The vulgarity of language underwhelms me.
Blankly, I stare into the faces of others.
What is language?
I look to you, them, and I see nothing.
I want to make tangible the fluidity and beauty of my mind.
No.
In the face of eternity I weep.

I envisioned these days so often,
fearful of the independence soon to come.
Repression has surpassed to grant this favor
of forgetful remembrance –
or perhaps my memory you’ve stripped as well.

Loneliness stalks even the proudest of prey,
probing the crevices stashed deep away
to betray the very promises endemic to your core.


Now do I savor the silence I once abhorred.


I lie and I listen to the serenity all around,
obscurities of the day whispering from my walls
as an auburn Cardinal serenades from outside.

The moon beckons me near, apologetic murmurs
of her needless façade from the past –
a revered box fan underwhelms the silence
and disperses my diffused Siberian fir,
crips notes of pine and aromatic wintergreen
to soothe the comfort of my nightly routine.


Now do I know myself more than ever before.

if there’s a price tag on my heart
I guess it’s set too steep
I’ve often made a round at the auctions
Only to end and weep
For I think that perhaps the quality
Of the goods underwhelms for the price
When for half as costly you’d have a *****
Who looks about twice as nice.
And perhaps that is my problem,
That if they’re beautiful they must be a *****
Maybe I like myself so little,
That to like any other is a chore.
And maybe the price on my heart shouldn’t be set at all
Maybe I should be the one
With my heart, in love to fall.