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I love contemplation, curiosity, self awareness, imagination and strange things. I write about the human condition, and often write about love lost. Tragic, haunting, graphic, strange, heart-wrecking sorrow calls to me, and so; I write. I believe there is beauty in sorrow. I’ve lived it, seen it, felt it, know it. I hope that my words create a Universe of their own for you, full of visuals and contemplation.

I hope that you enjoy.

At Every Turn

Petal Palette of the Past?

I thought that you were hard to love
Like sewing a butterflies wings
Like exorcising ghosts by bringing back the dead
There’s honesty, and then there’s being cruel
I never meant to is the worst kind of deceit
Love melting into scars
Emptiness strangling the stars…
I thought your eyes were brown, when the road fell away behind us –
That dried up town in the rear view, where we tossed dirt onto the demons
But all I see is grey, casting shadows on your shadows
Rusted memories twisted round you
Pelting undertow threatening to drown you
I thought that I could take away your pain –
But I guess I don’t know how to
And killing time won’t devastate what’s devastated you
Demons’ bones in piles, but specters still gloating, spinning pompous smiles…
Grind the perverse gristle into broth –
Swallow down what’s edible, and leave the rest to rot…
Messenger eyes upon you, beak thrusted toward a hazardous moon
Naming you their kind –
Just like I sensed, the first time…
Feathers left in cobbled nests
Of thread and twigs, and torn, half written words of love in purple passages…
I’ll sew your wings, stitch them deep and strong, through your skin into your bones
So you can soar through sunflower galaxies, then I’ll whisper you back home
Let my body be your soft earth, where you can kneel down to pray
My eyes like liquid runes, spelling out you’re not alone
Those infestations gestating chaos in your abstract mind –
Come, give all that to me
I’ll paint it into words only for your ears –
Ten thousand juicy valentines…
We’ve had trouble staying on the road
Broken glass and crunched, metal-punctured dreams
Grapes dead on the vines –
We’ve dragged our scraped up hearts behind
But oh… the way you taste…
Like licking honey from the comb
I want to inhale all your words, all your sweetness, all your wounds
And oh… the way you hurt…
It sucks the marrow from my bones
Until I ache and bleed for you…
I gave up trying to understand what fate made clear so long ago
I thought that you were hard to love
But maybe it was me?
It’s 3am and the snow just keeps falling… falling… falling…
The cities lights make me feel melancholy, just like you often do
I think that sadness fills me with an absinthe bliss, like being stoned on poppy stew
And I’m sorry for the harsh words, and I’m sorry that I’ve been unkind
And I’m waiting, and at every turn –
You’re on my mind

Two Ghosts in this House

Web of Woe

You’re a recuse in the dead zone
Bits of seasons mixed with rubbish, and carnage, and disemboweled eyes
You’ve let your thoughts control you
Roots dig deep to pierce cartilage, arteries and bone
Murmurs and spit infest your skin with their sour acidity
Until you break at the seams…
Eroded needle with its olive-green, worm-eaten thread
Is like precious in your hand
Stitch yourself back together, haphazardly
Until your bones crack and you purr a contented sigh
Then you drip a razor wire smile and a bitter spirit
Shoulders burning from the corpses that you carry
Always plug the holes with whatever’s close and strong –
That fifth so sweet and solid in shaking, aging hands
Erogenous liquid caressing your insides
Makes you warm and blurry until no one else can see you
Nuzzle dreams of lies, crawl and retch, fall and shatter

Yesterday guzzles conception
Sucking plump, muculent eggs until they’re withered and dry
Spitting shells into piles, through pursed, pointy lips and tilted teeth
Mounds and mounds of linen-white, crunchy fragments left in all your barren cathedrals
Like delicate broken china, or baby bones, propped high

And tomorrow is cauterized before it’s even wounded

You pull yourself inside out
Argue for hours with demons in an empty room, while you scratch down the walls
Eyes dilated and elongated; Bloated with imagined wrongs and frayed dreams –
You mindlessly pluck feather after feather from your mangled, ratty wings…
You pull me inside out
I’ve never known someone as savage as you
The cruelest thing
Is not to break a heart, but to treat someone as if they have no heart to break
I weep behind doors and around corners to keep myself safe
I’ve been fighting harder for you than you have
Funny how a realization can leave you hemorrhaging
That final straw so brutally cutting

Now we’re just two ghosts in this house
Where you haunt me and drag me around
While we each search for a way out of this misery and pain –
But it’s the dead of summer, hot as hell, and no rain
Lightening crashing in this dead-end town
I watch us burn to the ground

We’re just two ghosts in this house







Mother

Mournful Messenger

Mother
I feel so very old today
How I can feel like I’m dying, yet feel numb
I can’t explain
I’m so lonely, so alone
And I wish that I knew how to put heartbroken away –
Pack it in that well-worn suitcase sitting quietly in the back of my closet…
Heartbroken is so loud
Regret and defeat, unwanted, unloved, dead dreams and emptiness clinging to it –
Time grinding away at my bones, my mind, my soul, wringing through it…
Mother
How did I get here so fast?
How is it that you’ve been gone all these years?
It seemed like you didn’t fight, but I know that you did, in your own way
I would have given up so much for just one more word
But you climbed inside of yourself without a goodbye
I was ambushed by the abnormal in the normal of your dying –
When the sound of your voice ran off, and took with it the green light in your eyes…
I was that little girl, standing on the playground at Madison
Turned toward the window of our apartment, waving to let you know that I made it
Waiting for you to wave back
I didn’t know that you would disappear before you left for good –
Was it the chemicals? Or the fear? Or bitterness or rage?
Or that you were tired of the story and abruptly turned the page?
Mother
I haven’t been happy in such a long, long time
I make the best out of it though, like I always have
I blow kisses to the mirror
And whisper to midnight
Because if I didn’t then no one would ever see or hear me
And I think I would go mad
Yes, I have someone but he finds me hard to love
I thought that it was the other way around
But he tells me that I’m crazy, feeds me IV gasoline lies
Says that I was damaged before he ever touched me –
Then stabs me once or twice
Mother
I miss our coffee and conversations in your little kitchen when I’d go home to visit
You often said that when you get old no one wants you, and I woke up old today
Too tired to care anymore
To put heartbroken away –
How did I end up here so fast, in this brutal, forsaken place?
I’m just having a moment where I feel ashamed and alone
Where wounds are reopened as rock hits each bone
If I could cry, I’d drown myself, but I’m full of sawdust like a scarecrow
I’ve tried to be kind, tried to show love, tried to be lovely, and bubbly and true
But I’ve felt like a ghost for most of my life
I can’t even come close to expressing how much I wish you were here

Even if it was just to wave goodbye