There’s a menacing chill
on the air
this evening.
“Had I the wherewithal
I’d leave this place,”
I think to myself
as the first warning is issued
by that unfriendly cloud
hanging low and dark
over the mountain.
While once I thought that
the rain would fall with purpose,
I’ve come to understand
that floodwater has no manifesto
except to place the scumline as high as it can.
We can stack these sandbags tall
around our hearts
without regard for what’s on either side of the dam.
They’re only transient monuments to ineffectiveness anyway.


An assassin stands at the corner
wondering if I’ll ever leave my house
and its warmth.
I have news for him, though…
There’s nowhere to go, and
the weatherman thinks we’ll have a storm.

Sun come up but
not for me.
My name is not whispered by the wind
when it blows through that tall stand of pines.
What now passes for a winter night,
with its tepid atmosphere and
lack of magic,
does not call.
If it did I wouldn't answer.
Standing sentry
are the haints and phantoms -
the faded pains
felt as echoes are heard,
left forgotten but waiting.
All of this time spent idly watching the world feels wasted, but
we've been secretly reinventing nuance.
I dont recognize it anymore.
Too bad, really, since
I've always loved subtle difference.

It hits out of nowhere, with no warning.
A year since my last mental breakdown,
Thinking I was done with suicidal ideation,
And it hits me with the force of a torpedo.
I never know where it was lying dormant
Or what triggered the volcanic eruption
That burns away all progress made.
I just know that it hurts, and the ash lays heavy on me.
I lie down and I don't let myself get up.

I've never read The Torah, but
I'm reasonably sure
it is a travel guide
for a desert getaway.

I've never dreamed of
red headed priestesses
who can move their hips
like cement mixers.
They probably have sharp teeth and
slender fingers.

I always thought that
the cosmos would bend down
to give me a dap.
It still may.

I'm full of dark and weird judgement.
All for you.
Sometimes the darkness wanes
while the weirdness lingers.

I Miss you terribly already,
Miss the space between your eyelids,
Where I'd stare through awkward sentences
To avoid through awkward silence.

Miss your teeth when they chatter,
When we smoked out in the garden,
When we couldn't sleep for all the heat,
Soft kisses began to quicken.

Miss your big Arms around my body,
You were scarred, bruised and battered,
But I Miss your sitting up incessantly,
And the fact you were always waking in the night.

I hoped for your life,
You forgot about mine.

Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder,
As we rolled in early morning,
Miss your arm dying beneath me,
As I lay there simply yawning.

Please forget me,
you were right dear,
I am cold and self-involved,
And though I'll miss you, old lover
I am weak and therefore fold.

I Get distracted by my music,
Think of nothing else but art.
I'll write my loneliness in poems,
If I can just think how to start.

Dot my I's with charcole pencils,
Close my eyelids,
hide my eyes,
I'll be idle in my ideals,
Think of nothing else but I.

I hoped for your life,
You forgot about mine,
I'll love you incessively,
Until the end of time.

I've discovered Hell, and the truth is,
It isn't a place you go, it's a sickness.
It resides within your bones
And its scaffolding is made from trauma.
The only fire you'll find is from the white-hot flashbacks
That leave you drenched in sweat that smells like smoke.
No-one lives there except you and your enemies,
And your enemies are fragments of history, unable to be killed.
Your mind is the devil that subjects you to punishment
That you can't help but be convinced that you deserve,
And escape is a notion kept only for tears;
Everything else remains trapped.
Hell is being held within the cage of your own body
And killing yourself trying to break free.

I love the way the Earth sings your name
It's like the skies are slowly falling
On piano tiles
That even the deaf can hear.
So pure, so slowly killing and reviving souls
At the same time.

I love the way you play with the wind
Like a child who learns how to play guitar
Sometimes foolishly breaking the strings
Sometimes creating music
That cuts deeply into my soul.

I love the way snow settles on your eyelashes
And how your eyes turn into a Wonderland
Where I don't shrink nor I grow
I just turn into someone
Who perfectly fits
In your world.