unbound cliffs
resurgence
i see spindles
of thunder float
behind studded
eyelids

the day is only
young if i
ask it to; my spine is
cracked like an
unloved book, but
the writing has faded

into bloated gums
swelling with
indignation
swear on your god
knife to paper
ink to straw

touch the edge
of the cloud for another
story—lightning
strikes twelve
under turbid gazes,
placid

chew the shards of glass
between your overcast teeth
and promise me this time—

promise me you wouldn’t lie.

doesn’t feel too good with
blood overflowing in your
mouth, does it? did it turn
the ashes into putrid mud,
as well, and pour out from
every orifice in a thick, dull
sludge, confessing the crimes

tucked quietly behind those
calculating, glimmerless eyes…

does the crunching of glass
sound like the bones i broke
trying to convince myself that
your gaping lips are meant for
more than blatant fabrications—

does the crunching of glass
sound like sweet music to you,

the way it does to me right now?

my dear pretty starling
you'll hold my fragile attention
for no more than perhaps a season

but i'll still sit under your acacia branch
collecting iridescent feathers
as i listen to you beckon away the sun

and my dear pretty starling
soon you'll migrate to warmer evergreen
so i wish your wispy heart farewell

for mine has rotted off like bad fruit
but i'll still tuck away the seeds
for your curious beak to plant elsewhere.

A renegade dream
All burned up in sins
Fall against reason
Fight against rhyme

I could stay and wait
A little while longer
But it seems that I’m
Running out of time

Yet to spill apart this
Chest, and carve my
Second thoughts onto
Your creased brows

I’d gladly let you do
The same—if only our
Fatal circumstance
Shall ever mildly allow.

clumsy
i’m so clumsy
i’m so full of
gasoline, and
stupider still as
i let you in
i let you win
and i let the
phosphate feel
like loving
when you sing
when you sting
i found it too
fascinating
one more strike
before you begin
and you’re clumsy
oh, so clumsy
you’re so full of
broken things
and when i burned
i never knew
that i’d also become
a part of them.

i am tethered to my sickness—
brain worms and implacable affinity
soil and blood like strings on
careful fingers, knitting precariously
the loose ends, every alteration
another implication, pull hard enough
and i am tightly bound to peril
deeply fused into your liquid mercury
insensate though that may be
unliberated; as my mind is a metal can
rust and decay so effervescent
an empty clanking of unlinked adages
circulating alluvial expectations
throughout all of my weeping nerves
and stillness, if i were still able
pain could only wake me for so long
before attachment becomes a
blunted weapon, and your infection, my
bereaved maladaptive paradise.

autumn leaves
and nothingness
seasonal escapade
ache more for less

hills that whisper
junipers without whim
love without living
wounds without skin

mental imposter
corrupted serenity
flimsy enclosures
where art humanity

mountains that shake
hellebores without bloom
live without loving
oxygen unconsumed.