i have such violent longings,
they are quite disquieting but
hardly disheartening

enough was never a destination i reached,
a thing i could acquire and hold in my hands
i was cursed from the birth with "more" on my tongue

i want your volcanic mouth
and all the dangerous things that come out

you leave me in ashes

the poet in me is lost
it left my body while i slept, while i wept
and the shades of life have since grown duller
colors reach out to touch me
they say see me, see me
i once filled your endless cup of a spirit
with something,
an awing otherness
but all i see is the pit from whence it ascended
it's just black, black and black

as for me, i am just the
moss,
overgrown and unnoticed
growing over that stone
you call a heart

an undeniable emptiness,
shake me and there will be
no rattle
the mice that
lived in me
have ceased their playful ways
when they broke their necks
seeking nourishment
fools futilely falling for
tricks tried and true
stuck on repeat repeat repeat

i have been practicing the art of
concealment
because i once thought that love
was a wide open field
where i could spin in careless circles
and scream at the top of my lungs
my every lucid thought
but have since realized
it is instead
a cold, haunted house
with creaking doors
that only open
with the hardest push
and the strongest of intentions
to get inside.

i am the honeybee, finally having enough of you swatting me away
giving you every ounce of poison i can gather in my stomach
and losing myself
in the process

we're going backwards; the universe
reverting back to a singularity
at once a bright star, i have
since collapsed
unto myself, to
nothing-
ness.