Perhaps it is fated,
has it not always seemed so,
that I would be here
you be there
and the trees continue on their terrible voyuerism.

Perhaps it was always meant to be,
the smothered doubt we carry,
the sights we set to see,
but never seem to absorb,
like oil cruising on water.

Perhaps I have it wrong,
this song of mine which plays like a record,
and the record is not broken,
but I play it anyway,
over and over until the taste hangs heavy on my tongue.

Words grow stale like bread,
it doesn't take long.

Perhaps I have been walking in a way that is not walking,
skipping past the important parts,
jumping over the things that matter,
standing still in the dark puddles of my youth,
staring at you from afar.

Perhaps I truly am the villain of this movie,
deluded to think I have a semblance of good,
only to be consumed by the knowledge,
lies,
that I am the toxic entity that has ruined this life of mine.

untasted words leave the lips of the mercury man,
he is slim and sublime,
attenuated to the bridge of his nose,
but his trunk is thick and sturdy

he holds impermeability,
is too still and stubborn for lovers,

mercury man slips through my fingers,
but danger remains.

You ask me
why am I so loud

why does the sound boil
broil and thunder in my chest
rise up like the wave
vibrate in the soiled earth
pull up and out
strands of melancholy
rageful sound falling listlessly
in heavy breaths
why do my eyes widen
as the screams
leave my lips
and the suffocating noise
burns at your ears
why do my hands shake
my knees tremble under my own
inevitable fall, the weight
the heave
the haul
why do I shake so
why do my lips quiver
like the aching strings
of an odious and
thrumming violin
why does my heart pound
so loud
in sync with my voice

and when the sound drops away
and the room falls silent
and the penny drops
with a clatter
that disrupts the tension
why does the quiet fall so easily
and the blame so succinctly
and why does the shaking
stop
and the numbness
cloud over my eyes
and lips
like mists engulfing the
echo of the
waterfalls crash
against hell or high water
the pale flush of the drained noise
of the quiet within the storm
beckoned by the aching lightning that
holds no sound
and only sharp flashes
why do I sit so poised
legs curled elegantly
eyes half lidded as I let
it wash over you
the crusted horses of that
frothing tide
how can I be so serene
when the walls have trembled
in the wake of my
shaking shouts
in the corruption of my
dark and heady
complexion

am I truly there
to speak
or was it only
in the gallows
of my treacherous mind
to dream up such
madness
that I

girl of quiet

could speak up.

the adams apple
bobs
like the water
is sloshing
the sides
and the heads
are slapping
against the
fine surface
that is festival

the red tinge
spreads as smooth
as butter
against the paleness
of your lips
and you smile
that icy
wax drawn
carriage
until your teeth
shine
as pale
as a fireflies
wing.

Carry on
let the hands
unfold
and twist
and turn
dance in the
glade
that holds you tight
and whisks you
like fine
yolk

the fairies
prattle
is unintelligable
but still
as sweet
as the
most brilliant
cake
their burbles
and blooms
and blusters
and blushes
are finite
and magnificent
fodder for your
cannons

for your heart beats

the poem escapes you
and your lips close
and a beat passes
in which the world
halts its turn
and in turn
hauls your
pretty little behind
out of the mess
you caused

don't say
we didn't
hold you
because
our fingerprints
are all
over
your
blushing
stagnant
muscles

twitch,
and the
fairies sing.

She tastes
of clichés
and words
that I
like to
swallow

her cherry
chapstick
lip gloss
that I can
still feel
against me
dried like
blood
against my
subtle skin

she had
breathed hot
in my ear
and I
could still
feel the
heat in
my
undulating
chest

she smelt
of summer
sun
that shone
in my
eyes and
blinded me
but I
got used
to

she let me
hold her
let me
see her
vulnerable
and open

she tasted

so good

static spacial raindrops
interspersed in my gloomsome mind
listen to the press of gravity
feel the natural release
i make music of these moments
and give my best
to my weekday beast

In the business
Of Ending Worlds
I grant
mankind and his children
the curse of
Greed
Envy
Sloth
and,
Guilt.

In the business
Of Preserving Misery
I grant
all who heed me
all who hear me
all who fear me
the singular
inability
of an individual
to change the
tide.

My suspicious brain is counting faults again
Like time, that ticks, so thick and true
I can count on my silly brain, and you
The twisted truth that haunts my glow
I am the oldest antidote
That lingers in my own flesh and blood
Litter lips, frittered love

It is a sharp pain
stab-like
intense and
unaccountable

The boiling bubbles over
A crow taunts from silken skies
I SCREAM outwards
shockwaves trembling at their own forces

But it is a pithy pain
an instant retreat
the anger fizzles like steam smothered by rain
I smell the indolent petrichor
this after-taste of after-rain
and the doleful waking death returns
a smooth decent to sleep beneath the flames
the choked-throat ash

I am the biblioklept of my own diary
and as I scour the stolen words,
I cry,
because I do not recognise their meanings
the one limpid fury has dimmed
to such dolour and that all colour is sapped
and the world, painted in shades of grey
in its own dilatory helpfulness
does not bother to weep for me, either

I reify this idea of living
as if life is actually a moving form
but in these bewitched static seconds
of frightened rage to doused sorrow
I see the blackness between the stars
and the finite that lingers in the infiinite's wings
like a shard between ribs of steel

and I recall
in my words of fulsome wisdom
that even steel one day melts
and only but rubble can remain

I never understood people who ran,
the burn in the lungs,
ache in the thighs,
pain and restless aftercare,

the people left behind,
the solemn faces that never cease,
the memories you can't escape.

I run into the night,
a wild blessed thing.

Hold it
close
hold it
let your hands
shiver ever so
slightly
the tiny quake
like a ripple
of water
dropped against a
roaring sea
let your hands
clasp
grip tightly
you may fall
do not fear
grip tightly
your tenacity will
serve you well
do not forget
that revenge
is a dish
best served
with tears and
shaky
quaking
quivering
bitter-sweet smiles
hold it, baby
hold it close
right up
until it pools
under your shaking bones
under the bells that clang
so loud within the holster of your heart
the rattling of the skeleton's smile
so crooked and old
worn and torn
white, pristine teeth, that gape from that
holey
presence
hold it
tighter
until the tips of your fingers ache slightly
bruises bursting like cherry's blood under the skin
feel the pulse
the throb
the reminder that you are alive
you are alive, darling, hold it like a baby
a newborn
soft, darling, soft and full of possibilities
let it cry out for you
let it call out your name in garbled language
let the eyes open to look into your own

and then
let your fingers lax
your eyes flutter shut
half lid your lips to part, gently like the first opening blossom of the first springtime bud
let the child go

fall

down like water
from your tight embrace.

Deep breaths.

Its easy.

tense and well met
bitter sweet
like dark chocolate
and old friendly
enemies

Cheese,
What do you want from me?
You sticky mouldy piece of flavour,
Literal illness conjectured into 'food',
Don't try to fool me with your pretty wrappers,
Tied in a bow of plastic and laudable fashion,
Cheddar, so generic I can barely taste it,
Mozzarella, like plastic blobs of mucus I strive to avoid,
Parmazon, so snooty, hair tied back, eyes dark and elegant.

Cheese,
You are the devil,
Dressed in white and smelly creams,
Topped as some sort of ostentatious filler,
I hope you burn in that oven,
Hope your skin melts in agony,
Until you have sullied my lunch,
And I have reason to sneer and throw you away.

What self respecting food group has holes?

Its just abysmal.

It hurts
to breathe
yet I still breathe
am I
a *******?

Every night
sleeping feels
like walking
to the edge
of the plank
and jumping off
Am I
brave?

I paint
with rouge
on my
flattened
torso
am I
an artist?

Mercy my mercurial madman,
thou t'will tame the timid treachery,
or one often offends others,
when we wilt wooden wisterias,
and assault an aviary's attachments,
don't dare die,
for friends from forever,
will,
never,
forget.

I am the swamp
viscous and visceral
my mind flooded with clogged thought
slow, I walk
slower, I change
this curled vine ever slow in its
strangulation
the swamp, a table mat of a face
dinner on my bones
breakfast at my fate
I kiss you, swamp-like
the frog's poisoned lips taste potent
and your smile, so green
it reminds me of my own flesh.

I leave my window open
god
I never pray for
may creep inside
in the night
rescue me from
this figure
inside my skin.

It bears no name
my hollowed shell
for the best
as with a name
comes power
and more sway
over the tides of my fluttered grip
over the glint of such ceasing sharpness
seizing spluttered breaths
throwing down a maiden's gauntlet
for god fears this spectre
more than I
its tangibility precedes its face
and I feel the icy fingers
long before
I pray.

you can't outrun your mind
but you can escape in dreams
i'm tearfully wakeful
because i am afraid of
pleasant feelings
and undeserved
memories

the precarious paper pile
builds up
I see the precipice shudder
in uncertainty
my gut lurches
pulled by gravity and
terror
will I drown
in my
mountain
of work?

passion upon a roaring sea;
sailors know the waves settle some
            but the storm must first pass;
            a predicted impossible.

sandpaper smiles crinkle like foil wrappers in mellowed sunlight,
it burns a little but its as smooth as silk after a while.

puppets on the walls snarl with the nuisance of real ones,
beauty festers in their laser pointer eyes,
and my feet are cold.

Vindicated words
hang
like chandeliers
from the
cracked and
aching
ceiling

it groans
in protest
as the heavy
glass
glimmers
with deep
and
gloating
insincerity

the words
feel like
the most gently
brush of
poisonous
knuckles
against the
curve
of her
jaw

her teeth ache
and she
thinks
the cause
is not
one to
investigate

the poison
gently
romances
its
way
down the
train tracks
of her
pores
through the tunnel
of bridge
down
into the enamel
of
fluttering
chin

it seeps
into the
teeth that
clench

not in pain.

they can't feel it
yet.

the gums
quiver
as the
smile
pulls chapped lips
like small shards
of hard glass
have been wedged
between the valleys
of soft and subtle
skin.

smile.

doesn't hurt
to smile

the voice
that asks her
is not one
that truly
cares whether
she agrees

it is a voice
that only wishes
to let out its
sails
and
swim
on its own chords
to let the rumble
in its chest
disperse
from thought to fact
from the desire to the tangible

its only longing
is to be corporeal
to feel
to exist there
to be palpable
to be the humidity
that squeezes
ever so tightly
on the bone
until the blood
evacuates and
all that is left
is bleached and

alone

exist,
its easy
its painless
there is no cost.

the lips
never
promised
that they
told the
truth

I am in love,
I say
as if
I know what that means.

Shame spits
on
my cheek
and I
let it.

I let
the door
open
for the monsters
and
now I
am sad that
they came.

Its
a crap
party.

A lie,
I say,
unwonted.

Iconoclast to
my own
stability.

I wish
I knew
when the
fire
reached my
own
fingers.

I wish
I knew
the smell
of
burnt
flesh.

I am
watching myself
tied to this
vengeful stake
and clapping,
slowly,
almost realising,
that I am
the
match.

the ulcers in my stomach twist in tune with your lyricism,
my ears twitch, unbidden, heed your call of candy,
your words, my teeth ache as if you had scoured me dry,
I lick my lips to try and remember the taste,

a mystery would be if you had stayed,
your absence, rather, is a settlement of expectation,
I humble myself when lying down in your indentations,
the bed still holds the impressions of your body
- yet my memory fades

I squint my eyes in the dark,
so long, so tuned out, that they ache,
in the dark I can also see the exact shade of your eyes,
but come morn it fades to whispers.

capriciously switching the channel
left, right
right, right
left, right,
left, right,

the dull din of an ache we cannot suppress
it isn't hunger - that's already solved
we are all listless idle beings in the vacuum of excess
No, it tastes like fury
rising up like a single cloying voice in a night of thin breath
the lungs rattle like maracas
it sounds like music, a single note, a dull thud
sing, says the rising tension
dance, it taunts, even though it knows you've left your land legs behind
you can't walk in a world so uneven, all you've learnt is stumbling in the guise of fluid steps
it's a tango, truly
play the part
fake it 'til you make it

You like this switching,
left, right,
foot, wrist
sleep, death
an open sea, a dusty field
production and consumption,
the pinwheel rattles like your skeleton's breath and you howl at the moon,
it wanes now, but you know it longs to grow fat and plump once more
it can never decide, just like you, always growing, shrinking, gasping, inhaling, sleeping... sleeping...
Not sleeping never wins, for you always sleep in the end,
your time awake just waits for your eyes to blacken
asleep, you dream without limit, time slips away

left, right
open, shut

skating on a thin shine of ice,
clean metal reflects only sharp eyes,
we know not how to skate,

but we know how to fly.

You have been still for so long,
Too long,
Your muscles are stiff and unforgiving,
Heart slowed almost to a stop,
Eyes closed to keep them wet,
Throat parched and burning from the sun.

Your arms hang out as branches,
Catching rain and falling leaves as things drift down from the endless sky,
You see butterflies making nests in your hair,
Settling down on the flowers growing from the moss and dirt,
You can feel them, soft, delicate and leeching,
The pitter of their tiny feet on your brittle nose.

Your mind has drifted,
From today, to tomorrow, to hours, to galaxies far away,
Your heart beat is the only way to tell the time,
Night and day has abandoned you.
Friends and lost ancestors no longer visit your grave,
No longer plant flowers on your skin,
And you are alone and empty once more.

You stare,
Mesmerised,
With eyes that have not opened for years,
At the lone blue bird settled on your neck,
You wonder absently,
A buzzing at the back of your ears,
If the blue bird will hurt you,
You remember reading centuries ago that blue birds were carnivores,
Would you be baby food soon,
Would that be better than soft stone skin.

Its wings flutter with unearned grace,
As if it were born to fly,
And did not even have to try,
Like those people born happy,
With no trouble,
And you had thought they were only myths carved by wishers.
The bright stark blue clashes against your mossy green fingertips,
Its feathers ruffle in the faint wind you can no longer feel,
And the warmth of its beating heart makes tears pound at your eyelids.

You have not cried in millennia,
It seems,
But the bird is so beautiful.

Sunlight pours through open leaves above you,
The forest has grown heavy around you,
Rainfall no longer pools like icy seas around your toes,
The rain is eaten harshly by the soft soil,
A paradox of lift and drop, condense and fall,
You wonder if you have become part of the cycle,
Or if you are breaking it.

You can feel the stars watching you,
Burning bright suns spinning in infinity,
Shedding light upon darkness,
Even to your corner of the woods,
With solemn eyes and stiffened smiles,
They pity you,
For even they do not last for eternity.

I am treading water.

Limbs stretched out to catch hopes of sunshine.

Mouth turned to the sun, open wide, flooding air into my lungs.

Some days I could swim for hours.

The time does not bother me as it pounds against my skull.

At night I can simply lie back and float into dreams, dry and safe.

I made it... I would think, made it through that day, another badge to add to my collection.

Some days the water churns in a storm around me.

I paddle, arms swinging, legs pounding at the brutal sea.

I beg for land to hoist upon, I beg for rest for my weary mind.

And the sea keeps churning, because the sea knows no patience or mercy.

At night I am afraid to close my eyes.

I do not want to sink into the ocean and drown in my sleep.

Even if half of me wants to die, the larger half is begging for land.

Sometimes people throw their floats against me.

They hit me hard, I almost don't catch them, and some float away.

But the ones that I can hold onto make swimming so much easier.

Sleeping feels safer with a pillow under my head, and no pounding heart to keep me awake.

Sometimes it feels like there is someone there with me.

Swimming alone on the grand ocean, just outside my vision.

I have swum for so long with no company I never investigate the human sobs that sound from beyond the reef.

I do not want to see them drown.

I am scared they will pull me down with them.

So I just keep treading water in my own small pocket of darkness.

Waiting for the sun to set.

we are all only lonely girls on park benches
legs entwined, swinging unbridled, as we peek through long shuttered lashes

the man swallowed in fading greys
he is prostate on that bench
peeking through bars of oak and endless views
he dares not seep from reality
gripped by wood

old aunt crazy cat
she was once such a man
engulfed in pipe dreams
and she doth peek back
through stems of newly birthed bench bamboo
waiting for lovers to enter their woods.

Darling,
a whispered
promise
that I hold
in my heart
burning bright
and blue
dim and
recognisable
the waking moon
smothered
by the bright
and choking
dawn.

Darling,
sheds my ears
of their layers
layers
onions
******>many
layers
sediments drifting
downstairs
the riverbank
churning of the sea
scream of my
fair ocean.

Darling,
ocean,
my fair
ocean.

Darling,
send goose-bumps
up my
arms
and
wrap bandages
around
the heavy rock
that sits
painful
and cracked
in my chest.

Darling,
remembered
through
telephone calls
hidden messages
coded pictures
his breath on her face
her smile on his ear
the electricity in their veins
the girl who sits
yellow coated
donned in raindrops
looking to the
artful a n d
looming
bell tower.

Darling,
a mournful song
is it
is he
is moving on
she could remember
when it
was not an eclipse
moon shedding
grey dust
against her cheekbones
hands drifting down
down
downstairs
d
o
w
n
to the bottom of her stomach
sending sparks
fireworks
whiskey breathless
mutters
of
Darling.

She is darkest of fears
is walking monster
is teeth out to ****
is eyes out to burn
is claws
extended
over the
throat

and sometimes
it is
her
own
throat

she is ******
is doomed
is rammed and
roomed into
small shells of
her own
violation and
creation

she is
whiskered tigress
howling at the
moon because
its so
shiny and she
can only
pretend
she is not
monster thing
is not
suffering
is not
spluttering as
the waves come
in and
drown her
with the fury
of its own
fire

sometimes
she lets them
she lets them
shut the door
and walk
into her
dankly
darkly
room

she waits
for company
to sheath
her sword

it glitters
from the
ruby red tears
that drip
from her wrist
from her neck
from the inside
soles
of her
legs
and she
whispers
sorrows of the
moon
her own
sorrows
she sometimes
let the
rubies
shimmer
inside herself
sometimes
lets them out

she sometimes
bites
the jugular
of the
man with rubies
who
only
wants
to help.

She is
helpless
beast.

It is a four wheeled vehicle,
With sharp edges and soft seats,
Turning perpetually until the gas runs low,
The lights dim,
And the ceiling droops in despair.

Hands trace steamed windows,
Drawing stick figures and love hearts in the snow swept smoke,
Dotting 'i's in elegant script,
Tracing 'I love you' with insincere infatuation,
Puffing breath against the window...

So the hand-print of the one you love remains.

Cherry Blossoms bloom,
Fleeting and beautiful, gliding gently from the branches,
Pink curls softly drifting to the ground,
Velvet and salmon as they fall, clean and soft,
Only to land in muddied puddles.

They dance in the subtle moonlight,
Chins and smiles twirling with their hands,
Eyes sparkling with rain and tears,
Lips wetted from midnight kisses,
Fingers warm from interlaced palms and digits.

Summer mist pools around springtime hope,
Pulling large trees from the ground for them to walk under,
Cooing birds into life, spilling water down streams and into softly traced lips,
Shimmering under the surface,
A clearing of all that had been taken that Winter.

They part ways on a harsh Autumn's evening,
Leaves shedding like skin from the canopy,
Rain pounding with a bullet's finesse,
Puddles murky and grey from cigarette smoke,

Eyes dark and solemn.

“Goodbye my love”

mucky plucky hardy souls
perfect puckered people without goals
mothers giving birth to gangling foals
daring doleful dancers with no roles
i am walking damnedly on hot coals.

I can get
pretty cruel
but only
when provoked
and I try
not to.

Anger, it boiled under her skin like a furnace,
Blisters bloomed like flowers in crystal moonlight,
White pustules of burgeoning desire,
The desire, pulsing white hot behind her eyes,
Hate swirling in the depths of her soul,
Heart pounding as her dreams pulled thoughts of destruction.

So small, and innocent, and they had never done anything to her,
Pumping, day in, day out, taunting her with that sound,
Metronome, tick tock tick tock, her time was running out so...
Why bother?
Hate, flashed, fast furious and ugly in her lungs,
And she choked on it, words coming out jumbled,
A red flush bleeding across her cheeks in reparations,
Those voices in her heads, so cruel and wanting.

Guilt undulated like a smirking nemesis,
Laughing as she fell down down off into the deep,
Plummeting off the edge of the waterfall,
Clothes pulled tight against her bones, just like her skin, so tight,
Fragile,
Easy,
So easy
It would be so easy,
Hate roared in her veins once more, taking hostage the pounding of her heart.

Fear, easy to grasp, hard to get rid of, drenched her in cold sweat,
Drew pleading gasps from her torn lips,
Torn, like skin, pulled sharp and ragged, from her teeth,
Always talking, always biting she was, mellifluous words of torment,
They spilled like heavenly gospel from her bleeding lips,
Smearing ugly and smelly shame across her belly,
So easy to let it fill her, so simple to let it consume her.

But she fought.

For she would hate to let it win.

Reality burns
worse than matches
lit alight
embers in the night
bon fires
born for the burn
that rubs friction
down
my skin
and I
try to escape
the burning chain.

Pain
in the chest
a symptom
they say
I choose heartbreak
its
a
lie
but it sounds
like
a movie
and
its a movie.

Real lives don't taste like drama.

Real lives don't have a taste.

Bitterness
like coffee
I've never
drunk it
so this
isn't real.

The main stream
is a
river of
confusing fish
and I
don't
eat fish.

That's a lie.

This is
my book
to write
so I
choose
to write
nonsense.

Its a movie.
Not a book.
And there's
no ending yet.

I've considered ending.

Its a movie
its fine
just a movie
its fine
bitter movie
just fine
that's okay
just a movie.

My movie
is one
people choose
to ignore
until the
credits roll
and they
can act
like they
liked it.

Little slips of lies
Never hurt a soul
Cradle pills of omission
And swallow them whole

Carmine
a flash flood of liquor
hacking coughs
and haunted head injuries

Let me sleep
honey
honey
saccharine, I don't care
just let my eyes close
and mind click down to a dull din

I can hear your thoughts
the walls
the clock
ants, running, running
I am the centre of a hivemind
buzz, buzz

Moonlight:


I think it is time
to stop this kerfuffle soon
before it has won

the achy heart pounds
it does not understand me
rather it would fight

my ears curl like leaves
they resemble elven sharps
they quiver so kind

maybe I have wrought
the tides to sweep me home to rest
and loose my stiff bones

a child does not ask
why a man holds his tongue well
do not ask me twice

the tree is evil
its bark collapsed by its plan
and I watched it fall

do not rhyme or sleep
slumber is for the deadened
sheep count so beguiled

my heart likes your lips
and my toes curl like your hair
so of course its love.

Outstretch arms,
an invitation that varies.

Chin under neck,
closure - of the door or the soul.

We sway like grass stems,
there is fragility in community - its trodden yet resilient.

The music thrums,
heart beats never end, mother, lover, heart monitor then...

Our eyes miss,
it is easier to look away than stare hoods and absence in the face.

But we dance,
forever more, in heavens above, the lovers never perish.

she's crawled back through the thin film of my skull
the fleshy thoughts made from home
and once
back when sun was smiles
when history writ itself for miles
and I could sing like divine treatises
I'd held her hand, our fingertips like petal lips
and now
all black, and blue, and cold
my shivered heart
my hungry wolfish brain
it starves for that from whence it came
and I picture, my beauty, my oldest soul
the moon burrowed beneath my skin
the sun, bright, and silken, and harsh
that had told me words I'd feared so oft
I remember my last year's love
and now
the only way we touch
through memory and old sentiments
I'll wait as long as she'll let me
until the pain
consumes
us both

lyrics from half-cherished poems
a pet who owns you half the time
a half-boy half-thing who ignores his omens
a life, a lie, a reach, a rhyme.

insectoid eyes peer down the rabbit hole
there are infinite choices but one ending
we all know that whatever you chose, it.

Invisible love,
I have conjured you from conjecture,
Have twirled your image in my sated mind,
Have gasped mercury down your incorporeal cheeks.

You are fathomless,
Are infallible and mysterious,
All gentle curls and loving smiles,
Eating away at my cursed imperfection.

Invisible love,
I long to see you once more,
To pull your ghostly presence to my side,
And sing you gentle lulllabies.

You are a child,
And aged wine,
Tasting like smoken ham,
And buttered impossibilities.

Invisible love,
I would lead you to the cinema,
Point fingers at those invisible friends of yours,
Whisper sweet nothings of your desires.

Love,
For you do love me,
May you be mine or not,
Twisted symphony of mine mind,
I will always treat you so,
As if you were true.

Truly there.

Translate my
confusion for me
so I can
breathe right
and think
clearly.

Make me see
I beg you please
the way out
of this trap
I have
built for myself

I know
I will be okay
I feel it
deep down
in my bones
but right now
I am not
in my bones
I am
in the mists
and wisps
of my
strangling mind

I can't breathe right
I can't think
I need to know
the future
before I shatter
like cheap china
and leave my
feet ******
as I race
across the kitchen
floors

beg of you
let this feeling end
I am an
endangered species
wandering through
times that don't match
and junctions that
are dead ends
I want a road
that I can follow
with my eyes
closed
and my hands
tied
and my legs

curdled into mush

and my chest
hot like fire
and my heart
stopped
and my thoughts
in disrepair

build be a river
so I can cry
and no one can
see
and ask
me

I need to be alone
but that is the most
dangerous time
of all

I am a savage beast
contained in milky
translucent
skin
my gums ache where
the fangs beg
for freedom

my heart shutters
I want to live
but I can't seem
to breathe right

Wetted cheeks chafe her skin,
tears pull agony breathless from her chest
the salty taste of the
ocean in her heart
reddened bruised blushes
upon her arched bones
the tang that
tastes so
delectable

but at what cost

the trade of her heart,
as it pounds
like many drums
in her
open cavities
the curled
elf ears
that quiver with her
unused shaky
smiles
the quiet
tremble
of her lips
and eyes that shine
with that wetness
as she

as she

she does not cry,
she is warrior
she is princess
she is
steel bars
bent and curled
malliable
around her
crescent arms
that hold her together
she is
whole
holy
she is
moonlight upon
the
antidote of
her sickness
the shedding of
skin
the snake's bark
and the
brown mercury
of that
sweet
and
tangy

tear

that
she is torn
she tears
it
breaks
under her
calloused
fingers
nails pry
at the
secrets
written on the
undersides
of her limbs

it is not skin
it is not pain
it is not hers

it is not tears
that she
wrenches
from her
breathless
chest

she is

not

teary.

cacophony of thought
avalanche of
miss you
sorry
didn't mean to
maybe
sorry

impose,
& lose composure.
expose,
& forever foreclose.
repose,
& lose purpose.

Remember my darling,
imp,
there is no,
ex,
who can ever
re,
flect your true soul,
only jealous beggars
& bitter ghouls.

You wonder,
ears curled in on themselves like hunched over drunkards,
when your art became objects.

The artifacts hang,
from frayed skeleton string,
stretched and whittled like string-bean veins.

Your hand itches,
like distilled water as thunder growls overhead,
and you know it is reaching for a pen.

No longer,
can you stare into the mirrored engravings,
and see fleshed out  words.

Scant nothings,
hum their prayers up into the sky,
but you do not follow.

There is,
time for you yet,
and art is not reality.