"She was an
unusual dresser.
Every night,
she wore bruises
on her heart,
love on her lips,
pain in her eyes,
and ink on her fingers.
They called her poetry."

If I admitted, that you still hostage my love
Now if I admitted, would I turn into the one that you want

No, this is something I doubt

If I released, all of my inner thoughts
Yeah, if I told you, it was you I picked out

No, I doubt, that that'd be enough

If you were to come home, with a smile on your face
Oh Kali, please come home, another day I can't take

..."No, I love you more from far away."

"I love you more -"

"Like I said, from far away."

consistent contradictions
gambling away my
happiness to the gods,
or the devils,
i can never tell which
i can never tell which
witches are good
and which ones are bad
and i'm on the edge of
glory and humiliation.
consistent contradictions
of a woman whose heart
is not in her body but
within another's, whose
home is june and whose
jail is the present
presently prosecuting
my own **** fingers
for falling and failing
and fumbling for the
light switch
for faltering and
sweltering in the heat
of heaven or hell
i can never tell which.
i can never
tell
which.

─illustrations on the ceiling

i love the way
the sunlight ripples along his skin
with no complaints

"messiah"* the shadow talks
"of course he is"* i reply
and i resume to orchestrating my love

─little phobias

i wander aimlessly along his windows,
his eyes;
they are gates to afterlives unloved;
they are oceanic shrapnel
sky imprisoned infinities
a lapis point of view-
that i treasure

his heart is drenched
in my soul-
in a sweeter sickness-
in the liquid measure of my steps-
he mentions i'm contagious

i tell him he is my favorite way
to bleed

"september prodigy" the shadow babbles
"why?" i rasp
"sun at long last
kisses away
all the ghosts
harvesting from
the heart of the moon"
and i broke out into stars

─my serendipity

i love the raw
music of our conversations,
and how his voice
undresses me
and my monsters
so delicately
in fabrics of the dark

i love how his laugh
makes all the other planets
look dull;
how his smile
is the first step
to curing the blind

so the blind may know
what i know

"the symphony of seams"

i love how he is the shocking
philosophy
of turning suicide notes
into paper cranes

of picking fights with death
so i may remain

i love the phoenix tucked in his soul
how it defines-
the altitudes-
the limits-
our existence he describes to me

"reincarnation?" the shadow asks
"every morning he wonders" i answer
and the fever invests it's time in me

"what is he to you?" the shadow murmurs

"besides broken flowers,
and ink blots shaped like rain
he is my favorite stairway to heaven."

I dreamt of you the other day

Such sweet resonance with your presence, it echoed a calm I only experience with you; awoken, and sound

You caught me in a time of plight, pulled me forth in valiant fervor

Your smile shined upon me, and I felt safe; feverishly exposing your excitement to explore the horizon

We drove into the fog; your warmth was tangible, even in my subconscious dwelling

Next to you, I simply felt good; a place I can not substitute

I felt calm, as if all qualms and scores of darkness simply melted away; you seemed happier than I had ever seen when I had not declined your beckoning

I felt home, and you seemed content to feel the same with me by you

If ever that could be true when I awake for this, life would forever be a dream

I dreamt for peace, and you were there; simplicity, two threads cut from the same cloth, bound together

I hope to bring you the same light