Monthly Archives: August 2016

mute.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard
you might never
forget.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard,
you would see
it never ends.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard,
you would never
understand.

i can’t say
it all out loud.
if you heard,
you would wish
i never did.

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please let me.

​i said the words
again.
and i cried
my lungs dry.
and i stopped
caring.
again.

i felt another wave;
there have been
too many
and too often.
i have nothing left
to ride on;
it pulls me under.

i said the words
again.
and i cried
my lungs dry.
and i stopped
caring.
again.


silence.

walk with me
to the edge
and grasp
my wrist;

as we free fall
into the bliss –
we have waited
all the days.

i told them
i don’t care,
and you stood stoic
and warm;

walk with me –
i want your hands,
and eyes, and brain –
hold me in our silence.

do you trust me?
when a single tear
from a week alone
holds all the weight.

i slept last night
and you weren’t there,
but your hand was in mine.
and we slept.


4WD.

i know:

i must be
the only one
looking for that
black escape.

always a surprise,
but not unwelcome;
filling me
with a tired warmth.

like the night
we stepped off
the edge
of this world;

and finally found
a space
just for us.

i yearn to lie
next to you again
and melt
into the smoky, thick
comforting clouds.


luxury.

some days
it would be
a luxury,
to stop time;
halt the moments;
and find
a sort of respite;
a pause,
in the spinning
globe.

this place
is done.
the wars
won’t end.
and the hatred
only grows.
the people
can not be trusted.
and the animals
have fled.


rubber.

sometimes
you smell
like blu-tac.
it makes me
imagine
your veins
as twisted,
malleable,
rubber.

sometimes
she sounds
like rubber.
it makes him
recoil
and remember,
she was raised
on a farm,
with pigs as best friends.

sometimes
he looks
like music.
it makes me
imagine
his veins
as twisted,
charred,
rubber.


limbo.

it’s cold today,
but the birds
sailed by.

my backbone chilled
and my eye sockets
are weakened.

his lips felt wanting;
her lips were small
and bruised.

the wind mocks me
and again i am
a soulless ghost.

but if merely a ghost,
why do i feel
so cold?

let me go numb,
until this passes
and something else remains.