i careen between
thoughts of you and death
try to vocalize what i’m feeling
but you nod and digress

your words are shards i wish to digest
your love, a memory i wish to forget

Months of sweating
vetting every word written
Shivering over all
that remained hidden

Rocking back and forth
Recognising the demons scream
Asking to be fed more
Inside of empty dreams

Then the words, they spill
from cracked and broken lips
bleeding onto tissue paper
inking stains of fatal trips

Then comes the rush
a verbiage of torrential pain
Crouching on a backlit screen
pockmarked with finger stains

The first spike of adrenaline
fizzes inside a broken mind
The churning end to a journey
that has completely left you blind

Collapsing in upon itself
is the high that's found a low
and when the reader is gone
You wonder where you'll go?

Perhaps you'll find a new pusher
Someone else to feed your pain
Someone that will dig that needle
deep
even deeper into the vein

I must be blessed,
Surrounded by benevolent spirits,
Guarded by angels,
Watched by my ancestors before me.
This life cannot have been the first time we’ve met.
Some never find,
What we have discovered in each other.
We are a four leaf clover,
A needle in a haystack,
A rare and precious taonga,
A treasured gift.
We are perfect,
Immaculate.
In you I find a comfort,
That sometimes wanders from myself,
You are my closest companion,
and I learn so much
From the way that you are.
We are sisters,
Blood is irrelevant.
We are weird sisters,
Queer witchy feminists,
Living by self-developed norms,
Rather than societal,
The value of which cannot be overestimated.
Together we cannot be held back.
We are perfect,
Immaculate.
I will float with you
In our next life also.

My mind is a trick-seed sprouting in me
Runners wide run in rich but shallow soil
Each birthing things that were not meant to be
Deserted, parched they die as I recoil
A false womb am I and guilty tears shed
Over false dreams buried in open graves
Who will come to avenge the wanton dead
The miscarriages flow in scarlet waves
‘Had you but fed us,’ each cries out, ‘you could
Now reap.’ As weeds they rise from their dark holes
And invading, choking out new crops would
Paralyze this befuddled, barren soul
Who can supplant the worming roots, their cry
And fate other than death my dreams supply?

Fog drips slowly over rose colored mountains
like sap from a tall heartwood tree
Lavender skies burst to flames of burnt orange
as the sun reaches the horizon
The moon in waning gibbous
displayed boastfully
Sage brush blowing gently
sprouted from red dust  
on an indelible high desert morning.

Lovers winding through anomalous trails of mossy green forests
Sweet wisteria trees blossom on a brisk spring morning
They are dew drops born from the same storm cloud
split only to meet again
They slip through the cracks of the earth
Dampened and musky soil
...See how the flowers of the field grow...