Creative Writing
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Like each pang of burn, Like every drop of sweat, To be hung From my cheeks, from my chin, There is you in mind For no reason at all. For I cannot discern The origin of this feeling. I cannot tell From what Hell, This anger springs from. It is just there And will not…
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When the tears stop flowing From the two sponges kept in sockets Floating atop lakes, Nestled before a mind, Where I gave up the sight for life, And the only vision before me Is a fleeting one. I saw her form, Bleeding upon the shore. Shells were fleeing From their mother. She was the broken…
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If I was never a poet, Pain would be so easy to feel. If I was never a poet, I would not care to see the outline of your face Embedded deep in memory. If I was never a poet, I’d not have fingers to press buttons Merged in the emotions, where I let tears…
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I have no right to speak To the one I have crippled. To the one I have slain, To the one I have drained Of all her tears, in the next day when she Will come to kiss death, And speak aloud to the open, Words that berate upon when I hear them, Words that…
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She gave into the choice, Not by what I offered, Ever offered To her cold and collapsed heart. The choice to seal a noose about her throat, The choice to strangulate the remaining love From the stillest ruby. From the ruby with the least gleam, The least shine, The least sheen. A little blackness hovered…
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Let us start ourselves on a path Past the remembrances only seeped in the darkness. Dipped in the blackness of crudest oil That had polluted a current, so far back. I will love With many places to carve my name, For homes, and the shelters I build With hands made of iron. From spot to…
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What resides in the eye?It is first the whiteness, or the emptiness,It is next the universe, or the cycle,It is finally the blackness, in the center. For everything more than the knowledge we seek,Everything more than the creations we build,Is no more than a nothingness, when we recedeBack to the canvas. What of the darkness,…
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Love falls upwards Like convalescent, and reborn Unto the sunrise And receives God’s holy rays, like thunder from a chime Blown by the winds of sighs. I am still too much in love With her veins, With the silence where she danced To no music played. Still in love with the many smiles, once exhibited…
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The kiss was gentle Against her breast, Like under the whirling rush Of the current, Of the sigh, Against her cheek. She laid there for me, And in my faint recollection, I caught that the bed had immaculate white sheets Laid atop her flesh. She did not kiss back, Nor did she fan herself, from…
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Darkness is a brutal kindness In the coldest and warmest remembrances, Of each thing lapsed so far in the past, That I cannot tell What flavor are my tears. So much sheltered, Out of the cold, And so very bold When released, for me to see With eyes, ablaze On the only ever known cruelty.…
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She lurches forward to kiss Horrors into my scalp. Like one shadow let loose from lips buried In the redness of an apple, Plucked from the orchard to be bitten By how she encompasses Eve, as most sinister in shape. She follows wherever I travel, Where it be, in my mind or by my side,…
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I have not left the blue Of her tears. I only hold the shape close, Rectangular in form, and frivolous in its definition Of fate. I still deny The sentiment, Of what should be Left behind. In the moments I catch the raindrops That leave my eyes, I see where I splash, with my legs…
Modern Romanticism 