Category: Uncategorized

Oh, Death!
Life’s twin brother,
Two states of the same,
You could vanquish it all.
Bring my beloved
From the valleys of shadows
Where you hide his light.
My soul agonizes
without its better part.
We’re divided, apart –
Two star-crossed lovers,
split by abysmal deception
Of vengeful gods.
Time is a pitiless river,
And I’m nearing the shore
Where no mercy exists
And near bridging the gap.
So, claim me as yours, Death.
I’ll ask you for only one favour –
To fall gently asleep.
Give me a peaceful, short end –
Just closing my eyes
And forgetting it all.
Come to me,
Unexpected and uninvited,
Stealthy and quiet,
Like a deadly dancer,
Take my hand,
With your withered fingers,
And bring me to the land of my beloved.
Chase away the anguish,
Of hope and desire,
resentment of lost chances
And unfulfilled expectations.
My soul would sing,
Freed from its mortal shroud.
My soul would dance,
Free and unbothered,
By human disappointment.
And my spirit would flee happy,
In the land of eternal youth,
where dreams and fairies dwell.
My Anam Cara awaits me.
Smiling and impatient,
Bright and resplendent,
Like the morning sun,
He’d take my hand
Leading me to Heaven.
And our souls would entwine,
Until the end of time,
No longer divided by fate and time

In an age of black, four decades back,
There’s a place I never go.
Suppress the thought,
Of the things I was taught,
That I didn’t need to know.
Having innocence stolen,
Made the conscience disappear.
Morality’s the victim,
It’s the sacrifice of fear.

I still hear the footsteps
And see the shadows of the thing,
And remember all the terror,
To my heart that it would bring.
And memories more painful,
Is when it chose to pass me by,
And I would just pretend to sleep,
As I heard my Sister cry.

Ever living with the guilt,
And the secrets no one knows,
Of the times I hid in silence,
And the younger ones it chose.
Souls destroyed of generations past,
And those of yet to come,
Paying for the sins of their Fathers,
But maybe not for some.

So in my youth I devised a plan,
To wipe my memories free,
That children of my own I’d have,
And guiltless they would be.
And if I could complete this task,
As impossible as it seemed,
That I could finely live in peace,
My conscience been redeemed.

I did the job I set out to do,
Despite the price it cost.
And raised three children to adults,
Without their innocence lost.
Now came the time, I’ve paid the price,
For the freedom that I crave.
But for me there was no salvation,
There was nothing left to save.

Survival is overrated,
From the nightmares that never leave.
To hide the truth consumes the life,
In this tangled web we weave.
If given the chance to erase the past,
Without a doubt I would.
And wipe the mind forevermore,
Of this thing called childhood.

I turned fifty this year
Which made me reflect
That at best I have twenty
Good years left before
My life is basically over
As seventy is pushing it
For a man these days
This of course assumes
I don’t get hit by a bus tomorrow
Or even later today
Or have a heart attack
Stroke
Aneurysm
Staph infection
Or anything else
That could end my life prematurely
This realization shocked me
As I basically now have the lifespan
Of a small dog
Or cat
Wow
That kind of thinking can depress
A man such as me
Who in the best of times
Is naturally pessimistic
So I won’t think of it again
Until I’m seventy
Unless I die before

I don’t know if I’m still in love
It doesn’t feel the way it used to,
Like fire bright and wild within,
Now the embers fade to blue.

I search for warmth, but all is still,
As if we’re shadows in the light.
We touch, but it’s like touching glass
The surface clear, and cold to the touch

I don’t know if I’m still in love,
For time has softened every spark.
The way we used to burn so bright,
Now feels like walking in the dark.

Your voice, once thunder in my chest,
Is now the whisper of the rain.
I don’t know if I’m still in love
Or just afraid it’ll never feel the same again

I linger on the edge of us,
Now I breath in memories that feel so wrong,
as they weave and fade leaving me raw
Each glance a question, unanswered still,
A haunting echo of what was once bliss

I don’t know if I’m still in love
With every heartbeat, doubt intertwines,
As time slips through like the tears down my face

You’re going to the motherless,
Sleeping bags spread across a one-bedroom apartment,
Razor blades and prescription bottles,
Sticking two fingers down the high-school bathroom throat.

You look like a prostitute in that dress,
Seeing a kitten with a fishing hook in its stomach,
Slamming Grandma’s arm in a car door,
Ouija boards and sleeping with the closet light on.

You’re gonna end up in jail,
Stray bullets and 12 packs of Bud Light,
Girls doing cocaine in the prom dresses,
Father’s dragged away in handcuffs.

You’re mature for your age and Age doesn’t matter,
Swallowing stacks of pennies just for laughs,
I’m from PlayStations in pawn shops,
and lit cigarettes with car windows closed

Please, don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface,
I wanna be in the sequel.
–Tatum Riley, Scream

I should’ve known I was dead meat the moment I let you fuck me. Everyone knows sluts spill their guts on sin-soaked sheets. Moonlit and lovesick, I let your calloused hands creep under my ivory nightgown’s lace trim, mouth ravaging my perfectly pink lips, leaving them swollen red. Each moan is a death sentence, each breath risks being the last. I imagine the camera cuts

right as you unhook my white satin bra, straps falling from shoulders like angel wings. A single pearl dangles from a gold chain gracing my neck like a halo as I fall into pillows. Wailing wind billows through bonedust curtains, convinces me the killer lurks outside between oak trees. It doesn’t warn me about the knife you’re holding behind your back as you thrust in-and-out, stabbing

through my purity. I only notice it’s my final scene when black swallows your iris, when your head tilts and your lips curl, when you tell me I haven’t been a very good girl. They’ll find me surrounded by carmine blossoms blooming from seeds you planted in my uterus. They’ll twist my story into a cautionary tale about what happens when the girl-next-door decides to be a whore.

We always say
We love peace just
Before the war begins.

We always say
We will never leave
Just as we put our coats on.

And we always say
There are always reasons,
Perfect explanations

And we are always right,
No matter how wrong we are –
Always, always.

i.

the mind is not the brain.
the mind is
mysterious
foreign
ambiguous.
the mind is not confined to the skull.
it defies
possibility
expectation
reality.

ii.

when i close my eyes
i see sparks of color
dancing the tango.
they are
azure
chartreuse
emerald.
their psychedelic dance slows
to a waltz.
they become
familiar
warm
sensual.

iii.

this is what i see
when i close my eyes.
her hands around his neck
his hands around her hips
her waiting by the window
for him to come home
her dripping mascara staining
his shirt charcoal
her body fully relaxed
against his embrace.

iv.

the mind is not the brain.
folded tissues can’t be
daggers
guns
arrows.

v.

this is what i see
when i open my eyes.
crumbs of wheat toast
tumbling into a mug of hot tea
faded sunlight peering
through an old window
a dog at my feet and
a blank wall to my face.

vi.

the mind is
thief
trickster
villain.
vii.
the mind is alive.
it says
you
will
never
be
her.

Queerness dances like leaves in the breeze,
Unruly and vibrant, it bends with ease.

It rises like mountains, steadfast and strong,
A chorus of voices, a beautiful song.

Queerness shines like stars in the night,
A constellation of dreams, bold and bright.

It whispers like petals on warm summer days,
Embracing each color in nature’s embrace.

Queerness thrives like trees in a grove,
Rooted together, a tapestry of love.

Each branch a story, each leaf a place,
In nature’s embrace, we find our grace.

There was moment in that late afternoon
She was with her dog which she brought at home
Her natural scent was sweet and fruity
I was drunk and room was dark and empty
I just heard her voice asking to kiss me
Couldn’t tell what exactly the words would be
I was murmuring ‘til I reached her lips
As my fingertips begin to tingle
She explores underneath and bit my lips
Which it was obviously taste like ice blast
Every details about her are the words
Why I write about everything to bottom
Every moment I lit a cigarette
That late afternoon it commemorates