetaste of summerlingering,heavy upon lips.
LointainListen carefully, for I am plucking spider-web harp strings in the light of your glistening, rain-sodden breath. There is such beauty in this city, and in symphony, you seeso keep rhythm with these skeleton trees dancing on street sides, winter branches quivering. Can you hear the beat of your heart? Its cadence is being matched by that of the shadows, ephemeral figures waltzing hand-in-hand across cobblestones and twirling at the very cusp of the lamp posts' soft glow... Sway now, my dearest, to the allure of this chorus in the night; to the echoing sound of this moonlit sonata.
Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,serenaded by the waver ofgossamer wings;faces blushing brightas the sunlightslips away.
GhostsNight time musings;hollow-eyed and shallow-breathed,filling the spaces between clouds.Quivering shadow skin
And there are voices in the dark,lost sighs and weight upon whisper;but, we are all whispers here.
O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.Half in love in this half-life half-light;pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreamingof the gods. Wanderer, today I died anddied again, and whispered prayersto clasped hands… until the nestleddroplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;and when moonrise came, I sang again.
Fever DreamsHush now,and close your eyesagainst this vermillion sunset.You feel so much, too much:leave crescent moons on my skin,calm the anguished crimson heatof your own burning heart.This war shall end, my love;but what will you be,if not red?
ApsaraFind me sunken into thelotus field, bathing skin silvergreen,waist-deep and pinkin sunset, and we will cry:for three-faced elephants,for rain,for the dancers threading gracebetween their fingertips—until I dress in the heaviness,a sarong of heat.
SeashineSacred skinwhere heavens and oceancollide,an imprint on salted lungsan echoof aching, ofa moonlit yearning upon therolling tide.
SimbelmyneThere is silence here, uponstale skull tombsthese everminds are stilling...(And yet their tragediesshall endure in the pallor of theflowers in your hands.)
Memoir1.Vert velvet slippersand a mouthful of water –dragonflies flit by.2.Twin evergreen canessupport the elderly bridge;an unsteady crone.3.Citronella flame,illuminating fingers,out-bites mosquitos.
TigressShe is the kind of girl who smothers herself in astronomy,New Age philosophies and coffee shop poetry.All fire and dragon scaled-She hides her tiger stripes behind bruises and ink stains,living her life by way of verse-throwing Hemingway around like insults.Writing her letters to the moon,she hides her heart underneath her own floorboards,folding blank paper birds just to set them free at 3AM.But, it's the lipstick stained collars,the rose thorned fingers,and the dead stars in her chest cavitythat tell her- even a tigress can bleed.
this is about forgettingThis is the thing about forgetting: For weeks you bury your face in the clothes you wore when he was near and the smell is a comfort and a torture. You decide that the torture is not worth the comfort so you leave them draped across the back of a chair and place things on top of them to stop yourself until one day you shove your hands through the pile until your fingers wrap around the fabric and you yank it free only to realize it was pointless. Even his ghost is gone. The next thing that leaves is the way his voice looked in the dark. Those few sentences become blurred and rough around the edges. What you remember drops in your stomach in a different way. You run your fingers over your
TrappedI feel like I'm trappedIn a hole of depressionAnd I can't get outTrappedIn a pit of despairThe only way out..Death..TrappedIn this place people can't seeTauntingTeasingTaintedTrappedFaking a smileA laughJoyFunAll of these things don't come naturally anymoreForcedTrappedI want out of this holeBut the more I dig, the more it caves inCrumblesFalls apartJust like my lifeCavingCrumblingFallingTrappedI just take one step forwardAnd two steps backFalling further and further down this holeI try to explain it to peopleThey don't understandTaunted..Teased..Tainted..Trapped..Trapped..Trapped..Trapped..
MelpomeneHear her sing of sun-kissed,heavy-lidded tragedies that rolloff her tongue as sweetly assugared violets and as naturallyas nightfall; but bruise the lungsof those who breathe them in.She is no poet's muse, butthese summer-drunk revellerswill never know better.
High (First Draft)My Dear,I must confess. I never told you, but I got high once. And once before that.The first time was the day I met you. In that old bookstore we touched fingers among the fiction shelves reaching for a Joyce. An awkward moment made majestic when you laughed. I knew right then and there. This girl is outside my comfort zone. Then you took my hand. As you led me through the aisles, I ran my fingers across the books and prayed inwardly for osmosis to give me the right words to say.And like some Forrest and Jenny escapade, we were off. We took turns riding the rolling ladder across the biography shelves. We encouraged an Asian boy in the self-help aisle. We asked the clerk, "Where in the dickens is Dickens!" He rolled his eyes. So we tipped him. We recited Hemingway for the war history buffs and Geisel for everyone else. We laughed at an old lady, blushing and shivering, leafing through the romance novels. And when she heard us, we blew her kisses. Peas and carrots. Hair an
SolsticeWhen winter beckons with glacial fingersand your deciduous bones are struggling tocling to an evergreen existence,remember me.
Requiem Fall: A slip A decline A loss You have been all these things to me at one point or another. Fall, Did my heart Did my hope Did my home All this for the raking of an autumn kiss. You hold as much of God's divinity in you as does the Angel of Death. Every faltering leaf throughout this &
I Die Forever In Your ArmsForever I die in your arms and die again when you look at me,only within this eternal death can I seek to be free,and always I wander in the shadows of the midnight sun,beneath the metallic sky this journey is only half begun,by killing me softly you have brought me again back life,I weigh the balance on the edge of the sacrificial knifewhile the thunder cracks, overhead I kneel to embrace strife,I meet the Morrigan at her alter before the split tree,death may be found in more ways then one, Mother War holds the gun,lightning strikes, the blade falls and I rise as the Chaos Wife.
the clockwork liari. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.you taught me that the cold could be bitter, and so could people's dreams.you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.but we both ended up laughing hysterically with protruding knives on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would seize.one human, two human
the moon cannot see usthe moon cannot see us,blindly lulling the waters to sleepwith her old hands,like some marvelous god& the earth sways—gracefully turning everything to dust—; the synapses of the universe,alive with creation & the memoriesof countless lost civilizations& everything is ashesbut your hand is warmwe are submerged in life skin & decaythe inferno of you in my hands—is something beautiful
She had never thought of herself as brokenShe had never thought of herself as broken,as missing, as unfinished, as incomplete.She used to think she was complete, accomplished;her flaws hidden, her heart healed and soul varnished.Her Creator had made her independent -she did not need her "other half" to be whole.HoweverWhen he left, a cold hand wrapped around her heart;she ached, trapped under the weight of missing him.She craved his presence, his arms around her waist,his hands in her hair, his eyes locked on to hers.She realized she'd simply been fooling herself -He was her "other half", a 'yin' to her 'yang'.She had never thought of herself as broken,until feeling broken was all she had left.~C♡
I broke up with Coldplay last night.Not because it wasn't cordial or anything no I loved the stuff for a good long while I mean that concert was nice I've got the wristband to prove it only it doesn't glow much now and the thing is I just don'tfeelanything anymore.Yeah I know a lot of people say that and it's mainly just a good excuse for sleazy men in mid-life crises cheating on their wives but I swear I never cheated I just never found the passion but Iwishthat I had.…I've got this stuffed animal on my bed that you didn't even give me but it reminds me of you it's got this bow tie the same shade you wore that one day you accidentally matched my dress and of course it's an elephant and elephants never forget so how comeI keepforgetting.and I used to see guys in shirts and ties and remember how you always let yours work loose by the end of the day and the top left corner would stick out from under your collar until it almost drove me crazy and I had to fix it for you but nowI just keep walking.
I hope you are reading thisthe person I love loves music much too muchand the person I love loves that I love the quiet and easy days loves that I like to stay up late (or early) till the birds sing of morning andthe person I love loves that I love to hold hands and hold a body but only when I know them fullyand the person I love loves listening to my songs and listening to my voice and to my poetry and storiesthe person I love has songs to share too and a voice that melts my heart and words that mold it back into something nostalgia old and inspired newand the person I love loves to look around and take it in once in a while and wonders why we can’t just run away to a secluded place in the forest with a cabin that harbors all of our needs, keeps you and me in a space apart where it rains when we’re sad because we would always be sad together and where the sun is warm on our skin when we are smiling together and laughing together because I made a spectacular pun out of seemingly nothing sp
PixieI never had enough faith in you,my best postmodern pixie friend,who presses herself against my shoulderkilling her fall with leaning.You taught me something newabout anxiety today: how to wakeup when it's morning, how to miss dactylic illness with the parched indelicacy of a crinkled sun. In the eternal rendition you sayyour name is always in the vocative case, and only vocative:says the girlwho taught a smaller girl to sing,a girl of thirteen, with the samenimble character we shared, the samecalderical eyes we shared. The girl's voice tumbles out of its weakness:a chaotic calling out to the deltaic rush of rain, a grimy smoker's howl: monadic, suffering, freshand intimate.
Cerberusthe Gods abandoned youthe day you tore into poetic flesh.slithering serpent, cold blooded-blue blood society reject.you left awkward love bitesalong the edges of these ribs.marked for today,yesterday is mocking you-6 trillion miles away.i spend my forevers countingyour heartbeats with eachintake of breath assomewhere, far offHades has you by the collar,a hungry dogstanding alone in a bone-yard.strange, how even stillwith all your self builtp h i l o s o p h i e syou became one with the earth,devouring it whole with chunksstill stuck in your teeth.
FableMoon cloaksfallen fromshoulders,(and you are)left clad in onlythe softest ofshadows.