To Jess

She wanted to bury me alive
but i will (not) hand her the shovel
to dig my grave.

She wanted to ignite me
but i will (not) bathe in gasoline
and revel in the incense.

i almost thought i saw heaven
when hell had me at hello,
almost.

But i am flesh and fire,
i am iron and ice.  
Do I burn?

And burn and burn,
reduce her
down to
ashes
and
(if I have to)
light the torch
to My lungs, My bones,
My skin, My blood and My sanity,

Burn and burn and burn until
nothing
is left of
Me
just to cremate her?
(as I yell with shortness of breath,
"sic semper tyrannis!")

or do i fall
and let her take all?

She used to hold my hand as she goes,
Cracking serious jokes,
And our hearts locked close.

Her hair the color of a raven's wing,
Glasses on her nose,
Wise and sharp like an owl's they bling.    

Now the years have flown by,
And some stranger guarding by her side,
For her body failed her, she cried.

Long, curly locks no more.
It was summer, then it's cold.
White as snow, to the core.

No words come when we talk.
But the tv's on, which colors
The speechless nature of our dialogue.

When your first looked into me
— the eye of a hurricane —
You mistook my calm for peace.  

But every breath from my teeth
comes out like a siren’s scream.

I am made of
war
war
war.

When I sank Atlantis,
and brought continents to heel,  
you begged and pleaded
for mercy
too late.

I grinned
like the fool you are.

Of countries deluged,
mighty vessels drowned,
and all the storms they weathered,

you named them after us.

When will you learn
we wake war and wonder?

To Polina, my anchor, through all my lives

Between dawn and dusk
on the precipice
in shades of scarlet
stood a magnificent house

Strangers and I were enthralled
by the neon red foyer where
Francesca and Paolo welcomed us
to the house of a thousand doors

Each door an invitation
to delicious desire
each room a seduction
of perilous passion

One door opened —
three bare women holograms
drank from a small lake and
brandished wicked, feline smiles

At my feet a church of cardinals
glowing with tears, heat and sweat
whimpered in their prayers
but the pope watched from afar.  

He speaks—
the mouth at once is an eye, an abyss
and a hurricane from Pandora's box

Then I am I no more — a cardinal in crimson —
but no shame or guilt guides me
when blood-red lips land on mine

"Do you not see
there is equal courage
equal purity
in giving
into
temptation—
the kind
that appals the devil
to revel
in the hurt, the open wounds,
and the agony
to dive deep—
into the depths
and say all the yeses
to embrace the darkest demons
of your soul?

Enter—
and you shall find
hell or heaven within yourself."

like so many things,
it is a state of mind.
it comes from within.

a ricochet between worlds.  
a progression, a gradient, a spectrum.  

like a child’s mind,
it grows and grows and grows,
always evolving.

but it is most like
a flower:
even with the kindest elements,
it must flourish on its own.

Since when did we  
carve coffins
(with a coldness we can hibernate in)
out of each other’s cruelty?

Had i known gods perish
by their believers’ hand,
i would’ve stopped you from swearing
— on our mutual martyrdom —

“Cross my heart and
Hope to die.”

To Jess

The heat, the humidity,
And the bright blankness of the sky.

Handicapped by fear, not darkness.
Shaken, yet their bodies vigilant.

Bold crimson seared through the flesh
Like fresh sin bled into it.

A conspicuous scarlet letter.
I was a public display, a warning to all.

An audience of whispers whirled before me,
But I did not waver like they did.

Cross after cross, crisis after crisis,
Crucifixion made hands sandpaper dry.

My sentence was final. A full stop.
I danced with deadly weight.

I was hell itself. I had walked through fire.
My skin marked unforgiving constellations.

So what was that little light of yours,
To a shell dead inside?