He’s the space man, and he’s out of this world
Planets **** about his waist, fingertips warm.
On Sunday he blitzes the Milky Way
like a silver bullet, its the crazy guy holding the gun. Not me. For he's
like a star just born. His fingertips warm
treading lightly through the maze
of light and creation.
A keen look in his curling smile, he
leaps to catch the morning's first flight
on the climbing glimmers of a shooting star,
that so shimmers against the warm Spring nights.
The sunken sun, resting below
his feet, his body stands alone.
Wrapped in a pink and yellow glow,
he sets out on the voyage home
to the furthest reaches, the universe edge
where vast forests creep in the dust and smoke,
he waits,
in silence
he waits,
for Monday
when he's reborn. His fingertips warm.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 8:00 PM UTC
The night is here,
a deeper hue.
I'm in your veins,
my host is you.
The forests howl
and seep into
your lungs to me,
my host is you.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
Cool white sheets. Blue
sunshine filtering through
my hand learning your skin.
Dreaming of angels.
Empty shadows on
quiet streets.
The city breathes in,
grass blades quiver.
A drumming echo.
The hasty steps of
belatedness.
I shift my hand.
The faucets, dripping.
The sunrise pulling
your skin into alps,
but you’re not cold.
A high-rise drips its
concrete breath.
The sky breaks.
Exhale and return.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
Perched on the wooden beams we would eye
the morning rain choke on the sun rays rising.
But the wind made you shudder and
with the birds I could only watch
as your goosebumps scaled the melting sky.
And it was like Time itself, or was it more like the sea?
Hunched over, your fists held your chin.
And it was like an orchid, or was it like a child, weeping?
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
I exist as a mirror
Wild lights have glazed over your skin
My whispers are tarnished
Our bodies a shield
Against the coming chills of a brittle wind
I linger with a breeze-like touch,
It comes out hoarse and swollen.
Thoughts uttered with a breath of regret
Or a sigh of relief.
Your face turns foreign, a mesh of dark warmth
A light without the sun.
We’re all a wounded red
on the inside.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
The bath water
is the colour of my eyes;
yet, I don't know
which is wetter.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
Daisies blitz my watercolour skin,
dripping to the ocean floor.
Sunday's catch a northeast wind,
my watercolour skin, a liquor store.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
My heart is weeping in a million pieces
and I don’t think even your breath could
stop my rage; at least
not like the last time.
And there are some nights where it feels like
I just can’t stop crying.
Even when there are no tears,
I just can’t stop crying and giving
my heart out to every single breathing thing.
The Earth is groaning just to the left of my lungs
and your eyes cannot halt the earthquakes of my fingers.
I’m just so ******* lonely that it breaks
my ******* heart to see myself
sleeping so alone.
And yet,
the deluge that my eyes pour forth to flood,
won’t drown the fact that you’re in my blood.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
You are a child of the Universe.
The pith of your heart and the atoms in your skin
have existed since the beginning of time.
You have an unquestionable right to live.
You are integral and vital.
Your steps grace the Earth with your presence just as,
the Earth graces your feet with its presence when you walk.
Your identity is a facet of humanity just as,
your body is a temporary expression of the Universe.
You can never truly die.
When you choose to accept this,
you may dwell in radiance.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
There is poetry in your eyes;
the call of spring rests on your teeth.
When thieving lovers punch and prise,
in generosity you bequeath,
a piece of you in evergreen,
a piece that leaves you incomplete.
How vulnerable and bare you seem,
and your lips taste of defeat.
[it's 9:28pm and the moon is sending me tremors and I'm
burning but nothing makes me shiver as much as your]
Eyes steeped in beauty agleam,
as lilacs bloom around your feet.
How vulnerable and bare you seem,
your lips taste soft and sweet.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC