curled up compact
as shockwaves of pain
twist daggers up my sides
doubling over metallic tang
as i coughed up rust
breaking, breaking

coiled within and writhing
as the shock slithers into aches
breaking apart in sulphurous acid
tearing holes in my viscera
as i'm blistered and vitriolic
hurting, hurting

contorted inhumanely
as the irascible aftershocks
flowed magma on my insides
burning me internally
as i waited for it to be over
dying, dying.

i’m aware
my hands
are tainted
with blood,
but i’m afraid
that yours is
not on mine.

lipstick stains
and beyond
at the backseat
and all over my brain
i missed the tears
under the covers
disappearing
like little favours
leave me alone
i will close that track
cross the threshold
and mind the gap
i vied for this
this vile acridity
this insane stupidity
and i believe in
the reverse of sense
hoping tragedies
like a sceptical god
a symphony like
sweet medicines to
kick in when the
lights rage in blood
forget about me now
my floral imprints
blossoming on skin
pretty in red and pink
are nothing but
butterfly memories
fleeting and fugacious
as cold as your kiss
hug that jacket tighter
and close both eyes
the walk is shorter
than this long drive
but if your lips bruise
or your fingers tire
from singing back
dear, i’ll douse the fire
my gasoline’s empty
and i’m almost out
this is all falling apart
so hold your mouth
and when everything
fades out slowly to
music and black
as you forget to listen
you will find that i
wiped away all of the
evidence, and the
lipstick stains are missing.

your brown sugar eyes
and glances that tasted
of soft candy and vanilla
lifted away the gravity
and it spun candy floss
in shades of pastel clouds
within a heart that was
as bitterly grey as can be.

a yesterday
or two ago
i watched
my child
grow up and
get married

but today
and in the now
i watched
my child
fall down and
get buried.

silence is a
distant bird
at the back
of my throat
daring to fly away

conversation
is a broken
winged dove
wishing to soar
yet never getting away.

i quietly wonder
if i had done anything
wrong to reclaim
another faultful star

as i stare outside the window
cascading past endless stretches
of worn paved-roads
and vast fertile landscapes

and everything looks transiently gargantuan

but i momentarily glance
at the empty bus seat next to me
and i feel rather small again

flimsy music in my ears
speaking of infinite sentiments
and i’m disenchanted again
these mellisonant voices are enough
they have to be enough

to keep my wandering mind
company against the ephemeral madness

i flick my red lighter open
and hold it close—but not too close
to my dying pen; wondering, for
a moment, if the same trick could revive
my spirits like the stuttering ink,
tempted to burn my flesh back to life

but i merely stare into the flame—
flickering unsteady still—and blow it out
so it doesn’t have to be lonely
as my heart is right now

as i travel from small city
to smaller town, i wonder where
all my friends are right now
how they are all doing
what they are doing

and if they’re all having fun
without me.