your eyes open,
tranquil like the lazy twilight
peeking into our most secret places.
If only peace was forever
a mess curly hair, wet skin
as you step from the shower.
On these nights, with your fears
cracked wide open,
a sickly child staring through your eyes
I cannot help but love you more.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Day 3: Questions
dolls with torn seams
and tiny reminders pushing relentlessly
against the broken rails of circular thought.
I've sewn the wrong ends together
and can't rip them apart.
the pedal is pressed down, steadfast
quicker and quicker,
everything quakes dimly beneath me.
Is it a monster lurking under my bed
or something else entirely?
I have not grown much farther from here,
this place, this heart, and yet
with throbbing delicacy
the caterpillar weaves his fortress.
and tiny reminders pushing relentlessly
against the broken rails of circular thought.
I've sewn the wrong ends together
and can't rip them apart.
the pedal is pressed down, steadfast
quicker and quicker,
everything quakes dimly beneath me.
Is it a monster lurking under my bed
or something else entirely?
I have not grown much farther from here,
this place, this heart, and yet
with throbbing delicacy
the caterpillar weaves his fortress.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Day 2: Alone at Home
split strands of molecular information
made you?
footsteps on a path to nowhere, anywhere
made me.
I've been trying to absorb your smell
in the fabric of my clothing, but
I feel nothing
so
I spread my legs
and shut my eyes
and press your memory
too close to my body.
made you?
footsteps on a path to nowhere, anywhere
made me.
I've been trying to absorb your smell
in the fabric of my clothing, but
I feel nothing
so
I spread my legs
and shut my eyes
and press your memory
too close to my body.
Day 1: On Last Night's Depressive Episode
how many days have I spent
staring out the window
in the dark,
that peculiar spread of branches
stabbing at the air?
they expand in my chest cavity,
hardening, ripping arteries,
and yet I spill no blood.
I wonder how so much pain
cannot cause death unto itself
I breathe it, living cruelly
inside the blank.
staring out the window
in the dark,
that peculiar spread of branches
stabbing at the air?
they expand in my chest cavity,
hardening, ripping arteries,
and yet I spill no blood.
I wonder how so much pain
cannot cause death unto itself
I breathe it, living cruelly
inside the blank.
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