fragile petunia,
does it hurt when they step on you?
gentle iridescence crushed underfoot
the silent tragedy of everyday
lovely petunia,
do you dance to the wind's caress?
or must your petals break and scatter
diffuse notes of elegy
humble petunia,
but you're not humble, are you?
was it worth it, in the end
to stake your life on fleeting color?
The fern waits all day beside the river.
A mossy green with the feel of dry leather, a supple spine without the flourishes...
And it will never know love.
And it will never know adoration.
And it waits and waits and bids the wind goodnight every morning.
And it bends beyond itself without a whisper of complaint.
And it rambles with the river in the same benign discourse.
And it sits in peace as distant petals shatter on the breeze.
And it envies nothing, sightless from the quiet shade of ignorance.
And it will never know its own suffering;
It will never know the elation of touch.
Who shall pluck these diffident flowers?
Beauty always comes with a price
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 2:00 AM UTC
Trembling. Soft hits as you play with the tension
Open door surrender, I quiver
Question. Are you there?
Lost in forever, unsaid answer
Last supper hued in memory, synecdoche of candles
Hand in hand to fall asleep
Fallback guarantees I called denial
My bed so perfectly arranged
“Hey, it’s kinda cold in here” susceptible flesh, distant bone. Red strings, pink cloth, the stoic blackness all round. All-you-can-eat-buffets won’t give you peace but something to ***** is better than nothing. Ideal collisions, my straight lines and low pressures – Passion ruins all my plans. I throw your cliches out in a bouquet and keep them as a razor. Sentimental. Waiting for something to happen. Smooth flick speechless. Indefinite time and the chores undone. But it’s all so simple?! Walking in circles around the word, I-you relation, relatively. Little by little I believe ourselves in the face of what? ‘Nothing’ is stopping us. So I drop my act, you touch my skin, I call you to sea, you dance in my living water. Evanescence in pearly bloom.
And then – then the meow of a startled cat, mice scurrying to the gutters, all at once the little ants bury themselves alive, life repels life.
I love you to pieces and can’t put them together
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 5:09 AM UTC
ropes & threads
nooses & lines
08/09/2023 & elation in a small courtyard
skin & bone
scent & exhale
your touch & maybe love, hesitant imprint
joy & passion
silence & silence
the waves & the wind, remains of my ardor
i'll cut them all to stay in control
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 9:21 PM UTC
if the words were real
and leapt off the line?
because you're skilled, or
because you have nothing else?
if they only lied to save your feelings?
if all it took were imagination?
if light weighed more than a thousand bricks?
Upon the pier, the wind and absence
gazing out, darkening all into an empty
canvas or pond, canvas or chasm,
either way it's too cold to stand
Even stars bend from pressing distance
but eyes can capture what hands only touch
if he truly believed,
the waves would hunger yet
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 12:02 AM UTC
a little touch, melting
as all good things, remembered
only as sensation:
the walls and the floor stir on and on
to dissolve without melting, a small (aq) at the side
but to release? too much and too little held
too little to hold, a useless spoon
it drips into a stillborn flow
I serve my everything on a table:
gateaux and layers, any more than bread
you have to take something, there’s no nothing to refuse
you can’t be refusal, even that is served
you can’t be full, you need to be hungry
you can’t be nothing,
please don’t be nothing
I lie when I say I want you free,
In a cage, maybe,
dissolute in my precious vial
no, melting is different
I want solid things! I only complain about my state because I’m secure in it!
and there’s no significance to early Thursday breakfasts which I didn’t fold in myself
I miss the sugar you gave to my batter;
it’s cloying when I do it,
I missed Thursday and now it’s Friday
but I still want Thursday till Friday curdles
lined in rows of half-empty cups
the unrisen mix of every lost morning:
flour & water, basic lifeblood,
glutinous river molding
the great mound of delicacy:
things burn left in the oven too long, even sugar
especially sugar
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 10:30 PM UTC
how much is too moved?
more than a light year
and less than an inch
you can't grasp it either way
but isn't it easy
to imagine?
how much is not enough?
i guess as much as i don't have
which is enough to hold on to
easier said
than done
how much is lost forever?
i don't want to say
i just want you to hold me
and comfort me
like another stone in my pocket
(it looks better outside when it's raining)
and as the day pours down
i ache for all that we have lost
Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 3:11 AM UTC
simple things are all it takes
to tie my heart in knots of devotion
for i'm a simple girl
with simple wants:
to feel loved
no
to feel loveable
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 9:37 AM UTC
silent night, holy night
free me from your brutal grip,
truthful grip, oh how I am falling
falling
falling
falling
falling
falling
to the wake of reality
time is a wave
pillow is depravity undeserved:
my head should rest in dreams alone
for races condemned to three hundred minutes of solitude do not have a second opportunity in past days
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I the stars are few tonight I Q. window window on the wall I I less for want of light I who's the weakest of them all? I
I than for having fled I A. see for yourself I
I the burden of being witnessed I Q. why can't you show me what I I i too would dim I want to see? I I if it meant no one I A. 0 I I could name my sorrow I Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q. I
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I
it shrouds me
this pale view of distances un-X-X-bridge-X-X-able
this nocturnal solo elegy ave falsus corpum
it brings me ever closer to death
my gentle repose
but do not pity me
even the darkening star burns
and the softest tremor in the chest
means i'm still reaching for something > 0
even if i call it sleep
so let me rest,
unmourned, remembered
for that dismal resilience;
bleak survival
through the depths of night
for one stanza longer
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 4:50 AM UTC
In the blanketing abyss of night's prelude
no lamp subdues the dark within
but rather set a hazy stage:
lucidity's awakened hour
Dimly and diffuse you blur
through my drifting lines of sentience
reaping your cruel harvest, slyly
scattering my germinal love
How grim this fate that you have cast
upon my hopes so premature:
aborted at 3 weeks
more loss than I can take
enough for me to bury
enough for my resentment
burning unrealised:
fire of my nascent eyes
piercing through the false eclipse
scorching your covert disguise
the veil I long to rip apart
and disintegrate with verity,
to spit upon with love's acid froth
crude as every image of you
...
crude as dispossessed illusions
For I know you no longer,
and grasp for silent solace:
I can still turn the lights off by myself
by myself
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 6:36 PM UTC
the beauty, the resolute stillness of night
and the absence of a day's wreckage, too
is no consolation for that greater hollow
which yet darkens my countenance
and voids my soul
but in the aches of time, all shall emerge complete
if unfilled then at least whole —
holy, even — under better eyes than mine
more open eyes than mine, heavy under insomnia
so, in passing with the moon,
that complete and empty dawn will arrive by a close of the eyes, a gentle descent to sleep
which is why it cannot come so easily,
lest the waking day illume my solitude
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 5:38 AM UTC