sent forth on a path of destruction,
the prince of war is parading  
through orange tides of
burning torches—
the funeral rites of
the dead king.

the engine of entropy spits out little
agents of chaos like bees from a hive.

they will sow
in time for the harvest
and when the sun rises to adorn
their naked, furry bodies
with golden dew,
they will shiver
in the remnants
of every dead star
before this one ends again.

a banshee from the ages
arrives as a missile of
determined suffering
set to detonate in close
proximity to the loose reins
of my forgotten destiny.

she wears a crown of roses
and embraces me with
her thorns
in the realm of Nature’s
loveless fawn—
a birthed, forgotten creature
gilded in silver linings
only to melt at
the feet of
God’s love.

I have cried rivers of tears
for people that have left
and all it does is drown
the land in a flood
of never memories
that keep me  
isolated in stagnancy.

the wet magic in my
blood is vaporizing from
my fingertips now,
the crackle of split
lightning spins through
my skyless eyes.

abbreviated life spans
chunked into pieces
of lives I never wanted to
live, yet helped form
me.

I see violence in the periphery—
muted and out of
focus.

oil-spitting broken android
smashing through houses
looking for his heart
before powering
down.

“I am clipped,”
she whispers.

“my wings don't lift me
anymore.

I am a trophy in a
cage.

I am atrophy in a
cage.

singing about the world
beyond these bars.

set me free—
I see the
window!

my flight feathers
will grow back
and I will leave you—
yes,
but I might return
and sing
to you about
that world beyond
the window.

I am not yours
to keep—
set me free!”

she commanded my heart,
so I did—

I set her free.

and she flew away
into the world
and left me
with a parting gift—

an open window
and a devastating song of silence
that echoes in my ribcage forever.

In seeing it all shrink about
My soul speaks mountains from a needle
For all the pointless pale attempts to wash out human pupils...

My glow is sealed with humble healers,
Ones who won’t get lost or wheel this
Realness in any kind of form/mess
A million messages sung, secret.

I can’t tread sand that hides,
Pretend I understand the croaking lullaby
Believe that we work for fun and always die...

When work is wild and worthy with time
I can’t sign, or stay silent,
With stars around me pulling brightness
Awkward -

Stay gripped by the kiss
Of wide window spirits...
Woken, can’t make a liquid stiff -
Stay outcast where the open love is.

When I was a child
I would watch from my window
as the other kids played in the courtyard
My mother said it was dangerous
That I shouldn’t mix with that kind of crowd
And so the idea was planted
that the world is far too dangerous
to be lived

silent night, holy night
free me from your brutal grip,
truthful grip, oh how I am falling
falling  
 falling
  falling
   falling
    falling
      to the wake of reality

time is a wave
pillow is depravity undeserved:
my head should rest in dreams alone
for races condemned to three hundred minutes of solitude do not have a second opportunity in past days

I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I      the stars are few tonight        I   Q. window window on the wall I       I        less for want of light              I    who's the weakest of them all?  I
I          than for having fled            I   A.  see for yourself                        I
I  the burden of being witnessed  I  Q. why can't you show me what I I              i too would dim               I   want to see?                                   I   I             if it meant no one              I  A.  0                                                 I  I         could name my sorrow        I   Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.Q.  I
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I

it shrouds me
this pale view of distances                     un-X-X-bridge-X-X-able
this nocturnal solo elegy                            ave falsus corpum
it brings me ever closer to death                                                    
my gentle repose

but do not pity me
even the darkening star burns
and the softest tremor in the chest
means i'm still reaching for something > 0
even if i call it sleep

so let me rest,
unmourned, remembered
for that dismal resilience;
bleak survival
through the depths of night
for one stanza longer

When I sat at my laptop one day, I heard my windows flip out. They weren’t happy with their salary.
  “Ours is too high! Give us less!”
  “Yeah, you’re spoiling us!”

I went on with my everyday tasks, however, I told myself:
  “Wait, why would I give them a salary, even?”

So I stopped paying them for at least 6 hours.

The next day, they were cloudy.

I said:
  “Where’s the sunlight?”

They responded:
  “Our salary is too low! Give more!”

I was, to be fair, extremely confused, yet it made sense. I opened a window halfway, and they groaned. I sprayed them with glass cleaner, and they wept.

I said:
  “Why do you always complain?”

The windows finally opened themselves, slowly, and said something that opened my eyes:
  “Because labor with no meaning is torture.”

Lazy *******.

At 6 o'clock on a Friday, I saw her.
Through the window, blocks away.
To and fro in her wooden swing,
She showered my soul's dry bay.

No care for the world, she sat there
This window blocked half my sight
Though distant, her miniature figure,
Felt cradled in my sight.

The sunset glistens her hazel eyes,
They shine as she parts her hair.
Yet time stood still as I watched her there,
A fleeting dream caught in the air.

It's raining outside right now. It's raining.
It's beating down the dust on silent pavements.
I waited you to come the day before.
Today I've realized it was bedevilment.

I've realized it when I saw your smile
In raindrops, flowing down the window,
Your pretty eye wrinkles, so tremulous and soft,
And you in whole, so false and so ridiculous.

Waiting for you, alas, is not my lot.
No yesterday or next day, and no later.
I hate the rain today! I really hate the rain!
There's so much pain in it. I stop to be a waiter.

I wake to walls I did not build,
A space too small, a name too still.
They call me by a voice not mine,
A shape I wear, but never will.

The world beyond hums soft and bright,
A distant place I’ve yet to claim.
I trace its edges in my mind—
A whispered truth without a name.

The mirror shifts, the cracks run deep,
Yet in them, something starts to grow.
Not wings, not fins, but something else—
A self I’ve always seemed to know.

So let the door be rusted shut,
Let silence press against my skin.
I’ll carve a window with my hands—
And let the light come pouring in.

Shimmering light, gleaning
In my eye, million
Shades of green
Among the trees
What is it
That I see?
When I look at you,
Is it a reflection of me?
Or an abstraction of you?
Is it really you,
That I am looking at,
Or am I looking at me,
Through a part of you?