Graves in Rows

In the sickroom; This dread abode…
Hateful season, how you mock me
Sooty angels pry into my dreams with caustic, razor fingers
Of which they use to riven the last tatters of hope
Place their decayed eyes in my direction, as gauzy lips of melancholia, stone cold
Are pressed against my forehead
While they trim their hemlock wings, leathery feathers piling up like the brittle stars
That you’ve left inside a thousand green bottles on top of the brick wall in the back yard –
Graves in rows
Taking up too much space in my heart –
Rows so long that they blur into shapes of useless mouths, sinful lips; Like yours
Spitting words of which you’ve casually dissected all meaning –
Sliced away its resplendent, precious luster
Little by little as the toilsome years bit deep
When a mothers wounds were handed down as bitter candy
Love embalmed with cyanide fractures; Eggshell fault lines from preexisting umbilical instability
Goading life to swipe away at your spirit during such thankless decades of drought
A heritage of malnutrition and insanity
Until you found your god in a bottle
Disassembled and parched; You drank him in
Razed the roof until you rattled the dead –
Annoyed; They screeched against the cinnamon sun that rose through your pores, from your booze-soaked veins
Oozed from your clammy skin…
Bloated pupils drift aimlessly; Jellyfish sans tentacles –
Ricochet in slow motion off of violent irises
Like blobs in lava lamps camped out on top of a seventies television set
As you slump back on the couch, stare at its blank screen
Like it’s a wormhole to Persephones sanctum
A haven where the bones sing you lullabies that empty your head of its torturous pain –
Your affliction, boring through blood and bone in frenetic mastication…
Drop by drop, liquid sex sliding down your throat, until moony delirium
Did you find a gods perspective from your hazy alcove?
This wasting away…
Until you have no care, no concern for precious things
Stepping over the cusp, raging demon; You have left your eyes behind
You have cut your face into my greatest fear
Torn your lips into a snarling ferocity that spits our memories into ashes of tears
My heart, my spirit disintegrates into suicide wounds
The air swirls as Mercy descends, leathered wings curling round her…
There is no place for me in her sooty embrace
I’m not even a shadow in our photographs
I hear you humming in the other room, as if you’re at peace with our final goodbye
I hear you set the bottle down
I used to think that your indifference to my feelings was your wounded child lashing out

Feed me gasoline
Then set me on fire
My pain, my flames, our demise –
The only light in your dead eyes

Glass of water at your lips



No Good Deed

I thought I was a star

Shimmering a pathway to the moon

I got caught up in my illusion

Thought I might be beautiful

Then you ripped me from the sky

Pressed your bitter words against my heart

Looking down; I saw that I was just a weed

In the rancid dirt

The best parts of me were just a fractured shadow on your face

Creased valleys of drought that your fingers tried to scratch away

As you chased after the blazing sun

Until I withered with shame

Pinpoints of light, the delicate threads of my soul reeled toward nothingness

Devastated by your dissection of my spirit

A list of grievances so long that it wrapped round the universe 13 times

Your truths deliberately cruel in translation, extinguishing my light

As I stood on the burning bridge

Wondering if plunging into the gasolines wake might be a better choice

Unsure how to react to such venom as it ate at my eyes and skin

Melting them, to pool at my feet

I dragged my defeated shadow, my desiccated bones to the cemetery

My heart falling into dead rosebushes somewhere along the way

But, too weary, too despondent to turn around and search

I carried on, followed the western lights that brought us together

This time leading us apart

To my resting place

My lonely, unmarked grave beneath the scraggly lilac bush

Wondering what I had done to create this rampage

Animosity oozing from your pores, your breath, your eyes…

I like to think that before I met you

Atrocious years falling away with no gentle attention built up such fury

And I became the hope that you cupped in your palms, but eventually could not believe

I dreamt that you loved me

I dreamt that you loved yourself

That the fire in your belly wasn’t for the alcohol on your breath

Dreamt of when your eastern eyes sought me in the western midnight sky

And those lips that never smile, curved wide like the crescent moon, when you found me

Wrapped me in your arms, where I inhaled the luscious scent of you

Losing myself in that silky lions mane, and those warrior eyes that hid the ghosts you’d piled up

A demon on each soft shoulder, carping in your ears

Creaky voices hissing rancor, goading a perverse blind eye

Toward flinty choices that chained you to your history

Love is a force for good

But it can not heal all

This is a dream that time and again will find its way to the burial yard

It doesn’t matter how many good intentions have feathered those wings

It doesn’t matter how far those wings arch to reach

Some demons eat angels

Some stars plummet to their ruin

No good deed goes unpunished

My Mourning Gown

Snowy Steeple

My mourning gown
My stinging undoing
A wreck, ruined and breathless
As my lungs insist –

This firesong was ours without a doubt
Hearty passion, intuition, entered at our own volition
Look through my seasons
Look through my eyes
Onto the parts of me that no one else should ever see
Onto the pieces that should be left to obscurity
Douse the melting flame
With breath and touch and gasoline –
With lips and mouth and quarantine –
Where starched sheets tangle, like our legs
As kiss becomes one spark to flame
Within thin walls pressed ears could obtain
Soft moans, in peaks of cherished pain
Reckless marks on tender skin
Taste so sweet they should be sin
And mortal, crimson petals bleed
Passion purring rhapsodic need
Velvet smooth against the rough
To singe so sweet never enough

And in my mind I live to dream
Of angel wings we laid upon, as over skin our fingers crept til dawn –
Fingers drenched in the sweet obscene
That, after pulse and breath did still
Did hold filter-tipped to our delighted lips
Bleached, thin strips, of menthol flavored nicotine

Into your eyes I remember; I fell unbound
Silent, sweet, searing sound
To fade, to die as mortals do
These lips immortalize what was true

My mourning gown
My stinging undoing
A wreck, ruined and breathless
For what no longer does exist