i'm a hyphenated pause
between sheets
of crumpled paper
a chance to catch
a deep breath
between dang'rous thoughts
i'm just a dash
between restless gasps
the caesura between broken sighs
when i cease to be
the conjunction between
then and forever
will be bridged
in-between, interrupted
by a spurious line
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
love springs forth like fire
crawling up the oak's strong boughs
burning it all down
--
枝に沿う
火のような愛
樫燃える
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
lust.
No. Lust...
That need which cravenly capitalizes upon itself.
Covet -- lust. Hunger -- lust. Adult -- lust. Blood -- lust.
My eyes are burning red
and I cannot see the forest for the
bruised
beautiful
******
bare
branches.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
I remember when we met —
wait, no I don’t, but I remember after —
weaving back and forth like Ariadne’s needle,
swift of stumbling foot and pulled chest-first
down into the dank recesses of an
unwashed, reeking train station.
My friend had puked his guts out
just before I’d left;
he’d danced with you two hours prior, too.
I felt so sad for him.
He didn’t know what it felt like
to have love grow like mold in your heart.
A soft velvet that covers
and breathes and lives and smothers.
I don’t remember the first thing
about when we met.
But I remember knowing that —
Even though I hadn’t yet learned your
secret fears or aspirations, not then,
maybe not even now, maybe I’m
mistaking intimacy for honesty —
Anyways, these words are
a reverberating bullet in my skull,
and they’ve been bouncing ever since
your soft voice first set my tympanum afire.
A thought I had thought I would never ever think.
“I think things are going to turn out
just right this time.”
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
a day flies by and whiles away
drawing lies and smiles alike
like filings to the lodestone
babies' cries flay the sky
sunlight bright in my right eye
shining in dulcimer tone
in this park no broken tiles
just mild breezes, soft sighs, and ample time
to delight in Spring coming into its own
a wild-eyed man asks why we try
and rightly plies for answers nigh
and questions what we think is known
and waits impatient as we fry
in blind stupor as our minds belie
that we might in fact be all alone
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
Watch the diaspora disappearing
whispers growing fainter hard of hearing
lights are growing dimmer by the minute
soon you’ll be alone so revel in it
and stand upon the tall grass wet with dew
the sun thrice-filtered breaking through the trees
and stand upon the tall grass wet with dew
to hear the solemn secret-catching breeze
So when your paper mem'ry starts to tear
all those unwritten dreams will fly away
As you watch the diaspora disappear
silence gently holds you as you sway
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
Although denied the truth he'd sought so long,
the soldier gave his gun and sang his song:
"Despondency is not my trade, nor should
it steal my breath away; all that I could,
I'd show 'em all my strength, oh yes I would!
"Now take this gun, prepare yourself to fight.
Now take this blade, to shine against the night.
Now grit your teeth, good sir, now fix your sight --
the trench may be the death of me, but **
Eyes on the horizon, now, stand and go!"
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
They say I suffer from retrograde cash flow
and it is afflicting me with anterograde anxiety
so they let me go
bleeding money from every pore
leaving a red paper trail behind me
A memetic virus of unprecedented scale
has everyone pale and empty-pocketed
their haunted eyes reflecting
the fear of an exofiduciary reaction
The resultant melancholy
proves infectious.
My sad-sack coworkers,
drained from the same numismatic disease
seek alternative medicine
but I am hooked on the slow copper drip
and wait patiently for the bag to empty before
I even realize I should have
seen another doctor
before
my internet support's been pulled.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 11:20 PM UTC
the law of large numbers states that
for every action you take
a nearly infinite number of actions remain unfulfilled.
it would take until the heat death of the universe
to uncover all the ways
that you have failed to live up to your potential.
when your mind is choked with regrets,
late at night, wandering your unlit halls,
you are still stuck in contemplation
of less than one hundredth of one tenth of one percent
and of how much more beautiful your life could have been.
i am sorry. you are wrong.
you are the best choice of all possible worlds
because you are the only one
that decided to exist.
out of all the millions and billions and trillions of possibilities.
yours is the only course that coalesced into reality.
the only choice that matters.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
The world was closing in
like rough waters overhead.
And as the pressure rose
my heartbeat told me this:
every last gasp is worth fighting for.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC