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Fatal, in your burialbeneath the stay with me.You wash the stars cleanturning white slates into bleakestreminder of your universe. You walk in the fog.You look for me,bandaging eyes most damagedunder the cloudless skies. Do you bare your woundswith pride or shame?The crimson to the neglectis the connection to bloodline. Leaving your scarsetched in the dirt.You…
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Out of time. Hellish and confined.The clock stirs, in silenceto the quickening sound of a heartbeatwhile flowers are hurledevery thousand feet. The winds are mild,no one will catch this feverI have been trying to kiss away. One more tick to the placementof a brick, to make this wallsurrounding every color. A garden burned, smotheredwhile time…
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I For Sickness, for Shame The time has come. The time did come. When bedsheets are folded over as pages of a Bible, turning to scriptures written to the weight of loss in the heaviness of the physical copy; and the water comes to take the end away. The sun rose, and then it was…
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Mothers tosslast remains of comfort,nestled to their sonsnestled in the sun.Some Reaperbrought them to sleep.Somewhere in Hell,the fire yellsthe sounds for the knell,as the funeral burns, to thewalks towards the sea. As all masked facesare singing for lifelessness,in the emotionlessstances, to the stance of the patriotwarring to the war of caught soilin their eyes. As…
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Feint. Ingloriousto the thuds of formsagainst the gentle earth.One blooming pair of lipsare rounded in flesh,born to undressone body dressed in black. With all the tears of Neptune,sighing in eternity’s doom.For arms, lovers walkedwithout miles to skip.Under stars, lovers talkedcaught in the moonlight’s anchorthat brought them buriedelsewhere. For toil,above the soil,she carried his heartfar into…
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I keep buriedall the glass reflections,all the emotions bled, upon a seaof red. Will the earth feel,in its stretch of shadowsfrom trees?I wander in this falling sleep,hoping for another mileto keep me deep. Drag the form throughthe trail. And with sight upona scorning sun againstmy brow, I strangle the words open,“In the shape of what…
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Two gracesyou burn through.All with the hunger for summer,and with the eyes. The eyesthat see the sun as another tear. Have patience.We will see the sunbefore it setsto the empty pageremaining frozen in your heart. Was summer the other autumn,or the winter without the clovers?Was it the bright sight,or the luck without the drawof cards…
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The moon rises.The sun takes the fallinto the deep sea,the open sore.I can believea sight as you will make mesee the sea, as I breatheyour words. Your lipsopen for sigh with criesfalling as petals from your eyes.A masked emotion, a clown’srehearsed laugh.If you see,I will accept the seafor its open embracein the depth of our…
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When wewalked overboard, were wefalling through?Heart within heart?Against the silver of malleable eyes,were we ever able, ever stablethrough the rapids of rivers,seeing us on reflections? No longer kiss,no further walkon the boardwalk carved outof drying mud. We have screameduntil false voices are filteringour bent forms,with no submission.Among all the puddles of raindropswe let loose from…
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Why have you? Walking inpuddles, creating circles with yourfeet in the halo of retreat.Wading in a heart. Talking incircles that seal the lines, the openwounds, the scars.Sealing the center, the spotwhere we both never mattered – in the moment of believingour eyes were seeing the same. In the moment of findingfog for dreams,there is the…
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A hand uponall I can count on,this heart that keepsitself beating.I no longer smile,while the moon has becomethe color of her lips.I no longer crywhen autumn decays around me,for me. Still, this handremains upon this chest,with a heart buried in sand,a treasure of more depththan the ocean it crossed. While I breathe,continue, as I implore…
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Even while piling higher,faces come around, drown aroundthe last breath at the dawnof a morning that never surfaced.All there is, the mourningwaking potential smiles to recedewith the farewells, to welcometears at the earliest arrivalof unwelcomed sunlight. They bellowat the reprimand of aplight of sorrow.Ingrown in the diseaseof grief, full in the sickness,while their eyes turn…
Modern Romanticism 