To those who should live when our stars collide,
Suffocating innocence is but a dying light.
Labyrinth of the Physical FormYou dare to wander throughout the catacombs
And search every scum-filled corner
In search of something you may never find.
For the blood dripping down the walls will stain your white shirt
And the grim underneath will wear your feet down.
You'll become entangled in the tendrils of my faults,
And the sins will ensnare you in a death grip.
The air is suffocating
And the walls drip with poison of the mind.
The inner passage
To my heart, somehow still beating,
Is not worthwhile,
Yet you insist on finding the me
That's still lost in a dream.
You shine so bright
In my darkness,
I don't want to put you out.
Burning IgnoranceIf you cracked my heart open like an egg,
You'd see all my love that would seep through the cracks.
You might also see the not-so-pleasant stuff
Dripping like tar onto your unblemished white skin,
Burning it raw in its midst.
I want so desperately
For you to know
That I could never hate you
Because you're that type of flawless,
That I could never be lucky enough
To have love all my not-so-pleasant stuff.
I'll keep it all inside,
Because ignorance is bliss
And you're blissful.
IntrepidI have to let go,
If I don't jump,
I may never fly.
And the fragments are carried in the embrace of the wind.
I've never felt
So safe and sound
Anywhere else but here,
A tear escapes
From the corner of someone's eye
As the ground grows closer.
I have lived a thousand lives
In this moment.
A smile is etched onto my face
And the tear hits the ground.
Water Runs in My Veins I break the surface and feel the waves embrace my into their icy, yet soothing arms. Once I am completely immersed, every inch of my skin tingles. My bones seem to melt to match the temperature of the water, and my movements become fluid. I deftly plunge deeper, feeling both the cold and the warmth rush past me with every stroke. The pulse of the ocean beats against my skin; it is alive. I open my eyes to take in the scene. I can't see clearly, the images are blurred. Still, I can make out soft hues of color. I reach out and feel the hard, smooth surface of a rock, resting amongst others. I feel a rigid plant, and my hand even grazes the backs of a couple of slimy fish. With each connection made by my senses, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I am truly unlimited when I'm under the sea; my fears have been washed away by the white waves.
Growing excited, I continue to venture deeper into the dark depths. Soon, I feel wisps of seaweed brush up against me, tickling
Depicting LunacyThe moon leaks through the blinds,
Casting a shrine on the wall.
Light blue starlight
And my hands are perspiring
As they twist in the sheets.
My eyelashes graze the pillow,
And my heart drops to my stomach.
The Fault in the Silver-liningDid you know
That when my eyes are clouded
And my mind is empty
I can hear the clock ticking,
Counting each worthless second gone by.
Do matter how hard I try,
My heart won't beat in unison
With the indefinite continuation
Did you know
That when I lay with my ear close to the ground
I can hear the pulse of the earth beneath me.
It slowly spins,
Yet filled with the dead.
Did you also know
That when the blood rushes through my body,
I can hear the wind tremble and quake
With a familiar fear.
Because it knows its fleeting existence
Will slip through the world's fingers.
Did you know
That I'm afraid of that too?
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
SapiosexualI don’t know what I’ll do
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,
that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead.
It isn’t true.
It’s said the stench of hell infects the earth
and healths of heated blood are downed.
But Hamlet lied.
The dead know nothing, the living less.
There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;
souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
the world is brighter where
dregs of strangers' revels remain --
i keep this half-light for my own.
i'll stay until the wind sighs a scotch-and-smoke
cliché, til the Muscadet's slipped from the lip
of my wayward
hello.(i know you're there before you do.)
your night is told in
patchouli-pulse wanders; mine,
in whorls of liqueur-breath. come
close and i'll find the warp
through the weft, the trails telling tales
in synaesthesia --
Platinum Blonde's been 'round and gone.
(-- closer, find syllables strewn
in an exhale's wake; stolen from my throat-
ful of careless farewells, spin and sway
and beg you stay.)
time enough for a kiss-
and-never-tell, for a stumbling waltz
to the dissonance of crystal-shatter odes
to the summerlong i knew you --
we were(n't) meant for more than this.
morning goes right through you,
and breathes a thousand fortunes in-
to shards of (our) stranger starfall.
and when we kiss,
he says it
leaves him breathless,
is just two awkward kids
reminding each other to breathe,
that's all you need.
A Somber NightA Somber Night 1/1/07
The times we spent together weigh
heavily on my mind.
Red was your flowing dress
on our second date.
Yellow, the tulips I gave
you on our six month anniversary.
Our life before the incident is a blur.
Green was the grass we laid in
as we gazed at the brilliant stars all night.
What are you thinking now?
Are you thinking at all?
We were as one, our bodies intertwined.
Remember how we would interpret
the shining ones as our imaginations wandered?
I stayed up all night when you got sick.
When I view the stars now...
I die a little inside.
Black is the color I wear.
Blue is the feeling I am fighting.
You were the one I wanted to
drink coffee with every morning.
You left without explanation.
You left too soon.
Orange shined down on your tousled
hair at dawn - the waves remind of pain.
Yellow is the sunrise we can't share anymore.
I envision your last breath.
Anger engulfs my eyes with
The Silver stars never lie,
their light continues to shine,
You can't have it allbut you can have the glazed heat bursting from the blacktop like a broken
fire hydrant. You can have the jangle of keys
swinging from your hip with each stride.
You can have the tactility of leather and the graze of
bathroom mosaic tiles under a cold shower pelting
bullets and when the water cuts off
you can have dry book pages. You can have happiness,
though it will often be bitter, like finding a stranger’s
wallet full of pictures of smiling children until you
return it to find that the couple is barren.
You can have the scratches on the back of his knuckles,
faded, yet raw. You can have the translucency of sheets
in the sun, silhouettes but no details,
never revealing anything more than a fringe of hair
and frayed laces tripping over themselves.
You can drop obscenities like bombs until
they don’t mean anything anymore. You can pull out the Monopoly board
that broke your family. You can’t put it back together,
but you can pretend the thimble is your mother and the