Can

we

talk

is a crooked question



Just

say it clear

without suppression



We've had at it now



We gave it all we got



And though I enjoyed our time around

I've thought it through and I have found



You are not

at all

what I initially thought



Babe you can say the same for me

but if you'd look closer, you would see



I did the best I could, I tried to treat you good



They say all good things must someday end

So now it's you and my supposed friends

I guess it all really depends



on whose the shiniest

and the most valuable

at the time

The gauzy nightdress caresses her thighs
as her bare arms, trembling feet defy
the gnawing, gnashing wind.
The world hangs below,
teetering on the edge of a cliff.
She turns, back to the open air;
taxicabs panic below her.
She tilts, arms whirling like pinwheels,
and falls into freedom.
Serenity, it seems, is found in flying,
if only for a moment.

I look at You
and I succumb,
I surrender:
all that I am
to all that is You

Sleep-walking, dream-gawking --

The daemons of centuries
sprawl out the hairs on their legs,
crawl into our skulls
through ears that hear
and bob their lobes
to the twang of sinew
threading together
the tongues of banshees
howling at the moon:

Leeches and ticks
crawl up our spine
when night mares gallop
through the swamp of maggots
crawling in the rye.

Eight and eight
still make one
when the knots are untied
and the gut is done:
All the unknowns,
the variable gales,
the possible parallels
and the impossible
imposters, two:
Fuel to the face of these fears

I look at You
and I succumb.
I surrender
to the daemons of centuries,
let them wash over in hues . . .

And I hold on,
because letting go,
this time,
is far more dangerous
than loving You

Is it not the death of eye
meeting death to eye
that ushers
Sacred offspring
out of the light
into the glowing arms of the womb?

Sleep-walking, dream-gawking --

I look at You
and I succumb.
I surrender:
all that I am
to all that is You

I am consumed, a convict of my own convictions.

I am tempted by a dead end road, knowing better than anyone where it goes.
I crave uncovered bones, and the dizzy dreams I once called home.
I fret I’ll never meet my goal, though I’ve given everything, I’ve sold my soul.

What’s the price of fragility?

How much would I pay, how far will I go?
I’ll go all the way, to be the thinnest girl you know.
It’s not about skinny, it’s about control.
I want to let the emptiness swallow me whole.

I want, I need, I crave these chains.
I’m too far-gone to save;
I’m already on the train.
Don’t tell me I’m insane
I know that life and love are pain.
Sick superiority you claim
So you can play your tricks and games
With the fragile fabric of our brains

It’s not fair
Its love and war
But I don’t love the things
That I’m fighting for
I hate the cravings
I hate that I’m past saving
and the way I've been behaving

You are hard to put into words.

You leave me speechless at times,
but the again, occasionally,
I have the daring urge to scream so loud at you that spittle flies.

More often than not though,
I just want to scream at myself.

The night sky and the stars and the moon question me.
Irresolution creeps to the basement of my soul,
snapping the homemade defenses in two.
Bile and tears climb my throat as shadow and trepidation crawl into my head.

Hidden secrets fester along with the feeling of emptiness.
That void eats positivity like a tiger eats deer:
stalking resolutely,
followed by a pounce,
and then teeth shredding everything to little bits.

The stars cry out for answers,
while the sky demands too much in order to maintain my sanity,
and the moon just gazes inquisitively,
wondering what darkness brought me to my knees.

Bright colors wash out in the moonlight while indecision clouds my perception.
Misunderstanding loops around all of my decisions;
death to all right-doing.