I've given up writing December.
I swear I tried, but these lines
don't seem to care; The drugs never work.
The haze of blinking eyes and wasted time
feels like infinity. I want to misremember
those wide eyed faces and your smirk
when you said you were mine. (Words like knives.)
I knew it was fatal as soon as you whispered that lie.
I swear... I've given up this December.
My words can't dig up the dirt
to bury these Winter memories
and these lonely goodbyes...

change is a constant
motion in life's instant
organic factory of growth
thus the folds at the back of my head
are a recent intrusion against my image
so are the hairs in my ears
and in my now dilated nostrils
you used to have these lovable dimples
and a delectable bounce in your walk
but now all you ever do is talk and talk
about the fictional excellence of your life
and how you're much sought after
even in this, the twilight of your days
            head bald as an egg
            walk a dawdle
           mouth a dark cavern
           physique like a sumo wrestler
           memory like a closed book
          and demise like a meteor
will i know you when i see you again?
my heart has kept you frozen and young

I miss
the twinkles
in your
young eyes.

{ E.I }

It is possible to change.

Enter the dusky wilderness
in stillness, in silence

moments will open
like desert bloom

brief and luminous.

I shared an outside table
With two young American graduates
On an amber Scottish day.
They were completing
The European tour:
Not unlike the Romantics
Walking the continent.
A cap to an illustrious degree.
One scholar was blunt:
Do you believe in God?
No.
Why do you say that?
His companion leaned in for my answer.
Because you asked.
Both reclined into a smile.
Of course.
Then settled
Into a half-empty glass.

Why do I like him?

Can I touch you?
Just there on your throat
Lean in to kiss it, and
Smell the earthy scent of your skin.
To press my lips on you,
to taste the skin
to **** you
hold you.

I want you to sink your head into my lap,
smell me, wrap your arms around me.
To cry, to find comfort with me.
Fall asleep there.
Play with your black hair,
feel it's texture thick.
The heat of you on me,
it burns on me.
Ravenous.