Category: Uncategorized

Letting go is difficult.
Especially when you fail to notice
that the one you love,
with every fiber of your being,
is holding the knife
that will later gut you.

I stared into the flame,
from the gas light on your table,
My eyes adjusted
to the convincing, distorted view.

You held my wrists tightly in place,
like shackles.
Keeping my gaze on the one light,
to make sure I didn’t see the other dozen,
making the single one burn brighter.

But each light
brought warmth to the room.
So, I didn’t even hear the alarms go off,
until the entire room was on fire.

And I stopped being blind
to painfully obvious truths.

The words,
from the sweetest lips,
that I found blissfully comforting,
spewed venom
in my once naive heart.

Your huge hands,
gripping my neck,
left imprints of your fingers,
showing your control of my breath.

Those same fingers,
leaving dark and distinct bruises,
decorating my pale arms,
and destroying every boundary.

Lying and cheating,
you claimed were accidents.
Made my trust as fragile
as the mirror that showed a reflection
I no longer recognized.

Forcing your way into
my fragile body.
I was nothing more,
than a vessel for new life.

But you accomplished NOTHING,
but making my stomach turn,
from utter disgust.

It’s a shame,
you can’t tell from the outside
if the meat inside is poison.

It took me far too long to see,
what everyone already knew.
The issue wasn’t always me,
the problem was often you.

Face me proud, O Great One,
Cling tight to your fragile crown.
Zeus may bow, but only in shadow,
Your empire cracks, tumbling down.

Look at us, O Divine One, with scorn,
See the sneers we barely hide.
Fear binds our rage by a thread,
But soon your reign will subside.

My hand will wield the final knife,
Rivers of blood at my feet.
Both you and I will be cursed,
In death, our fates will meet.

No kingdom built on brittle lies,
No power earned through empty fame.
Your paper throne crumbles at last,
Under the weight of your name.

I can confidently say quite happily now
that I had been singled
out for doom. Every soul in the stadium
was perfect but me. At the time
it truly sucked
but looking back it was like leaning in
to the inside pitch and bruising
your shoulder and gloriously getting
to first base. Yes, like that. Like
a kiss

I’ve lost all will
The will to be
The will to breathe
The will to see
Regained misfortune
Tragedy
Unlucky in my misery
No company
Alone each day
No love
No lust
Nothing to say
The tears have gone
The sky is gray
Existence null
No drive to play
Numb to the world
Feelings dispersed
An empty purse
Successful curse
Lost all that’s left
I’ve lost all will
The will to try
The will to feel

In losing you, I lost myself
Dust in the wind
A broken shelf

“I came home broke with no job and this musician with a saxophone came walking down the stairs, playing the most beautiful music any of us had ever heard but we had nothing to tip him with other than our wonderment and wonderment does not put food on his plate and we are all starving poets, standing around in awe of each other, our stomachs hurting because only artists understand the pain of being hungry and only artists are broke and the economy of famished writers and singers and painters is collapsing (did it ever exist?) because how can we put aside time to make a living when we need tragedy and pain and beauty to live and how could we ever be part of a society that only employs those who do not need the money, or those who are in control of their mind and its impulses, or those who are not addicted to the rush of creation, of change, of heroin, of jazz, of beatnik society, of throwing up at three AM; swearing that chunks of intestinal lining and a still-beating heart are clumped together in the toilet next to bile and other various content of the stomach, because what is our last meal if not our life force, tying us to the cold bathroom tile in the early hours of the morning, when the only people awake are those with feelings so large that it might as well burst through their ribcage and kill us all and isn’t that the whole point of life, dying, what else would we live for, I mean, the only thing that brought me any joy today was the music of a saxophone player and I didn’t even have anything
to give him in return”

The Spring was tensed, all springs are,
“Today’s the hottest on record”,
the weather woman was ornamented, platinum white,
she looked like mom, but mom had no Sun,

A burning cornea, wrapped around silky green peaks,
I had dad’s eyes, but mine are brown,
“What was ice cream?”
“Something that melted”
Thank god dirt doesn’t melt,

Sandboxes aren’t children-exclusive,
though, the suns beg the adults to move,
Pulsing, flares signal life worth redeeming
yet, the light is used only to tan,
heat, only to fuel inebriated, burning passion,

Attendees of the grand Ball found courtesy something of contempt,
woman spun sultry steps, men stifled rejection,
however, the deceptive lyre wasn’t pleasing in tone to all alike,
The lips of the divergent mimicked a trampoline,
Dissent roiled high off the tongue, only to fall on silent floor,
yet, the floor listens,

Suns play with thread, unraveling, collapsing,
the end frayed from constant play,
the labyrinthian walls only stretched sky-high,
Men forged wings of wax, fervently hopeful, unsettlingly individualistic,
they fall towards red, cracked stone,

“There was green ground and blue sky.
Birds chirped while morning prayers drifted on high.
Water stretched to horizons, air kissed skin,
sons fell face first while fathers breathed laughter in.”
Mom’s voice was caught by dream and silence observed the lullaby,

I shuffled off, probably like a slug, though,
I wondered how those birds felt, soaring– didn’t they get burned?
The absence of the Sun lent shadows to dreams,
but above shone the brightest star,

red, boiling hot, avoiding dawn, as,
when the Sun came up, the star scurried,
when the Sun went down, the star spread its gospel,

I wondered if they were like star crossed lovers,
longing for affection, yet promising mutual destruction,
A relationship which sparked tall tales, legends, myths,
lullabies

For I am a chameleon, an evanescent stew
A nameless face, fore’er displaced, a vision misconstrued
A wasteland of desolation, where cold hyenas howl
A graveyard of the forgotten, with bodies disemboweled.

For I am a chameleon, a jester in the court
A laughing stock, a hopeless sot, a sickly lad of sorts
With Ten-thousand tongues of fire, a lust of life and death
Multitudes of mercury deep, a sea within my breast.

Protean and vacuous, darkened and resigned,
Vapid yet beguiled, vacant and confined,
A formless vortex of friends and enemies.
Malleable desire and vacillation;
Redemptive path to reconciliation,
A love lost: a crisis of identity.

I used to love board games
Beg, bribe to convince you to play
“Not today” “Maybe later”
A roll of die, a flip of a coin
I got a bad hand of cards
I make friends in my mind.
They always want to play.
Crows sit outside my window
Spectating, watching in the dark
Rolled a 1. Damn. I wait
For someone to laugh at my
Misfortune. The ones im my head
Dont laugh. I dont laugh.
I make strangers laugh, for
I know what it’s like to not.
The water park is open,
The sun beams down on everyone
Not me. The dark stays.
Another rolled 1. Damn.
My fortune may turn.
For now, it’s my friend’s turn
To roll. A 1. Damn.
Maybe the days might
Mean something again.

Time of death
Three forty nine.
I declare.
I am qualified
An official certificate hangs on my wall.
Why this moment?
I choose it.
He deserved it
The morgue gives his number.
Six. Six. Six.
The funeral home takes
His releasing number.
Cremation awaits him.
Cardboard box to follow.

#
End

Icarus drowning
A tragedy or a victory?
Lament not, grieve not
Your son, in his flight
Grazed his auburn wings across my chariot,
Eyes once blinded, then ablaze,
Overlooking everything that was hidden from him,
He did not want to obey,
He wanted to fly, Daedalus.
You must not blame it upon yourself,
For the golden cage he was locked in,
Was still a cage.
As he flew across the cerulean sky,
And the west winds hurled him left to right,
He dared and dreamed
And as he plunged downwards into the Icarian sea,
I did hear him scream, indeed,
But the yells that echoed throughout Olympus,
Were those of pleasure, of a poor boy that wanted to feel.
Icarus embraced the waves
Just as he embraced the Sun, so
With loss that is weaved
Into his wings
That you think failed, it is
You who fails to see
That before Icarus fell
Icarus flew.