Cruel lover,
did you know
that when you raked your nails
across my skin,
they were searing my soul -
every touch
became a burning trail
that lead to my heart,
beating to the rhythm
of your pulsating starlight?

Cruel lover,
did you know
that when you spoke my name
you cast a curse,
so that now when it is spoken,
it leaves a taste
of blood and ash,
of love and loss,
and sounds like the howling moonlight?

Cruel lover,
did you know
that when you reached for me
as the darkness was calling for you,
that your cries bound me
to the forest
filled with the shadows of your love,
never letting me leave
so you'd be able to always find me?

Cruel lover,
tell me this -
did you know
your love
would destroy?
And if you did,
why did you let me burn?

Finding myself in paper warped
by the ink from a stolen pen.

I lose it again in the lonely
void of smoke filled rooms.

Our need for a better vernacular
is a cup of tea sipped by our ghosts,
somewhere.

we can love if you will kiss the needle
just a little bit bigger-
your image isn’t your most beckoning quality
just a little bit thinner-
we can sleep if you will follow
just a little less brain-
don’t stand loud love, it isn’t becoming
just a little more tame//
stand straight but think alike
don’t stray or wander from the path ahead
walk in unison and stay uptight
basically, loveables are brain dead.
you don’t belong here.