Weak beneath
Where glass
Wears itself thin
In dark reflection.
A mind that finds easy meaning
In decaying truth,
In hands that pull back
From the stem of a thorn,
From the red of a rose.
I keep what is painful upon drunken times,
Weeping in shadowed pillows.
Find me,
I will be near and nowhere.
I will be wilting in the bathtub
Cleaning stains,
The memories that are deep below
In the mire, in the place where caskets
Hold flowers in a burned meadow.
Sleep near to me,
While sadness draws its line
Around my aching form.
Lost symmetry
In the shapes that keep repeating.
What wills
Love to keep eyeing
A soul that topples
Towers?
Some shadow did extend.
Some lips were kissed.
At the end of a long road,
Beauty is the burial
To crippled flesh, wrapped in thorns,
Wrapped in the sentiment from worms.
Modern Romanticism 