out I burned
down I collapsed
in I nirvanad
off I set.

Waves of welter aligned to rewind
losing the weight of mind.
Swear I won’t fall again
But this isn’t feel like falling
Gravity can't forget
to pull me back to ground again.

The tune was arising until it’s fading.
The image is grounded until it’s leaned.
The voyager was granted until it’s strayed.
The eyes were flicked until it’s shut.

The hands were clutched until it’s fumbled.
The sight was stretching until it’s blurring.
The breath was pacing until it’s muddled.
The heart was harboring until it’s shivered.

The butterfly was fluttering until it’s tethered.
Sinking, surging, swirling,
There I was, though no one noticed.
Not even my ashes afloat.

Breeze nestled on wings of cradle
Shade blurred in a beam of surge
Petals flicked off stumble
Thorns unfolded to prattle

Fallen angles tethered
sinful to light the
darkened feather
As it fell to fly

Poetry isn’t something you smoke in secret.
It isn’t a drama struck on the tip of a match.
It is nothing at all
once the heart stops beating.

You don’t get to read me
as if you already know.
Not with that softened gaze,
not with lungs left hollow.

Poetry isn’t smoked—
yet somehow
you inhale it endlessly,
left with dizziness spun from metaphor,
with whirlwinds of silence
that burn,
or else
ache
quietly.

you were the spark
a candle lit
from both ends
beautiful yet
so fragile
there was a part
of me that wanted to
reach out to you,
body ablaze
but I took my hand
back and let you
burn alive.

i circle the sun
inching closer
it lets me in
giving me a taste of the golden glory
and i burn blissfully
i burn-
for you.

suddenly the wings are a furnace
plumes unspooling to ashes
my soul - annihilated.
i fall, a comet without a name,
worse off than when i first came.

I swirl the stress, turn
pirouette in my veins.
It is fuel for my fire.
I breathe in, out.
shallow,
yet crisp
the smell of burning
leaves on a brisk
autumn day.


I am the flame,
won't you put
me out?