using this medium to scrap
what i’m not willing to carry today

unduly honor-bound

this has become strained
at the edges of my peripheral,
warping into a mirage of heat lines

and yet remains
wholly under my thumb
for now

TEEMING

how do you expect me to keep this up?

if
i am what i think about all day
and
i am what i do
then

come take my hand
because if He’s not here
then where?

despite my belief in such nonsense,
this could be a sign

all i need to do is allow my self
to step back and absorb
the scale

and admit to myself that
i’m terrified of
the Consequences

I easily confuse your ****** shrapnel with beauty.

When hearing the symmetry in the voice of gods.

That sweet balance of indirect proportionality.

Like sloshing foam trapped in an equilateral cradle.

Your lies always calming me into the ease of this chaos.

All these nights spent in this parking lot.
(You’d don’t know: I’ve been here before)

But now having tasted it, I can’t comprehend how to push back the veil.

And finally getting what I asked for, I can’t take the weight.

This reality sends me begging.
Cowaring in the corner.
Choking on all the variables.

Reneging for my well-worn cross.

nestled comfortably amongst the murk of my blanket        (statements)

she’s slowly extruding lies and melting into
myself         (assessment)

dripping, as it trickles down
oozing from your swollen
leaky *******:

squelching the flames of my
passion         (project)

desires left smoldering as i sup
upon the thick
and pitiless black smoke pouring
from somewhere inside

feeling ashamed of how
i must look this does
not relent
the maelstrom of
aspersions  cast by my
tongue         (bath)

on all that pass here without a second glance

No one bleeds like you
And you’ll never understand.
******* narcissist.

On days like today:
Cold and hard
I hit snooze too many times
To stay in bed for another round
Of thinking
Listening
Praying
Any you,
Glinting through soggy eyes,
Begging for hope,
While pulling the wings off your only chance to find it
Even though your love’s bound in tragedy
You can surely find a way to see it...
Try running your fingers along the voluptuous curves of its symmetry

Without digging your nails in

Or do...
I know I love it

And don’t forget to look for me, my lover

I’ll be the one with broken knees
That you’ll have to circle back for
At the End

Here I am.

Again.

A subject almost too fossilized to write about
If I’ve strained every morsel of poesy from this experience then,
why do I keep living it?

Choice?

I am able to feign perennial gratitude for my salvation
For one brief moment
Before I’m willing to sell every stitch of my being for one last
glimpse
of synthesized rapture