My lying serpent,
you insist upon the way you glare,
the sickle of your teeth sinking into my skin,
veins protruding from my wrists.
You’re sliding up behind me,
draping over my shoulder.
You, Atopos shearing threads of my hair
pressing your tongue to the back of my neck,
watching with naked eyes.
You, breathing hot breath, searing my nape,
eroding my body at every expire.

A different room sleeps
under the edge of the water
It’s windows glistening, the sunlight like a hot breath
fogging the glass
beneath the jumping meniscus.
for even still water is
never quite still.
The Newton's cradle
The rocking of an unknown world.

My lover's eyes glow as the morning sun-
That peaks its head above the evergreens
And yet shine on as daylight comes undone
And still, persist within my nightly dreams.

My lover's hands are delicate as snow-
That twirls onto the fields without a sound
And every bit as graceful are her toes
That bear her lovely shape across the ground

My lover's lips are red as hungry fire
That dance across my skin with every kiss
And warm my chest with unrestrained desire
That leaves me in a breathless state of bliss

But when she speaks, her lips no longer pursed
All that her beauty’s done is soon reversed.

By way of a kiss
That empty can be full
You lead this dance
And I will follow

If this was the middle of the desert
your words would be a mirage
but, I am happy to fall for them
entangled in your web of fake metaphors.

you backseat drive my mind
until I don't know the right way to go
on my own
until I don't know how to turn left
without your ever present hand guiding the wheel

we meet on opposite edges of a lake
yelling so we can hear
each other and it takes all to long
for me to realize we aren't speaking the same language

if this was the middle of the desert
we would be stumbling up dunes
our feet finding footing
and then slipping once again

it feels like I'm walking and getting nowhere
like no matter how far I lug my feet behind me I am still the same distance
from the top

and you're standing there with a haughty
salute
or a bottle of water
repeating "Just one more step."

if this was the middle of a desert
your words would be a mirage
so why do I keep telling myself: "just one more step."
when I know I'll never get there

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
They told her
As she dug her fingernails deep into her skin
Like her flesh was made out of playdoh
In the uncautious hands of a toddler.
Her life balances dangerously on her tongue,
steadied only by a love she will not swallow
For she has been told
“Too much sugar will rot your teeth.”

She has a heart that beats like the constant rolling of the waves
That kicks against her mother’s chest as to always assure her
“I am here, Mom”
Her mother hears,
while stretching out her swollen legs in the bath.

She has bones as fragile as a rose stem
Her eyes drooping like petals
She plucks her mother’s breast
With her sleepy mouth as to always assure her
“I need you, Mom”

She touches the buds
of her blossoming fingers to her mother’s heart,
stumbles with her pudgy little legs,
teeters, slips, crashes down to the floor
And still manages to avoid the cracks in the
Pavement,
on her mother’s aching back
As if to assure her
“I love you, Mom”