Listening to light as it arrives from the deepest past,
   only to be stricken by the dark,
   as it passed the last mile
Seeing voices bound by etchings on a tombstone,
   only to be silenced by memories,
   that forgot how to smile
Touching wind storms demanding audience with me now,
   only to be shepherded into balloons,
   that can only float and beguile
Climbing waves of torrent driven by images of sparkling sands
   only to be reminded once again,
   of the futility of living in exile

forgive me for having nothing to offer
i am sum total of
bad poems
and good intentions

nonetheless
each word
each thought
i will always up dedicating to
you
you
you

The rain beat down like a ferocious lover
On cracked windows
And creased curtains.
Barren and dry outside
This tumultuous storm
Lay inside my eyes and kept
The raging wildfire abreast
If only momentarily.
Sorrow as my only defense mechanism
Pleading innocence and defeat
I may be laying low
For a week or more
But I will not be beat.
Go ahead
And bring the heat that swells
In the late august
Of good intentions turned sour.
Age out all the promises
That have rot in the back room
Before ever reaching their destination.
We have reached the boiling point,
Now slipping into disintegration.
You were a caricature of yourself
And I, the animator.
Maybe I’ll see you later
When you’ve rearranged your display.
I think we’ve had enough
For today.
c.e.m. 2.9.14

Let my thoughts flow onto this paper. The pen is my surgical knife, the ink is my blood. I put everything i have into every letter and word this is my true love.

These lines on this paper are my addiction i cant stop at just one. Every exclamation point is like an earthquake or someone screaming in your face!

Every question mark is like turning down a one way road and ending up in the wrong place. Some sentences are written in code. Just leave me with this pen and paper and let me get in my zone..

sometimes it hits you
like you always expected it to
setting off a lightening storm in the delicacy of a kiss
waiting to hear how far from passion we are
in the sudden thunder rumbling my ribcage

i always counted the seconds before saying things I was afraid of
the logic of numbers would surely reconcile stupidity
one,
two,
i love, three,
you
when senses shock your body everything stops
slows
to the careful counting of each of your teeth as they appear in a grin
slower
to the roadtrip down the stretch of your fingers
and suddenly, all at once
the world runs to full speed
and catches up to my day dream
of you and I laughing hysterically
and suddenly, not a count to soon
you love me

And your kisses shot fireworks all through my veins but I swear to God baby it was the best pain

Burn me still, when you do,
With ink on the pads of my fingers
And with my meter scrawled hastily
On the centre of my ticklish palm,
And let me find my sour/sweet chaos
In the order you placed me into,
For I know now and will ever know;
In the madness, there is love.

I once knew a girl who dragged cheese graters across her ribs
just to hear them clatter against her skin
she would repeat on end:
if you hold your hand out the window long enough,
something might rip it out of its socket

when she was young she would poke the pin of a poppy under her palm on the 11th
and jump from one barrel of hay – she flew for three summers;
someone came one night last month and clad her in stone
her face was pressed in a pillow and she didn’t scream.

she pulled her nail back farther than it was meant to
she was told she’d see a map of her thoughts underneath
she just saw the marsh where the grass used to brush her
-- the pussywillows

if you push a button she will slide down a conveyor
right in front of you
you can take her clothes off with your teeth
put your ear near her mouth to feel –
proceed

a zoetrope of faces, bodies
if you press hard enough you might see
her blood line pulsing
if you find it, track its beat.