The fever took her - quietly, suddenly.  
One moment she was lying still,
the next her blood had been boiled and her hair was burning
so that there was a constant glow about her face.

In moments like these,
where her body and her brain were two separate entities,
she could think only of the way her skin joined
in perfect harmony
behind her ears.

Sing to me.

Even if your voice is raspy,

And you can not sing,

Love me enough to sing to me,

In the dark,

As you take my hand,

And lead me into your arms.

Sing to me your favorite song,

Or of the fears that plagued you when you were young.

I will memorize the melody,

As I listen to the vibrations,

That your vocal chords conjure up,

As I lean my head against your chest.

Let your insecurities lay at my feet,

And sing to me.

And if you can’t bring yourself to do so,

I’m willing to listen to you hum.

you told me I could tell you anything.

and from my tongue slipped chaos.

broken consonants, faulty vowels, damaged syllables.

from my heart slipped shattered feelings that cradled every word that was to be delivered to your sensitive ears.

I spoke unto you everything that was hidden.

I brought them back to life and served them to you on a platter so silver you can see my innocence fading from your eyes looking back at you as you stared in it.

and from my soul slipped trust.

and into your hands it entered.

and then I was safe.

you may not have understood.

but you listened.

and that was more than I could do for myself.

nights take passion forth
into an abyss
of hundreds of arms
swirling under the weight of
bodies yearning
to connect

your destruction came
in moments, you fell beneath them
and growled, you were
the rabid beast
hiding in my closet
or behind my bathroom door
waiting to spring,

and you and i,
we fell for each other
like children, we fumble in the dark
like teenagers, we talk through every movement
like we've known this dance for years, years, years;

my hands, they're too small
to spread over your heart
like i want them to.
your hands, far too big
to cradle my face between them
like you meant them to.

we make it work
in the darkest of ways,
the black hole in the floor
of our bedroom
opening up
to swallow us
whole.

i don’t want to love you
anymore
i’d rather love books
and words
and the sea
when it rages
i’d rather love
adventure and
late nights
filled with smiles

i don’t want to hide
anymore
i’d rather fly
to a far away mountain
and scream
at the top of
a blue peak
i’d rather explode
with virtue
like a light—
a star
who has met
it’s end

i don’t want to love you
anymore
i don’t want
the sun to fall
i don’t want
my coffee to go cold
or my cigarettes
to wage war
on my lungs
but there’s little to do
when the universe
twists
in it’s inevitable ways

x.

understand that nothing is real.

**.

search for art in all that you see (for art is present in all things).

***.

art is everything, nothing is real. we are left to conclude that art is nothing, nothing is art, or perhaps everything is nothing-which makes art more real than nothing, because it is in fact something.

xxxx.

when we smoked cigarettes in the alley way during winter, our backs against the cold brick wall; well, darling, that was art.

xxxxx.

you made poems and paintings and songs and dances, but i’d never seen anything more real (or perhaps less real) than the way your eyes looked when they were in love. and that, well that was the truest art there could ever be.

xxxxxx.

understand that your love is everything, and everything is art, but nothing is real, or art is nothing. my words will never quite be right, but your eyes in love were the rightest thing that never existed -(or existed more than anything).

“how do I look today
was it worth holding my hand?”


“darling,
i’m holding the hand
of all of my dreams
you look perfect
don’t doubt a thing”

he spoke in poems
always told her
she was beautiful
dipped her back
parallel to the ground
when he kissed her
like they were always
in a black and white movie
he bought her diamonds
and never let go
while she slept

at the park one day
his hand shook in hers
and he said simply
“darling,
i’m a woman
the operation is tomorrow
if you leave
well, you leave
but my love will never die”

she looked at his beard
and his old green eyes
she decided then
not to let love cry

*“darling,
dont you grieve
tomorrow you’ll look
the same to me
i’m holding the hand
of all my dreams
you’ll look perfect
don’t worry about a thing”

i rope in your lungs
with my fingers,
there is a space
between your bones
and i want to fill it,
pouring in the lines
they told me
before they left me,
one by one,
leaving you
to carry me home

your fingertips,
they are riverbeds --
they are waiting
for the moment
when i can grow gills
and swim with the words
that crowd inside your chest
when you can't find
the right ones
to say

there are stars
tattooed onto the underside
of your stomach, there are
tiny planets swimming
in your blood stream
that i wish i could
dance my fingers through
just to remind you
that there are heavens
stirring in your heart,

this heart,
it chokes with shadow
some nights, but there is
a beacon shining in your bed
that i can't wait to discover,
submerged in the wreckage
our bodies left behind

and someday,
let me stir clouds
into your eardrums
let me breathe life
into the caverns
you've forgotten existed
let me fill your skull
with salmon finding
their way upstream,

you found your way
through the stream
that flows in my wrists,
you kissed the reeds
growing in my blood cells,
and one night, you held
my jaw together
as the sickness threatened
to break through it --
you always knew

how to unlock
the fastenings
in my vertebrae,
the ones who beg
to pull me down.

if somehow
the darkness
in my throat
began to spread,
i know
you would be the first one
pleading
to be dragged
along
with it.

we go together
like standing
in front of the fridge
with a fork in hand
at 1am in the dark
one gulp of milk
straight from the jug
and picking off from
yesterday’s chinese food
that is still cold
and sitting in a to-go box
on the top shelf

it turns autumn and
leaves fall and spin-
nature’s dancers
graceful and neurotic
who seem to make love
to earth
as the inner manifestation
of my every thought
and yearning
naturally,
how could i keep
you off of my mind
my soul did not teach my body
how to **** relentlessly
like the summer heat
All i want to do
is make love to you
swiftly and gently

just as the leaves fall to the ground
i will fall to you
you will fall to me