Writing
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Born into those brittle flakes. Inside shelter, where all such dustattempts to intrude, while I haveremained here to eludewhat melts into tearsbeneath a morning’s sun – another infant above those clouds,granting warmth to quivering palms. Another face, born into a different daywhile time has frozen where I stay. Another light, screamingto keep me calm. Another…
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Not knowing. Never sharinguncovered scars, we are foreverburied in bleeding arms, pondering on thosemerging possibilities. Have wefelt more than a universe,creating and recreatingstars that gleam like tearson edges of extended flesh? Reaching palmswant to tear free a diamondfrom a measureless sky.Though we can utter our vows,while we eclipse the sadness,we still stain these night-timeswith disconnectionswe…
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I hoped that ifthis world never barricaded usfrom heated moments, beneath, unseen from sole torment,we’d reside. Encased in oceanic coldness,though buried in volcanic arms, concealed in truest warmth,wielding torches in either hand. I hoped that ifwater kept us flowing overboard,we’d meet at an ocean’s bottom,buried under Mankind’s tears –because light was never theirs,as light had…
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Returning to those dangers. Returningwith those letters, written without promise,written with ink of a depleted heart,one that remains black,like thunderclouds, like raven shrouds,like desertions in the desert skieswhere wind has no direction. Bring back your stare,let me confine myself to the velvetin your blue, discolored eyesgoing from an oceaninto a paranoid monochrome. Returning to those…
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Pioneer the loss, while you fadein this dimming heart’s flame, I shoulder what I’ve always cradled,keeping you companyin the sickness, in those tearstains – hanging onto your chinwith a man’s deformed touch,with remnants of our fire. Hang by every droplet,let your hands soak in imagerysettled into puddles, within soilthat have absorbed our reflections, though have…
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Silenced heartbeat. Awakened reprieve.I, once more, hold a token for another trainthat will travel me towards that edge,outside of this space of sanity. One more kiss, sent towards barest air,with shelter toppling into burning sticks.One more light of passionfrom another wakeful lighthouse,guiding this engine into devastation. I will want to hear these limbsfade out of…
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Cold stardom. Left adrift, bleeding currentsgray with the wash of afterglow.I let you ignite, become white with the night’scomforting fairies. Though, I will dreamwithout leading that stone into future steps, not that heart that kept sinkinginto puddles from these red-rimmed eyes. No more to us, what kept merginginto firestorms – after showers that weremore than…
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Mishandling the melody. The memoryof us, burning undercover, in those shadows,infiltrating – stepping towards a futurewe painted, then we tainted our road with snowwith tracks we could not retrace,within warmth where wewere unable to embrace, deep undercovers both black and blue,in an ocean of a nestled two. Twin’s hearts longing in the longstretches of feverish…
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To touch that faint silhouette. Sublime shadowundressing to a desertion of garments she wore –kissed into ashes, bled into driest wine,turned into tides at folds with flesh, with death –the death in that revealing aftermath, an aftershock. What’s left in this ruin of another heart?Quakes are those years I followto a broken majesty’s throne, where…
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No need. Most certainly,no need to hear me clarifywhere my suffering should,most certainly should be rectified.I weep when I cannot sleep,letting stars fall from each eveninginto cupped hands. I let another daypass with the petals that format the stems within vases,on the edge of tablesI cannot even reach. No more. Most definitely,there is no need…
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Who says that, in time,a light this close will flare out,will wrap what has been as distantas those ships that carry on,carry out another moment of remorse,another memory I compel to beas fleeting as me? I have been the lighthouse, too longhoping for one more reunion.Though I’m abandoned, like this islandthat has been forgotten, though…
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Lantern shadows, to eyesthat melt in these breathing rooms,while I hold on to the fadein the form of a silver handbroken from its strength,left to quiver among autumn leaves. I kissed once what feltlike a period of thunder in the grayaftermath, between night and day. I told what was evil, “no more”,feeling my fever become…
Modern Romanticism 