“she sees the world in shades of red,” he muses. i’m not sure what he means, but i see the fascination in his eyes when he looks at her. or was it desire?

i open my mouth impulsively. “do you love her?”

he laughs softly and turns to look at me. “do you always ask questions to which you already know the answer?” there is a curiosity in his eyes when he looks at me, not in a she’s mysterious and lovely type of way, but rather in a she is nothing if not strange and unpredictable. i could wish it were the former, but i am more than content to simply keep him on his toes.

i look back at audessa, in all her bewildering beauty and rose tones, and for the first time feel no envy. “i wonder how intimate one must be with pain,” i murmur, “to wear it so beautifully.”

his smile falters ever so slightly as he glances back at audessa. “very intimate indeed.”

on the chance
I took my thumb and gouged
whichever eye was open
far enough to see death

undone
like the wide right eye of memphis,
weeping gasoline on the gashed grounds below

obitus, obitus

uncorked, I'll spill over
do they or do they not deserve it
for leaving me ajar?

they'll lie
and they'll take it to the grave
and their headstones will call me out by name

obscure, obfuscate

that last rattle of life from their lungs
push up from under their daisies
determine me buried

obitus, obitus

the overture,
the onus

just for chance
I'll open it once more
for the dance halogen gives behind me
for the bark of tread on ballast

one eye, one good one
to discern the cause of death

“truthfully, i'm not sure I ever loved him,” she says. i can see the glint of tears in her eyes, but it isn’t sadness as much as it is shame. she looks away. “but god, i loved the way he looked at me.”

“people used to describe me as innocent,” she said, gazing unaffectedly at her reflection. “i always thought that was bad. i tried to convince them otherwise.” she paused, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “these days i’d do anything for people to look at me like that.”

my perpetual discontent has eaten me alive for the last time. the hours i spend alone and wondering leave a burning sensation in my eyes and my throat and i wish there was another way to feel desirable and stop feeling the need to compete.  i wish i felt complete.

it is one thing to be seen and wanted and entirely another to be known and loved.

someone once told you that your bitterness was like dark chocolate,
a delicacy, something unusual and rich and exquisite.
i'm here to tell you that even the bitterest of chocolate is sweet
compared to you.

apology... accepted.
how is it i am meant to return fire with
a smile
i take every blow with the grace
i could never find in you.
do you rip kindness out of me
for the hell of it
or because you can't find
your own?

obsequious bitterness
cawed of your hallowed mask
take 5 steps and
disappear

cakes in the oven, save
for the life after next, save,

footsteps, tinnitus ring,
records and mulch


everyone cowers
  at the wasp on the bus
that's passed unnoticed on the open street

uneasy

orbits of flight
  inchoate rage
bashing its head against the windows
radicalization of blind corners
spectacle of death
coil and frisk


how miserable how unfortunate how tragic how mindless how unthinkable how predictable how impossible how  urgent how hopeless how uncomfortable how


tongue severed tie

the centre expands, ossifies,
swallows and dissolves

best leave the dead to speak for themselves, they've
history on their side
  after all


inflected bias
in silent tears


if only  i could drown the whole world in melancholy


siren wail
   nervous tinder and pike
buzz and clutter


everyone
  waves their arms in discomfort, but
otherwise sits still


the irrefutable materiality of inertia




the bus drives on