trapped words that I cannot  
scrape from my mouth  
spread like poison.  
radiating tendrils  
running under skin.  

I stab the pen into my arm,  
draw out the black bile  
coursing my veins  

and use it for ink.  
pouring my pollution onto the page,  
scribbling the bleak and vicious  
cogitations  
the nefarious abstractions  
that dig into the hushed  
corners of my soul.  

I hope to drain myself-  
enough to return colour  
to my veins,  
bleed red once more;  
taste joy and love  
on my palette  
in place of ash,  
and the ruthless regret  
that clings to my tongue.  

I am fading,  
withering like a husk.  
I fear I will run out of ink
and find nothing red left

A coronation, watched by our entire great nation,
Some with trepidation, others boisterous jubilation.
Trump feted, his fawning family silhouetted,
Basking in his light, his confidence and might.

This Grand Old Party, it's followers vociferous and hearty,
Anointing their chosen man, to rule their ever-growing clan;
No harm to love a cause, giving thought and sometimes pause,
To what this passion brings, the words the siren sings.

Whereas strong leadership is good, it can be tainted just like food,
For democracy renounced, cannot then easily be found.
Let’s be careful what we wish, lest it be a poisoned dish,
Our founders crafted choice, beyond just
one resounding voice;

Autocracy is not a word, that in our Lexicon is heard,
We must vigilance ensure, for our country's story to endure.
Unity the dream, but like salmon in a raging stream,
Needs fortitude and grit, knowing when to fight and for the greater good, submit.

My dearest Angelina —

Your lips were as red
as the mistletoe that hung above us
on christmas eve;
Now your stomach was covered
with the color that I loved,
And your head hung low
when my blade pierced you
as it rained.

loving you was like surfing in a wave,
Its smooth movements guided me through the ocean
and the salt kissed my skin,
I became one with the water and with the wind,
the ocean became my home, and I loved it so dearly,
the sun beat me on my skin, and I was in my own little utopia,
but the sun became blistering, my skin bubbled in agony, and I cried at the injury,
the salt danced its way into the wounds and guided its painful path across my body until it reached my throat, suppressing my chokes and coaxed my voice into the abyss,
the water became violent. It no longer ran along me in light streams but rather,
it strangled me and repressed my screams,
loving you was like surfing, unexpectedly disturbing. You were so amazing and wonderful. You could be the light of my life and the one to knock my lights out,
it was either the sun was blazing, or the sun never came,
the ocean was either barren or it was dragging itself in harsh motions
the salt was either refreshing or so heavy my lungs teemed with sea salt, and I no longer had the capacity to cry; I couldn’t.
loving you...loving you was like surfing, but next time I see the ocean, I’ll take a boat instead.

My soul lies at the bottom of a cold glass bottle,
I live my life full throttle conscious and wild,
With unfathomable sorrow in the bottom of my scorned black heart,
I play fast and loose with love and idle madness,
Its the fruit of my life that gets me through.

Everyday is like Russian roulette in my mind,
Everyday I take a sip but the truth gets harder to find,
It doesn’t exist at the bottom of a bottle,
Yet everyday I desperately search for the answers,
Everyday I fall just a little behind,
It’s an unwinnable game that I constantly lose
everyday I slip closer to the end with no light in sight,
Yet it’s the little fruit of my life that helps get me through.

Sometimes I feel like a god, sometimes I feel like a roach in a pool,
Sometimes I feel like a king, sometimes I feel like a fool,
Sometimes I feel like the very essence of life,
sometimes I feel like the darkest cold death,
But it’s the spark in my lungs, it’s the fire in my stomach,
The Uniqueness! of my essence, and the freedom of my will,
but I’m still just a slave with a bullet in my head,
I have to drench my soul and drown my burdens,
For now it’s the fruit of my life that gets me through.

There is a shadow
over the world these days.
Maybe it's been there for a while,
it just took time to notice.

The flinching gazes of friends
nervous like grazing deer
in the open. Exposed,
like fraguile things
no longer confident.
Humanity seem to realize
how young we are.

The guns are loaded.

The blood is real

3
2
1

We are not ready.

And here it comes.

Autumnal Wanderings

Summer's heat leaves us wilted,
Potted tomatoes drying on the deck.
Water helps, and evening's shade
Reminds us of the coming dread.

Ash trees drop late summer's shed;
Yellow leaves litter grass now lost;
Dog days oppress us as we yawn,
Ennui of heat turns our desire to frost.

We are not content at summers' turning fall;
We miss the verdant greens of spring;
We dread the snow, the wintry cold;
No longer young, we fight our growing old.

i remember my own misery
like i remember my first kiss:
it was innocent, i was nervous
and it lingered for years

even now, navigating this ocean
of happiness, i remember hunger
and i am drowning in grief

i wish i had no memories;
even that kiss turned violent,
its softness still haunts me

God, i see smiles and hear their laughter;
why does mine not sound like theirs?
i fear my pain has tainted everything