I came out as broken glass
Not a bottle, not a window, just glass
And I was told I was Broken.
But what if this is what I am?
I'm sharp and cut, and my pieces get broken smaller,
But that's what I am.
Broken.

- N. Morin

I relapsed last night
As the knife met my skin
and introduced itself
Over and over again.

I'm disappointed with myself
I shouldn't harm my skin
I'm losing every battle
Because I refuse to win.

- N. Morin

Speak to me softly
And tell me only lies
Tell me that you hate me
That I'm not worth your time.

You tell me that you love me
You tell me words so true
I look at you with hollow eyes
The saddest shade of blue.

- N. Morin

I can see the glue hole a minuscule thing
Helping me stay dry, I  thought you didn't know I've been drowning
Green trees, green moss, green tent
I miss waking every morning to pad my feet across the moist earth,
Off to search for something each day
Nostalgic, longing, yearning once again
I should've realized this would happen, it always happens
I miss even the prunes my hands became each day from the metal dishes
Japan, Montreal, France, Sri Lanka, Czech, Wales, Toronto, Iran, Mexico
Diverse languages, diverse people
I want to lay on the ***** sand of the lake or throw myself into the poisonous water and delight in your phrases
I don't need to understand them
I like the feeling of being gone, of being surrounded, of being free
But mostly of warm water on a happily drunk body

Stab me in the heart again
To prove that I'm not alive.
Long ago the feelings stopped
And my emotions died.
No tears are cried
My eyes are dry.
I'm waiting for this to end.

I'm happy though enough to say.
That I had at least one friend.

- N. Morin

Let me give you my armor
Take my sword and shield
I'll be your knight in skin
With only my words to wield.
When the armors worn and broken
You can take my skin as well
Tattered, scarred and broken
But for you I wouldn't yell.
And with you every word
That you picked from my throat
Melted in your hands
And filled your empty cup.
You drank a part of me
My words upon your tongue
They trickled down your mouth
But your heart had already sung.
The tune of someone else
Your song it wasn't mine
My heart was already shattered
But it broke differently this time.

- N. Morin

When the final leg falls out
There won't be any hope.
No ones here to hold you up
The catching of the rope.

- N. Morin

My eyes shut, then open.
We're in your room again.
Laughing. Talking.
You're looking at me.
With those eyes.
Those eyes.
Those.
Eyes.
They're beautiful.
I've never seen eyes like these.
They lock me in.
I can't look away.
I don't want to look away.
Then you say it.
" Do you want to kiss me? "
Of course.
It happens.
My lips meet yours.
I can feel your presence.
Warm on my skin.
My eyes were open, but open again.
I'm in bed.
And all I can think is.
I didn't die last night.

- N. Morin

Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,

sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone

prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self

failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.

Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths

measuring morin 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...

smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping

zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,

oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene

synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.

Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,

one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing

into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,

maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach

ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.

Breakups in the A.M./
Fall back to sleep/
Back caught a rusty blade in it/
Brain drizzle... permanent/
Cold vein ****** pulse cannon/
False idols shut the **** up/
Or get throat cancer/
Ahem/
I'll hack it out with a boxcutter/
Allaah, give me strength/
Let me **** Godzilla/
Manic Chainsaw Man in Morin Hotel/
Wear the devils down/
'Til they offer up their hearts/
Please make it stop/
Then I tear it apart/
Break the faucet off/
And bathe in the blood/
Yeah... The Force isn't with you/
Life is crystal skull disco inferno/
Death is withdrawal in a courtroom/
She's a drama generator/
With a broken off switch/
I don't go outside, I don't like ****/
Isolation tank alt reality check?/