be happy they said,
so i popped a pill into my mouth,
letting out a groan of dread.

Brushing up against me, except
a caress isn't as welcome as a whisper

Dragging prehistoric pills into my nose
with the pull of memories that
prefer to stay whispers

It's these desensitised nights
that remind me of what was
once so loud

And loud is quiet to me what is inaudible
to others under yellow spectrum
of silver-gloss, enough in god and
without loss

I swallow the capsule and taste the
nothingness and shake my head to
hear ringing and see other, rarer
colours- ones your eyes could hint at

And to be an ultra-deterrent that
kills without touching the lives it is
bluffing, I cannot suture the fracture
in my future
to be god, no

To be semi-real, perhaps
I am not as prolific as
I pretend to be
Each facet is another winter day
I wish wasn't sunny and mocking me

To be what you define reality,
you are a part of me
And a part of yourself is what
you have let me define
My harbouring hunger havocs soft

And if what I inhale makes me
become transparent, will you still
see me?
What's real isn't what I can reveal,
my dear

Isn't it broken, the alignment in our stars
To shift the glow, evermore
I determine the order
You determine me

Isn't it irreparable, the crackling phenomenon
existing between our gazes
We both know it is, and we love to
fall victim to it,
gracefully or not

-c.j. and Joshua Haines

While I type to you about pigeons
and you talk about an article
with my subject's first syllable,
just spoken differently,
our walls crumble
a Berlin sight
Caught in the east, I am liberal
and arts
You claim to be only a sum of your parts
So here is me proving you wrong
Sending the lyrics to a trampled-down song
Eleventh hours soothe the night
Letting our minds get our breathing right
I'm sorry for my preoccupations
My lover, he was an alcoholic
I'm sorry for all of the poetry, too
Which probably only puzzles and bothers and unsanctifies you
It's the least, it's the most, it's the worst kind of best I can do
Underneath it all, my parts are few
So subtract and add and pull me apart
That way I'll know I own a tangible heart

-c.j.

Enough of the amourous, February's far
Speak of the little bells instead
Ringing then clanging around in my head
Because it is said that when one writes
of the trouble, it can dissipate, be silenced
If only that were true of love, our blood,
and dew
Whose images forever stay and turn us blue

-c.j.

Neither Babylon's ***** nor Mother Mary
No, not the one who is quite contrary
For in her grows not a garden but a king
But who am I to say that divine thing
Sins, scarlet, red as blood
Turned white as snow, as wool
Yet still remains that poison-seed
Which reminds me and reminds me of my wicked deed
Pure, I am, but not have I always been-
"The devil finds work for idle hands to do"
Neither downtrodden in dirt nor radiant as sun
These tryings, becoming fruitful, turn me to the One

-c.j.

Just wandering in emotional wonderland
How is the weather, you asked
Mad, with torrential rains every few yards
Sounds a bit frightening, you said
Oh, it is-but also devastatingly beautiful

-c.j.

The rich fled from their churches,
their faces flushed
The poor remained in the parks
with the birds squawking at their feet

Blood, fabric, hymns- clashes of humanity with art
When asked about the past, the bravest would utter,
Holy water couldn't save me, all the priests saw me in the flood

So the wind prompted,
Whisper to the deities of troubles, the paradises, the wars;
hear them shiver

When the authorities passed by
the laity revealed,
They told us to confess that we were wicked in nature, sinners from birth but we always liked the thought of innate good

-c.j.

My chest feels hollow a lot, so I wonder
what truths would come out of it,
they said
They had asked, what is reliable to you?
And I said, innate truths that bleed
in your chest
What makes something real, they ask
That's something I've been trying to figure out for a while, I say
So you've been in love, they inquire
So my heart tells me, I reply
I yearn for asteroid belts and pluto,
alas dreams I have surrendered,
they mention after a pause
Oh, dear rune, don't think yourself
so ancient

-c.j.

I'm not one to give up
and you tell me you can live with that
You guess that I haven't given up my crusade
The one that makes you all the more alluring
I believe that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all
You shouldn't treat us like we are time bombs
Though it appears all is fair in love and war
Something within keeps me knocking on your door, over and over
You tell me you will always deal with my madness
You believe I would do the same for you
I already have been, I say
And you reply, that's why I believe that you would

-c.j.