If you try
to close your eye
and keep your thoughts
in to think
Take care
not to sleep
in too deep
at a flicker of a slightest

blink

I’ve fallen asleep
many times
lying down

ink and paper in hand

To find my thoughts
splattered around
so I’ve learned to write
while I stand

try
to not lie
and write
the right
way up

You may find
thoughts like mine
spill

and never stop

by the time
you have this read
you’ll think it’s in my head

so no…it’s

dripping down

You will find
It’s not in
my mind
but
in my toes

flowing on the ground.

the quiet thinly films over these sheets;
i press my cheek on the pillow — soundless, it hears me.
i rest my dusk-dimmed mourning on quiescent tiles,
and the crickets cannot stand the
silence — it recognizes now the thoughts,
much better than poems can.

i have taken this wordless fall,
hands tied behind my back,
feet tied, tongue-tied
down these sweet, senseless,
daffodil deliriums

i have taken this wordless fall
away, unseen, i land in grace —
this is the last noise i will ever make.

the world ends: it looks like an empty bed,
sheets running under your body the night before,
a faux lace dress caught in aventurine nails —
it fits like a memory, clings like an emptiness worn well.

together, we turned our backs on the saints,
but i pray to them like i haven't
forgotten a word; surely,
a plea is bound to keep you here
just long enough for me to forget:

the world ends: it looks like the corner table
where i last saw you; i pocket
my dizzying daydreams from across the street
and walk past a wormhole.

the world ends: it looks like wounded lips — pink daffodils
drunk on the slight touch of our fingers;
nothing heals from this.
new lovers will zip my skin open so carefully, with their
untainted hands
and find you buried; i never loved you
is all i say.

the world ends: it looks like a forgotten year
and some souls are always the first ones to leave
but i empty my veins, dredge up relics of your presence —
it still leaves me
disconcerted, breathless;
i pour my love in a letter, in paper flowers
and my tainted hands still find you buried:
a secret i can never keep
so i let you go
is all i say.

pour sunlight down my throat, it burns
like a whiskey secret taken to grave: my chest

is a bed of incarnadine moss
where i retire and lie, not knowing — waiting for
death or life, for
words to be purified by fire
the size of my live-coal heart;

what is there to write
out of it anyway? after all,
i am now incomprehensible to myself.

here, i confess my sins, absurd in their triviality,
but the sky hears, declares a sentence, unforgiving.
i cannot hear, for

i am now incomprehensible to myself
as i **** my nails clean of dirt, of meaning,
like a poem; emptiness is just a blank slate
not knowing where it's headed.

here, sunsets lick my bones clean — its tongue has long stopped burning
from inside the numbing walls
of a coffin: my skin is the pall draped over —
aventurescent-white under the fevered sun.

the stars weep over all the terrible ways i have loved you —
dress you in their light caught
in my aprium kisses and cigarette daydreams.
empty my ametrine veins,
disembodied to hold your bones together —
kiss you, break me, leave me
burning and trapped in a lantern room; watch me
sink ships to come back to your arms; you've always waited.
and they all still weep and fall
over all the terrible ways i'll still love you

long after they die.

i have inherited pandora's careless melancholy, her tiny box of regrets, her white-washed, quiet horrors and terrible decisions — staining like a memory passed down from her reckless hands to my old, ***** claws, digging for something raw, something parasitic, something miserable, something always goes wrong beneath my ribs. it wants out, like a beast, a misplace fragment, an aphid. and these days turn their heads away — blur themselves blind before my many blunders.

before the wrath of a false god, will my bones ever learn the art of being unapologetic?

to love all of you within the noiseless half of a sigh is a time-swept fever dream stirring in my fists — part firework smoke, part lavenders, part quiet, cautious limerence. how you enchant and unsettle me — i run high and aimless, and free fall in seconds. i am smitten. desperate. love-sick. wordless now, for all i care, darling — i'll leave all of my poems strewn in your bed, like a girl shedding her mortality before a goddess in her truest form.


to disrupt this is a human blunder. to bask in it, divine. ♡