She claims she's broken

choking on the last words she said to him


All her life is but a dream

and no one knows just what it means


To hold this broken beauty in your arms

if only for a moment


And in that instant,

all of these ancient feelings

come flooding back


All the hurt of past lives,

all of the attachment

and passion

of returning to love


All of the times

we decided it'd be best

to put our brains in the bottle

and contain our ways


The feeling stays awake

in the form of

diluted memory

and bruised skin


The feeling stays awake

like I do,

lonely as the night


The only living thing

born dead


And it feels just right


The feeling stays awake like I do,

all night,

thinking of you

and your poison stare


Let me swallow you

and burn my throat

on your existence


Let me close,

if only for a moment


Let me in,

I promise you'll enjoy it


Since all we want to do is forget,

And bite our skin

with frozen passion,

we'll give up


Surrender to the dirt brown

carpet on the floor

and lay there forever


Since all we want to do is forget,


"Only for a moment"

Is all we'll get

I tremble because I am not the breeze,
because I will never be the the auburn sunset on the surf,
because I will never be as cleansing as the rain.

I weep because I can not nurture half as much as the soil,
and because I have not solidified enough to be a stone.

My mundane body quakes with despair;
because I am too complex to be as simple as the clouds,
and I will never break as beautifully as a barreling wave.

I am terrified because I don't know if I will ever be more than Human.

Lover sitting on the shower floor
spits at the drain,
watches it circle away between his feet.

I tell him to close his eyes
as I point the spray at his hair,
pull out the caked-dirt tangles.

I scrub at his back until it's red and raw,
and a thin trickle of blood
from a pimple or an ingrown hair
dances down the steps of his spine.

I could bathe him
in all the world's finest oils,
until the cacophony of fragrances
made my head spin
and he would still tell me that
I missed a spot.

Wrapped in a towel,
he asks me why I
do the things I do.

I say nothing,
and wipe a speck of grime
from his wet, swollen cheek.