who are you talking to under the harbour lights?
please say, "nobody but you" and steady my knees
when I ask, "where will we go?
you know my name, you know my heart, and my mind
I hope you know, you were my rock, never my stepping stone"

-c.j.

the devil we know will chase us until we get there
until the last page
(he stirs up all the rage)
back home there are no beds warm enough to
sustain us
worse, there is no wonder
english became devilspeak and there is no way
around the despicable revelry
so like ink we bleed, pages thick
at least until satan's clock ceases to tick

-c.j.

stay free of the weight of love
unless you find it sweeter to wait
for somebody new, foreign heartbeats
in a pocket of air or a fortune cookie
lucky molecules that match your love

-c.j.

isn't the wall at the door supposed to end up
in the fireplace?
the chimney beckons him and he obliges and
continues to whistle the chorus of his death march
thinking he'd sleep like a baby tonight

-c.j.

always ready to tuck the darkness in so
it has no way of painting four walls,
no way of seizing her spirit

-c.j.

her cherry lips are red in the grey
she could easily be atop a cake, pinned with
a wire, waiting on a table at the after-party
when most want wild, she prays for peace
she seeks purity when others settle for filth,
painting their souls black
beauty is her gift, beauty is something they buy
the spectrum she sees is whole, and she tries
to magnify their sights, turn them away from
the fruitless fractions

-c.j.

memories from the basement DC:
pacing to find a signal, daydreaming about you,
stepping out the glass sliding door,
hoping the open sky could give me something
locking myself out in the cold dark November
night, rolling my eyes and muttering, "I can't find entrance,"
and feeling beyond clueless as I walked past the cars in the
steep driveway, thinking,
this isn't something you do for just a crush

-c.j.