The bridge between hell and home
its long, and always has no sun
the hell of looking down and the wind
the gravity pulls your gaze
there is a liar in the calm sounds
of the waves calling me to come to bed

Knock knock.
I heard it in my sleep,
in my head,
I heard the knocking
between the weather change,
between the fleeting cold mornings
and the calm of the sun on my afternoon skin.
I heard the knock of it all coming together,
the season, waking me from the nightmare.

I looked in your eyes and they were moonlight,
piercing the darkness, unlike sunshine, unlike
the burning you feel when you get too close to something
fake. I looked into your moonlight eyes and I saw pools
of blue cascading like a waterfall over crystal, distorted shimmer.
It wasn't even like looking at eyes, it was just looking into something
I wanted to steal and lock away, in a corner of my closet
where no light could scratch.

Its hard sometimes
to feel the lust.
To feel the genuine gaze of longing
from eyes that see passed flesh ripping pulls
and grasping fingers. Your nails
leave trails along thighs that disappear
into the hairs. Like rivers on a map
where streams are crossing
violently and parallel.

I want to break the tiny bones
in my fingers and crunch my hands
into crumples of blood and skin.
I want to break all of my possessions,
I want to shatter glass and crunch it
into tiny shards with my palms.
I want to cause a collision,
to run my car into another,
to watch matter bend and implode.
I want to hear the echo of inconvenience,
to discomfort and dishearten.
I want to set the world on fire
and to reciprocate the feeling of contempt
I hold with a tight grip.

In a winter reflection, through a cage of ice,
I watch a shadow of myself love you.
From a sunken place, I’m stuck,
Endlessly pacing within my head,
I’m stuck, a lonely, hungry tiger.
The coldness fills me slowly
as I watch you from my prison.
The bars to my cage pretend to bend,
but it is only a trick of the sun.
I refuse to leave the cage
even though I have the key,
for safety
for sanity
for selfishness
I swallow the key often.
The cage will melt eventually
so I will wait until then,
It is hard to hate for so long
in conditions like this
where every day the water freezes
and unfreezes and freezes.
It is hard to hate when her hands melt the ice.
Love freezes the pain and drips away everything else
Into the gutter, but the sun always falls, still.

Why does the moon hum a warm tint
in the darkest, coldest, empty night?

The frosty walk home is lonelier with its glow.
I am devoured by the cold and the lack of sound.

My exhale, like a ghost, tries to find a way home also.