i am scared
you will tire
of hearing
me say
'i love
you'

I want to kiss you so fiercely that I finally understand the depth at which I fall and the height at which you rise. I will meet you again, even still —in the center of it all ("Like a ring."); the two of us caught in a tangled mass of scarlet cord, wound and knotted so tightly around us that I almost feel indistinguishable from you. ("Two bodies, two lives, one soul.") I can feel all that red humming and chanting beneath my ribcage like a war song, running through my veins to deliver to my heart a desperate echo of longing.

I've got a hot date in Heaven..
Don't keep me up 'cause he'll be waiting,
He was my first love,
And maybe my last love,
.. Sometimes my worst love,
But we won't talk about that ;)

And i'm lying here while he sets us a table,
I've been to Amsterdam but never to the city of angels
All i know is i'm in love,
With my only best friend..
And it's a holiday i'll tell them,
I'll be back more 'heaven sent'..

But til then i'll just talk to the stars..

Oh would it be okay if i chose not to move on?
'Cause i believe in holding on,
And i believe you're holding on too
&All; the stars that alligned us,
Will hopefully find us..
Again,
And again..
And againnn..

I've got a hot date in Heaven..
Don't keep me here 'cause Augustus is waiting..
He was my first love
And maybe my last love
But always my favourite love
... Yeah i'll talk about that.

Someday i'll write about that.

You seem like Jesus
Are you Jesus? But no ---
You call Him with another name

Your eyes look like Jesus'
Are those His? But no ---
I've never seen His nor yours anyway

Where do you hide
on my nightmares? I fear
your absence, I never could make you up
inside my head!
Fading voice, dim heartbeat,
smooth, smooth surface of skin
An acne on my chin reminds me
you were once also a teen


Bloodfall
A trace of betrayal appears on your stomach

Your tongue and hands make miracle
I think you may well be Jesus
I saw it on the bible
But no ---

Photograph by Michael J. Sullivan, 2010*

Listen up, you little *****, and let me
teach you a thing or two.  See this skull here,
poised and serene?  How do you know it’s poised?
It’s dead, for Christ’s sake! The only thing it’s
poised on in the edge of this stump—“ye olde
dead tree” holding “ye old dead head.”  He had
a name, you know—Yorick—I didn’t make
that up. I knew him; good friend of my mum’s.
     This sword here could have been what ran him through,
you know.  Coulda got him straight through the gut,
and you’re all sittin’ here admiring its
craftwork.  It’s the fancy hilt, isn’t it,
the bright metal chasing its own tail in
golden loops.  Warm yellow over cold steel,
that’s what you people like—spectacle, shine—
not dust and history, like Yorick over here.
     You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?  Only
thing these candles are good for, really.  They’re
tallow—stinking, smoky fat made by Jen
on her weekends off.  She doesn’t know much
about candles, but her *****’s Special
Draft is the best mead made for this dung heap.
     Anyway, I gotta ****.  Leave Yorick
with your tips, and remember: what glitters
here isn’t gold, just paint over old age.

I sit here against my screen, my words flowing like
the blood in my alcohol inflated veins,
My mind muddled, yet flowing, open, and at ease.
I sit here listening to voices, singing. And I miss you all.
I would like to say that it consumes me, that it occupies my every step. I would like to think that it would make me human.
But it is not that.
It is a dull aching in my stomach. That small nagging in my gut that reminds me that while I am not truly alone,
I sure as hell feel it.
My friends,
I would love to raise a glass, smile, and thank you all for everything, sitting here shirtless and tired in my desk chair.
But that would be talking to the two million pixels on my screen, and not you.
My friends,
You help me walk. You help me jump.
You let me fly.
My friends,
I've said this before, and
My friends,
I will say it a thousand more times, because I cannot say it enough, and
My friends,
I thank you.

Hours taken by sea
butter sunshine gone
to a chalky lavender smudge

our feet made prints
in piles of freckles
skin tickled by heat

are you in my head
pirouetting
between dreams

or real as diamonds
(so you’d know
about kisses)

you filled hollowness
with petals
cups of lust

played
my fragile xylophone
like an expert

swapped it
for a piano
made it sing

you’re the pearl
on my palm
in a thunderstorm

my sweet speck
of dark magic
at sunrise

I pull away
for you to tug me
right back in again