still as the wind
would allow me to be,
witnessing her
as vibrant
as only a dream
would seem.

eyes of green,
eyes of dream,
eyes of fading leaves
in a hot August sun.

still as the earth
would allow me to be,
absorbing her
as impermanent
as only a revery
could ever be.

eyes of green,
eyes of dream,
eyes of shaded clay
under blades of sage.

still as the fire
deep within my heart
could burn.

gazing longer than I should.

still as the the gentle ocean
of her chartreuse eyes,
reveling in her
marble meadow,
with those twin ponds
of green,
in a passe-partout of
ebony locks of wilderness.

gazing longer than I should.
gazing longingly
at her eyes of endless summer,
eyes of green,
eyes of dream.

thousands of wasps
swirl around me
in a painful display.

I sting myself with insecurities.

hundreds of rats
drop from above
in a torrent of decay.

I plague myself with insecurities.

packs of wolves
dance around the stars
gnawing rabid at my flesh.

I rend myself with insecurities.

gargantuan paws dig
away at the dirt that
I was made of.

I bury myself in insecurities.

ursine hunger rips
and tears into
a still beating heart.

I starve myself with insecurities.

frost wrecked skies
crack above me
and fall sharp into
a dancing mind.

I wish for honey,
but I sting myself
instead.

I don't deserve anything else.

I went down those stairs,
And through that door,
Between the ancient columns
Of old and forgotten stone.

The air was made of crystals.

Hope danced above,
And around,
Flickering golden and silver
In the cold winter lights.

The air was made of crystals.

I could feel again,
As if the numbness thawed
In that single moment
Spent by the fireplace
Of someone willing to
Listen.

The air was made of crystals.

And I went down those stairs,
And through that iron door,
And past those frost covered columns.

And the air was made of crystals.

whispers in the wind
of a remembered
tomorrow
that will never
come to pass.

shades of broken glass
trapped in the crimson
soles of tired feet
break apart in
a multitude of
echoing patterns.

a hunger for something
without shape,
without substance,
without the traced outline
of neverending desperation,
howls deep within the throat.

bottled yesterdays
shattered on the marble
of ever-shimmering amnesia
creaking like bones
inside an hourglass on the edge
of an untangling rope.

all that is left is to hope
for a quick bite of the river
that turns all tomorrows
into forgotten yesterday.

you
you dared tell a lie at
the very end
of each and every verse
that snapped out
of that flaming mouth
of yours.

I felt the guilt
of not quenching
your eternal thirst.

spinner of magmatic threads,
supine in your cocoon of lies.
weaver,
deceiver,
you told yourself the same lies
that entangle me in the susurrations
of your feminine death rattle.

I felt the weight
of not quenching
your ever burning thirst.

weaver,
deceiver.
remembered silken fingers
crisscrossing the empty
spaces between my heavy
heartbeats.

I felt the vibration
of failing to spot
that beautiful web you've spun.

believer,
deceiver,
weaver of all the lies
I needed to hear.

tell me,
are you content with being
all alone in your widow's web?

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness of what it means to be human.

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness of what it means to be.

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness of what is.

I don't want to be here, all alone in the darkness.

I don't want to be here, all alone.

I don't want to be here.

I don't want to be.

I don't want.

I don't.

I.

I must have been born some day,
some time ago,
somehow,
against my will.

I must have been born because I have this body coiled around me.

I must have been given shape some day,
some time ago;
molded into something
my soul doesn't recognize.

I must have been given shape because I have this body coiled around me.

I must have been held in motherly arms some day,
some long while ago,
because I remember her saying
that she can take away this life as easily as she's given it.

I must have been held because I remember how many times I cried and asked to be held.

I must have been crawling some day,
many scraped knees ago,
through the broken glass of
always feeling so small.

I must have been crawling because my knees hurt so very much.

I must have been walking around some day,
some time ago,
somehow,
against the frigid wind.

I must have been walking because I remember that unforgiving blizzard.

I must have been swimming some day,
some time long past,
somehow,
holding on to dear life.

I must have been swimming because I have saltwater deep in my lungs.

I must have been running some of those days,
awhile ago,
from something
I keep trying to forget.

I must have been running because I feel so very out of breath.

I must have been given a body some day,
some time ago,
somehow,
against my will.

I must have been given a body because it is suffocating me.

Because I don't feel welcome in it.

Because I don't feel safe in it.

Because my very soul wants to destroy it.

Because I don't want the memories it shelters in its bones.

I must have been given a body because it is forever coiled around me.

I must have been given life one day because I want to give it all back.