the sorrow drips down like avenues
of cobbled mornings.
when you feel like writing a novel
but only manage a phrase--
when your thoughts can't make it past your brain,
let alone the page.
you breathe,
and exhale the frost that cracks the windowpane--
a touch and it shatters
the security and warmth,
to curl in bed and watch the stars on your ceiling.
the stars that blink out one by one
as your mind's eyes do.
but those of the human you love
supernova in front of you
your anchor to sentience ripped from the sea's
living room floor.
the living room, framed with pictures
of the ghosts and the whisperers--
and limbo' s pale door.

alas in my mind,
the last eye wanders down those avenues
and as your streets cobble too,
it shuts.

when you bite your lip and close your eyes
now I know why storms are named after people

creeping fingers,
crawling hands,
innocent at first--
innocent? not likely--
malicious more like.
the purity of your
polystyrene soul,
the unremitting cleanse,
the repent(the chase),
it's your lifeline. the
shocked look, saccharine power
held over tiny fawn--
****** clarity as they might,
oh dear incubus.
the power to end all
held in tiny fists.
this births not demon babes,
but a century of fear
and inadequacy.
downy kittens hardwired with
an inevitable self-destruct.
bring the world to it's knees,
incessant, indefatigable pathogen,
taking grasp of neurons, synapses.
good intentions yearned for the green light
while yours-- red as the blood rose
manifests in lovely lips
for eternity stained with **** wine--
the wine you brewed, you fermented
in the cellar of ******* and hatred.
the father, the son, and the holy spirit,
and the things that lie between.
blessed fingers, blessed breath
freezes as the stiff arms of your diocese.
hushed catholic whisper, angels to never
nearly achieve their wholly holy grail--
your kryptonite. secret looks, hasty deliverance,
catharsis.

Anything for a friend
Means not only petty favours
Or discounts on coffee.
Kindness, is it really?
At 3am, holding your hair back
Mouth waters, yearning for a taste
Of the promised land, so close.
Kindred matchstick kindle
Almost small enough to slip through the cracks.
"Malady, my lady, I have none."
Only silver strength and iron will.
Killing you with a smoulder, caressing lost lover
As surely as the nuMbing cOld finally maKes you feel anything at all.

when the medication wears off
what's left underneath?
is there a fault in your sadness?
or harsh metal between your teeth?

when you press the barrel to your head
whats going through your muddled mind?
have you finally achieved catharsis?
that one jewel you've yearned to find?

when you're lying on the bathroom floor
will you think of me?
or are you only excited for whats to come?
floating in the stars, gliding

(free)

how can i tell
the pleasure from the pain
when every searing teardrop
starts a hurricane?

"Lost in time, and lost in space, and meaning."


In the deepest damp trenches,

frigid air freezing jaded breath,

in clouds of caricature.

Where the lines blur

between mind palaces

and the lonely depths of outer space.

Where the wolf longs for forbidden paramour--

the moon.

Dented and worn,

battered, weak force,

caressing sweet dewdrops

that sear fevered flesh.

In these pits

Chronos sleeps,

light bends and refracts.

Whispers dance on bleeding tongues--

What is life to the leaves and grass?

Have the birds no concept

of solitude of the mind?

Not even Helios at his sharpest

could blanket the edges and hone warming craft,

to slip behind barred doors.

How frail one must be,

to seek the hollows of the earth--

to bow down to Erebus, to kiss his feet.

Lost in meaning,

and fumbling clarity.