~
Apathetic city skyline
This must be Drum Street
There's critical thinking
Digital tendencies

Pigeons on the roof
Kids in the library
Hail and flashpoint
Homeroom
Their final resting place

Who of you misses the bleak missiles of youth?
And how they used to hit like needles?

I can count your sufferings on my fingers
See them hidden in the tall grass
They move in secret
With shadow blister
As much as the caterpillar:
Elusive and eruciform

Sixteen crane wives
Collect on the guide wire
Their weathered plumage
Strangely displayed

Airplane debris on an uncharted wild
Macabre flowers growing out of air masks, gone quiet
The magic word is drear
It's a sorrow-filled caw
As if feathers from the grave
Clothing our fears

I can count the flock on my fingers
See them separate in mid-flight
Each a solitary path
Fusing rage and grief
Each a solitary path
Fusing rage and grief
~

~
Corrosive elevation
Metabolic creation
At the mouth of cough drop falls
Trails of caustic, nomadic influence:
Coffee lips
Decaffeinated tongue
Resealable groove
Reusable embryo
White hunter
Melt snow
Hang fire
Black crow

Mechanical peak
Summit on a stick
Chiseled grey
The smoke ascending
They call "day"
Lovely shade of sadness, this
Wandering endocarp
Hidden in caves, hollows, crags, cellars, and cisterns
It came naked
From out of the acrid woods
And said

"The locust are upon us..."
~

~
Weddings and honeycombs.
Why do they give us the hives?
The keeper knows.

There's a buzz in the air.
It belongs to
the rudimentary happinesses:
The minor miracle of father's smile,
a morning breath of honey,
painting toy lips with
blood from mother's finger.

Deathless protagonists,
Mom and Dad,
our propolis.
They love us from afar.
They love us with what they are.

There's a buzz in the air.
There must bee!
They can't help loving
us little monsters,
who sting
and then say goodbye,
sting and say goodbye.

A linn begins to form
in the corner of their eye,
as wheat fields sway in the wind.

The innocent
and the beautiful
have no enemy, but time.
~

I fall in love ever so quickly
I always have
It happens in an instant, it cuts, it stings and it leaves me with marks
The loves either leave me with an itchy scab that bleeds and peels away after a short period of time
Or the loves leave me with a scar that remains and shows everyone I’ve been a victim of something tragic
But perhaps, maybe just this once, the love will leave me with a scar that’s a reminder that something beautiful and deep has happened to me
Perhaps this time the scar is not a throwback to tragedy, but instead an ode to a future of stoic and life lasting connection

i want the storm to dissolve me
i want to melt into a puddle on the broken concrete
i want ripples to fall on my surface
i want to tremble when cars drive by
people to step in me without a care
children to splash
and dogs to drink
i want to be a puddle on a winter afternoon
i want the raindrops to expand me
until i trickle down the sidewalk
through that cracks in the pavement
and down the curb
i want to fall onto the street
and let the wind push me far, far away

air bubbles float with ocean foam
each time my breath escapes

my lungs deflate
my vision shakes

body sinking
suffocating

i try to survive off of air bubbles
because it's all i have left

a river

narrow
winding
i watch you turn

you look like you'd hurt me
but how can i be sure
you could be what saves me

voices warn me to step away
so i don't get swept in your tide
they try to push me
but you pull me closer

i chase after you
to understand you
but you're a maze

narrow
winding
i watch you turn and turn again

shallow
but you'd drown me if i let you


heavens, do i want to drown?

On one Summer day
a girl was wearing her heart
on her sleeves

She planted her gardens;
watered them sincerely
day by day

With each day goes by,
some people sneak a peek
into her blossoming flowers

Yet, no one bothers
to step even further
beyond the facade

She couldn’t help but wonder
why do people tend to admire
the beauty from the outside?

While the true beauty,
lies from within—
as it’s never about what it seems

And she thought,
even when her garden is flawed
it is at least, well taken care of