As long as it takes

My fingers curl and spasm,Unable to stitch together these fragments,My imagination, my memories,Into a single breath of time,So I'll wait,Until the pain passes,As long as it takes.

Listen to my Music

Loosely I lift memories,My mind's little music,From lilting melodic lullabies,To the morbid lucidities,of mindless maladies,Murmuring lifelessly,Luring madness lightly,Murdering light likely,Lyrical membrane lo -Until I cannot recall how it goes.

Such cold roots

I buried myself in verdant leaves,Which grew damp in crimson dreams,And with the taste of winter on the breeze,I find comfort in these faint memories,Lost now in deep roots of ancient ash trees.

Patchouli Dreams

Patchouli dreams stir old memories,Like pulling old photo albums from the shelf,Dusty, grainy, somehow burned,But that's because one of us keeps trying,Keeps trying to burn this memory down,But I'll save it,I'll remember,Even if I'm all that's left,Of this broken home we built,In an Autumn of long ago.

Stranger in a Strange Land

I walked the steps that Aramais built,His bones settling still in the dampness of the dream.My mouth was hidden in dry wrappings of the dead,For the shroud hid that which Unspoken covet so.In my hands I carried the only weapons permitted,The pen and book,For those like me,Chroniclers from the Skin of the World,We avoid the … Continue reading Stranger in a Strange Land →

The Coffee Blues

Morning coffee blues,Cold cream in steaming darkness,A pinch to wake me. The barista's weary smile,All business, a pro,Small talk is for the depraved,Or those lonely fools,Who mistake a smile for love,And chase their coffee,With pitiful fantasy.A rhythm so smooth,His exhausted nonchalance,Just goes with the beat. This one's a to-go,For this weary vinyl,Is worn out enough.

First to Move, Lost.

She raised up her chin, As though to balance Her precious fingers, In thoughtful contemplation. He leaned in to kiss The edge of her thoughts, But was justly stopped, By the frown upon her lips. So two did they sit, A duet so filled With wary silence Of the bone-deep awareness, That the first to … Continue reading First to Move, Lost. →

Hold up your hands

Hold up your hands,Stained with pale fire,Until hot dreams ofBright futures grow dim,Cooling against your sighs,Softening like your soul,Trickling through your fingers,As dried streams ofHope haunts unfettered children -These phantoms drawn inAsh falling like snow. Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Ash” as part of their Quadrille Night.

Pity the Soothsayers

I hate the idea that one's life is pre-ordained.To think that your suffering is expected.Some say it's all "God's Design,"But that's not fair to me,Or to the palm reader,Who sees the lines,And sighs.

Damn all of you

Damn all of you who told me to forget,As though I could somehow throw it away,These fucking memories of a phantom girl,Whose love crippled me and left me mad,Whose softest touch meant more to me,Transmitted through words on a screen,Or through the haze of an old flip-phone,Than every desperate, sticky fumbling,Every pulsing moan and lovely … Continue reading Damn all of you →