Are we
fated
to fall
apart?
For love is
an eruption of
l a v a
and
s i l k

Hand rolled cigarettes
help me to believe
that I am, in fragments,
an invincible boy
with a midnight grin.

Why do you sing the
song of ravens, can't you see
I am but a crow?

I left the doors open,
and the moths came in
looking for a light
there has never been
in this run-down house.

I am sitting in the dark
while they melt the felt
of the dress I never wore,
to the dance I never saw,
in the life I never lived...

She could blow smoke rings,
and was on a first name basis
with all the local punk bands.
I was emptying my chest
to hide her away, because if
her parents came inside and saw
my face between her legs,
they might think anything other
than love, love, love.

I do not care for these reparations,
or the consequences of creations
made by humanity's feeble mind;
turning clocks, winding time...

Small girls with empty palms,
begging for scraps, singing psalms
to a God who never replies,
to a man with vacant eyes.

She has butterflies for eyes
and candy corn for teeth,
rummaging through my innards
for anything she wants to keep;

like the omnipotent fingertips
of a sculptor with no name,
she sorts through my organs
like some twisted little game.