The rain beat down like a ferocious lover
On cracked windows
And creased curtains.
Barren and dry outside
This tumultuous storm
Lay inside my eyes and kept
The raging wildfire abreast
If only momentarily.
Sorrow as my only defense mechanism
Pleading innocence and defeat
I may be laying low
For a week or more
But I will not be beat.
Go ahead
And bring the heat that swells
In the late august
Of good intentions turned sour.
Age out all the promises
That have rot in the back room
Before ever reaching their destination.
We have reached the boiling point,
Now slipping into disintegration.
You were a caricature of yourself
And I, the animator.
Maybe I’ll see you later
When you’ve rearranged your display.
I think we’ve had enough
For today.
c.e.m. 2.9.14

The clouds seem to mock the buildings
On days like today,
Flamboyantly drifting across the space
Their grounded counterparts
Don’t have the heart
Nor the stamina
To conceive;
Knowing they will never part
The ground.

Brick and mortar,
They stand
Stagnant in cement;
They believe they have the upper hand.

When capricious skies
Are prone to fickleness,
The buildings stand
Like they do best.

Staring out their window eyes
Story by story
People-watching people
Oblivious to their silent presence
And their
Delicate, intricate scaffolding
For a more pressing interest
In those cloudy skies
And the imaginable possibilities
spawned
By their passing by.


c.e.m. 1.19.15

I am spreading myself out across the splintering voids of the crackling civilization
One borrowed hair tie,
T shirt
Bobby pin
At a time.
I am the little presents and treasures
You keep for no reason
And you are my mix CDs.
You are the summer when i
Was most like the trees- swaying and bending in the vaporizing heat
Of an august afternoon.
I am ashes scattered to the wind
Begging to begin again
With an old friend.

Cem 427a 11015

There she  lies
Wide awake in this cellar of her  nightmares;
A prison army camp
Stamps it's boots across her
Charcoal heart;
It's remnants will be spread across
Many eras. Smudged mascara
And a sallow face
She will replace you
Because she was trained to.

Cem 420a 11015

Let the wind take me like smoke
And every other over used metaphor
You’re a bore
No I am
I don’t know where I stand
Where we stand
We used to hold hands
Not anymore.
I’m in the bathroom hiding
Biding our time
Lets rewind
You’re always on my mind
Its inevitable that I’ll fall into my old ways
I’ll start littering again
And slithering around with suburban ****.
I haven’t become anything.
I’m just coming undone.
C.m.

8.3.14

To the crushing of bones
when you implode;
my stubborn skull
was no match for the concrete.

I flew face first-
now I am ground into dirt,
or the dirt is ground into me
wherever I’m bleeding.


I can’t clean these wounds sober.
this girl?
you won't know her.

my jaw is popping-
is there any chance of that stopping soon?
The moon is closing in on the sun,
threatening to collide
and I've grown wearing of hiding in the night.
I'd just like some
medical attention.

My knees,
my knees...
I forgot to mention they're all ******;
I don't have the money to call off
for a few days.

can I sleep on my face?
my pain is evidence of my shame-
these wounds just my physical disgrace.

I'll regain coherency
at a quarter till three
with a swollen, puffy face
and vinegar in my veins.

just add it to the list
of blundering strains
maybe some time in the future
I’ll be able to worry about it again.

it never ends.

my new lamp, shattered
my clean sheets
dirtied and tattered.

my left ear is buzzing-
everything has gone fuzzy
and my head is numb and
throbbing.

maybe I’ll sleep well tonight,
and my nightmares will find me
without any fight left
in my dried out bones
and pseudo studio home.

c.m.
draft/original: 8.5.14
posted: 1.7.15
revision/edit: 1.8.15