Roses of glass fall from the skies
As, for you, Heaven weeps and cries
Nobel blood, crimson as dark wine
Drips down your still unbent spine
Your wings of ash, that overcame hate
Now broken and apart, as they were torn by fate
Sleep, sleep sweetheart, and dream of my love
That will always be beside you, when you'll rise above
Lay down, close your eyes, but do not cry
Because in my heart, you'll always be alive
Pillars of stone scratching in clouds of white
May you not be seen as ash, but phoenix bright
Finally raising to the sun and stars, that shine warm light
It has found an end, your everfight
Rest your head, too heavy to lift, in my lap
Close your eyes, close the gap
Now, sweetheart, rest in peace, and don't be afraid
You don't need no more to fight, you can drop your blade
Fall asleep, my sweet angel, that Heaven sent
Leave, go to Elysium, for this is not the end
Fly, and rise to the sun, elevated by this freedoms breeze
Run free, laugh, cry, and find a lasting peace

in her clenched hand
she held a rose,
recently wilted

i saw its thorns
dug into her palm
like wire barbed


small and unassuming
gasping for breath
she had the heavy scent
of gasoline
each iris was a lit match
and she laid her gaze on me

let me be your fuel,
burn me down
and lament over the ashes

At first light, I turn my head
towards an open window
and listen to the dove’s lament.
I know his pain. I know his cry.

He weeps in such a way
that makes me wish
I could answer,
but only God or another dove
can heed that call.

I turn my head away from the window,
pull warm covers back over my ears
and wait for him to fly away.

There is
a foul taste
in my mouth

A cave with circus
elephants in my chest

A sinking ship
in my stomach

A grieving cloud
in my tearful eyes

It is as though I
have died after you

one: "mom"

crossing the line she had drawn in the sand
cussing me out from holding my hand
these rules and lies all she made up
her chalice of fire scorching my cup

rue the day she came to know
the silent demon hid in my soul
pushing memories out of the way
and succumb to a chasm of arid dismay

two: "rules"

forget the burning in your *****
forget the cursed mine of coins
forget the lashings from her lips
forget the sinner b'twixt my hips

eyes that sting when open too long
voice that scratches when given song
bodies that itch for cursed delights
heart that relates pleasure and fright

three: "Mary"

blessed are they that feel the burn
holy is she that ignores the yearn
but what should she get for crossing her thighs?
not honor nor respect, but labor and sighs

'sainthood becomes her,' the elders all say
'so honest! so pure! and see just how fair!'
whilst only yesterday they'd cursed the *****
remanded to outcast; covered no more.

night shocked me, again,
as I fell deeper,
and flown out like winds -
it had froze my sanity,
it stole my soul,
and that was the first night
in grief, I drowned,
soaked in night's down pouring -
shivering, shivering,
then, it shocked me again
the night has flickering lights
only to see me devour alive.

you were the one who
smiled at me from across the room
just to keep our secret.

you were the one who drove
and drove and drove endlessly just
to show me your favorite song.

you were the one who held my hand
under the blanket we shared
in a room full of people.

you were the one who got excited
when you thought that just maybe
i was excited too.

you were the one who held me as we woke
and would do things that
showed me you felt like yourself.

you were the one who showed a small bit
of who you really are
and left me scrambling for more—

and now you are the one who never calls,
the one who never looks,
and the one who never happened at all.

who are you to me?

After days at stretch
of his stoic distress,
of an endless time,
of their golden lapse,
that the dawn of an echo
of past souvenir
made way for a picture
of clarity and of fear.
Never, not once, it seemed
he was a part indeed
of the world that
had left him in dire need
of a path to walk
or a need to fulfill
the vision of visionaries
the oath of infidels.
A broken ship ever
aground in an empty bottle
protected by none
and threatened by the slightest tremble,
did he realize the folly
in his mind’s decree,
the doldrum is the curse
while the wind lets you free.

The cello strains;
It sobs with me.
Laments a love
That cannot be.

The minor keys
that cannot sing
Play mournful notes
On broken string

Until the end of this discord
A melody worth waiting on.
Such harmony is thus restored
For I shall see my love anon.