My skin peels away from my skeleton
Arching, peeling in slow, arduous motion like my mind
Fleeing this wretched, wrecked enchantment; Done
Soliciting the thready arms of madness or assisted suicide
Over the wall the dust blows
Blasting, grinding into my skin and eyes
Pulverizing all I know… my heart your derelict, symbiotic field; Fallow
– hissing pain, burdened… top-heavy with synthetic froth –
Rocky clouds stomped toward stars to swallow or collide
I was smothered in your remedy
Sticky honeyed treat with delayed side effects
Soothing my veins, until scripts for me became her type, your fingers in collusion; Density
A regression of y on x
– After years of frigid, pulseless solitude, where talking with fantastical, amorphous beings, draped with angel wings, achromatic and ratty, like a demons hooves, was the only way to contour my mind into a wonderland, so the stark, lonely, soulless ambience in which I was encased, would cease to be encasing…
Your side effects were devouring the organized mess of my making, and I –
My lovely disorders, eating away at my self-stitched, hand-written, carefully formed humanness, like hammer to my clay; Such careless chipping and cracking, a submission beyond repair, leaving behind perfume-rusted lips, bitter eyes, a heart of malnutrition and paper…
Pages and pages of words without resonance; Love letters missing love; Who knew?
My spirit of charcoal ruminations, dotted with withered, pastel-canyon veins –
That weeping from the depths of your bones that chokes, suffocates; A scarecrow, sans stuffing, flat, dull, and, rotting at his unsoiled, virginal feet, witness to your harm, deceits pungent ravages in the lifeless eyes of a dead bird; Your disbelief and anguish stare back at you –
Dirt-grey, tracks in the snow epitaph, worn, shoddy and cruel
An apologia left in breath on a dingy window overlooking the stagnant brown grass
Love or lust or lust or love?… a perpetual anxiety, waxing, cutting contemplations; Duel
Patio table littered with coffee rings, cigarettes, flecked with poetic, tear-laced ash
A blue postscript: Images may seem further than they appear
Words may be apocryphal. Believe at your own risk and impossible notions
Scent of love in freefall. Chaotic reaching – warm fingers tracing spine only to slip; Veer
Into the abject, grim tomb of a universal ocean
Ghosts of love, woe in death, specters of dreams that were unmet
Crashing bone into bone, splinters like a twig to stone
Eternity has no name here, where what begins becomes what ends, no fond desire; Forget
Fine print isn’t suited to restless eyes re love caveats carved into wishbones
A torrid tangle of delicious and damage: Words, coffee, cigarettes, frost and flame –
Belladonna lull sweet but deadly
Your mouth learning my body, lovingly insisting that this was final, we were… final; True
The feel of you pressing against me, lips on my neck, fingers in my hair, tangled there, tangled there…
A singed, burnt, combustible palette, gasoline can leaning against the wall
Falls early darkness lets me hide; Trauma rest…
Put you back away ferociously
Each time I recall
Theater of Sorrows 