hot cheeks burning
tears salty and sweet
run like wildfires
burning off the undergrowth
chasing woodland creatures
down to the streams
someday, we won't remember this

passion drained us so sweet
clear the pathways
ravage all the fields
burn down the bridges
pull down all the monuments
someday, we won't remember this

souls entwined as lovers
brought down to her knees
drained of all blood
stripped of dignities
laid bare to each
but never felt so free

i don't care what's right or wrong,
i won't try to understand.
let the devil take tomorrow
lord tonight I need a friend

light the match,
stoke the heat
feel the burning
(no one here will get out of this alive)
and, someday, we won't remember this...

We have time on our youth,
inches on our throat.
We have cleaned for years.

We swell to cry,
this does not fix us.

Flatter our unsoiled volitions!
Gorge our empty stomachs—
Martinet, our Big Brother!

We have cleaned for years.
“Clean til I say—
Satisfied.”

What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
—Something out of it, I think.

All are not taken; there are left behind
  Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring
  And make the daylight still a happy thing,
And tender voices, to make soft the wind:
But if it were not so—if I could find
  No love in all this world for comforting,
  Nor any path but hollowly did ring
Where ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoin’d;
And if, before those sepulchres unmoving
  I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb
Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)
Crying ‘Where are ye, O my loved and loving?’—
  I know a voice would sound, ‘Daughter, I AM.
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?’

Bare all to me she screamed
tell me it's not how it seems
lay it out like a well planned scheme

sounds escape me without a path
fall upon she with wrath
like a bloodless bloodbath

I just want an escape from
this reality I say
become a casualty, a tragedy 
by no other name but a travesty 

sickened by this thought
my faith becomes borrowed not bought
my life becomes learned not taught

take my soul turn it inside out
leave no question no doubt 
I am free I shout

like a battle amongst an endless war
who I am resides at my core
clip these wings and I still shall soar

But what of her whose heart is troubled by it,
The mother who would soothe and set him free,
Fearing the song’s storm-shaken ecstasy—
Oh, as the moon that has no power to quiet
The strong wind-driven sea.

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."

Girl down the way
Carrying large brown-bagged bottles of liquor,
Nectar to the saddest poets who
Consume,
Consume,
Consume,
In order to consort with the sordid, dichotomous entities,
Enticing visions of vicious enemies
Crouching, kneeling, fighting, feeling,
Fleeing at their visage-
Does she get the message?
One more night of drinking alone.
Calls a far-off friend,
Sad and ******.
She asks with a tragic shake in her voice,
“Where did I go wrong?”
In a New York loft she
Groans,
Sighs,
Fumbles over words
That might not mean a thing.
Emily finally declares,
“You are more,
So much more,
So much undeniably more to this world
Than the blood in your veins,
Than the letters in your name,
But the facts remain;
Sometimes you are in love,
But sometimes,
You are never the same.