time has melted into molasses and i
am lost in the meaninglessness
of artificial
pleasure.
every truth scrapes
my stomach like shards
of glass
in the mirror i broke
denying myself.
identity is what you
call it, what you see,
what you allow
yourself
to be.
someone told me if you
drink too much honey all
at once
you die, it clogs your throat
and you choke because air
can't get through
all the honey.
i wonder if the same is true
for molasses.
time has melted and i
hold the flame, this spoonful
of molasses
sits on my tongue
until
i forget
my name.

How can you believe my eyes?
magic seeks the commonplace
morning light has passed us by
bitten tongues will bleed disgrace

All this light is empty space
illumination at a price
I don't care to show my face
how can you believe my eyes?

Left your home seeking the light
tragic, gone without a trace
stars are wandering tonight
magic seeks the commonplace

Host of a forgotten place
lost the vision to your sight
new moon waxing as it wanes
morning light has passed us by

Angels mourn the devil's night
beauty lies in fallen grace
frozen flames are burning bright
bitten tongues will bleed disgrace

Look upon my hollowed face
anemic bones can bear no lies
torn by your spellbinding ways
show me your pale heart this night

Then, I might believe my eyes

The lunacy of
touching you, to plug a-
hole, in your innocence.

I wanted to explore
the horizon in your eyes,
where sun meets moon,
in graveyard of sins
and virtues.

Before you had become
my shadow, I used to smell
a distant scent coming
from a slithering
wet body.

I fumble for the words
for mercy of pain. My desert
was once a sea.

I know you know
this universe is old
and life is but a wrinkle
in time and me, I’m
not yet a twinkle
in my long gone father’s eyes
compared to those blinking night
skies, but let me tell you
friends,  when the fog
rolls in off of Dead Woman Shoals
all damp and **** cold
as the nose on my black dog
when it calls out to the moon
its mouth a deep hole, dark
as doom, a howling for
a galaxy, a dying star born
to be swallowed
bones all ribbed and rowed
a wind chime clacking
on the back porch alone
when nary a breeze blows.