sometimes i see these flashes
and they repeat themselves
a supercut of us
you’re lying there
still.
your feet warm
and i almost reach out for you
and i almost lose you
again.
what is it
you were saying
i catch the hoarseness
in your voice
out of this
nothingness.
a void
i pass my hand through
and it takes me back to
you,
you
again.
now you’re out of my bed
soft glowy being
i sigh
lost
lost inside you again.
your fingers
icy cold now
the cold burns through me
you’re going now
you went
away.
this coldness i feel
skin deep
purging my soul
pills foam at my mouth
i see your eyes
irises dark
knees collapsing
i bow down to you
my insides aching for you
you reach out for me
at last
two hands
soft
i feel alive in death
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC
As I lie here
Matching my breath to yours
Sun kisses the horizon
The night melts into the wee hours of dawn
A perfect symphony of our breathing
There’s something pregnant in this silence
that looms over our beings
A gentle reminder of all the years
There are days when years of anguish uncurls into a breath of sigh
This is one of them
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 3:51 AM UTC
'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
train tracks always meet, not here, but only
in the impossible mind's eye;
horizons beat a retreat as we embark
on sophist seas to overtake that mark
where wave pretends to drench real sky.'
'Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's devil is another's god
or that the solar spectrum is
a multitude of shaded grays; suspense
on the quicksands of ambivalence
is our life's whole nemesis.
So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
implacably from twelve to one.
We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
who insists his playmates run.
Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
should inflame the sleeping town.
So kiss: the drunks upon the curb and dames
in dubious doorways forget their monday names,
caper with candles in their heads;
the leaves applaud, and santa claus flies in
scattering candy from a zeppelin,
playing his prodigal charades.
The moon leans down to took; the tilting fish
in the rare river wink and laugh; we lavish
blessings right and left and cry
hello, and then hello again in deaf
churchyard ears until the starlit stiff
graves all carol in reply.
Now kiss again: till our strict father leans
to call for curtain on our thousand scenes;
brazen actors mock at him,
multiply pink harlequins and sing
in gay ventriloquy from wing to wing
while footlights flare and houselights dim.
Tell now, we taunq where black or white begins
and separate the flutes from violins:
the algebra of absolutes
explodes in a kaleidoscope of shapes
that jar, while each polemic jackanapes
joins his enemies' recruits.
The paradox is that 'the play's the thing':
though prima donna pouts and critic stings,
there burns throughout the line of words,
the cultivated act, a fierce brief fusion
which dreamers call real, and realists, illusion:
an insight like the flight of birds:
Arrows that lacerate the sky, while knowing
the secret of their ecstasy's in going;
some day, moving, one will drop,
and, dropping, die, to trace a wound that heals
only to reopen as flesh congeals:
cycling phoenix never stops.
So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
away our rationed days and weeks.
Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
the simple sum of heart plus heart.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
And I hold an ocean full of you
inside of me
swimming too deep
can barely breath
stuck in your melody
all day/night on repeat
I find you at a place
where feelings outweigh reasons
and words fall short
where the heart only knows
what it seeks
The sunset in all its glory
You.
Me.
There.
all the orange outside the lines
splayed on the faces
Yours and mine
And when the dying star breathes its last peace
I look into your eyes and see me.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
They’ll check your wrists,
But not your thighs,
They’ll check your smile,
But not your eyes
They’ll avoid the truth,
Believe the lies,
Nothing to sooth,
No reason to cry,
Our smiles are bright,
Eyes are a bit dull,
Wrists are clean despite,
The blade with an emotional pull,
And we’re emotionally unstable,
But they say that’s okay,
We are all a bit of a riddle,
But that’s the only thing we can convey,
And the world will open to swallow us up,
But that’s okay, at least our habits remain,
And when their arms finally open up,
We will show them the reflection they taught us to shame,
So we paint a smile with the color of red,
From the thighs they didn’t check,
And from our eyes we bled.
And they'll only understand,
When the noose hold us by our necks,
And if they had thought twice,
Maybe our eyes they would have checked.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
Fall last year
I saw the warm glow
spread on your cheeks
like a shooting star
across a starless night
My fingers run through
the chestnut halo
splayed on my lap
Cocooned by serenity
under the veil of a pregnant hush
I close my eyes
consumed by fullness
and you.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC