relinquish
I am that strangest music, the song played out at last. That familiar sound lost in the static whisper of the rain, bitter innocence now only this wounded tongue, this lapse into sheer translation. The days as cracked as the sidewalk, as hands worn through from that idyll work. The nights so near that they cling to your clothes, a lover's breath having left....
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I am that strangest music, the song played out at last. That familiar sound lost in the static whisper of the rain, bitter innocence now only this wounded tongue, this lapse into sheer translation. The days as cracked as the sidewalk, as hands worn through from that idyll work. The nights so near that they cling to your clothes, a lover's breath having left....
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imagine
The heart settles its business in separate chambers, behind creaking hinges and rushing rhythms. The fitful little mysteries, the frightful tussle of blood and breath always measured by rise and run. These going concerns of life and love and weather, pressed tightly against the ache of ribs. These simple missions of dull resistance and noble sacrifice.
You feel your shadow stretch, moving beneath the...
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The heart settles its business in separate chambers, behind creaking hinges and rushing rhythms. The fitful little mysteries, the frightful tussle of blood and breath always measured by rise and run. These going concerns of life and love and weather, pressed tightly against the ache of ribs. These simple missions of dull resistance and noble sacrifice.
You feel your shadow stretch, moving beneath the...
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want
All through the day the sky was a riot. Birds rising up on the winds that are sweeping down. Sunlight warming the icy spray that this storm would make of rain. Hail riddling the skin with a copse of shivers. The whole world whipped into spheres and change.
I fell asleep, trying to shrug off the day with drowsy whims, dreaming of ache and...
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All through the day the sky was a riot. Birds rising up on the winds that are sweeping down. Sunlight warming the icy spray that this storm would make of rain. Hail riddling the skin with a copse of shivers. The whole world whipped into spheres and change.
I fell asleep, trying to shrug off the day with drowsy whims, dreaming of ache and...
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mummy
Will I ever know this bliss again, the rush of the trees as they rise, the rain threshing away each breath. The slow dissolution, that weight of embrace, this blood owed to wild tides and distant shores. That sense of holding closer than flesh and lost forever at once. That scale of hearts and deeds, that devotion like barest dreams upon a mirror, always...
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Will I ever know this bliss again, the rush of the trees as they rise, the rain threshing away each breath. The slow dissolution, that weight of embrace, this blood owed to wild tides and distant shores. That sense of holding closer than flesh and lost forever at once. That scale of hearts and deeds, that devotion like barest dreams upon a mirror, always...
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don't look back
My how the brambles rise, into the dead of the night. My how the briars entangle, that bare but beating heart. The moon swells, blunt and bloated among the clouds. The tide resolves these troubles with a life without love. The flesh feels taut, so full of bone and blood and feeling. The skin feels crisp, ready for the least wind to...
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My how the brambles rise, into the dead of the night. My how the briars entangle, that bare but beating heart. The moon swells, blunt and bloated among the clouds. The tide resolves these troubles with a life without love. The flesh feels taut, so full of bone and blood and feeling. The skin feels crisp, ready for the least wind to...
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basement
You will find my name left in ruins, skeletal cacti and that half a moon so far away. It sticks like twilight shadows, desperate to touch every skin. It falls like rain, soaking each breath through. It clings like kisses, that flavor of sulk and surprise. Lit dimly, only finding focus further past alone. Something carefully forgotten, never spoken of again.
This is that...
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You will find my name left in ruins, skeletal cacti and that half a moon so far away. It sticks like twilight shadows, desperate to touch every skin. It falls like rain, soaking each breath through. It clings like kisses, that flavor of sulk and surprise. Lit dimly, only finding focus further past alone. Something carefully forgotten, never spoken of again.
This is that...
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missing
Rust devours every tool. The weeds have won the yard. Every season has its prayers and litter, to cover up the landscape and scatter to the wind. I type with such brittle skin, tight as a drum, desolate as a tomb. The air touches my flesh with its cool dry cadaver's kiss, rewarding survival with whatever blight is convenient. The dusk fills with mosquitoes...
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Rust devours every tool. The weeds have won the yard. Every season has its prayers and litter, to cover up the landscape and scatter to the wind. I type with such brittle skin, tight as a drum, desolate as a tomb. The air touches my flesh with its cool dry cadaver's kiss, rewarding survival with whatever blight is convenient. The dusk fills with mosquitoes...
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cohesion
The ants always win, gambling with their lives. That endless crawl towards possibility becoming eventually life itself. That clarity of hunger and aim, the trails towards feast and oblivion. That endless procession that reward the patience to change. They are devout in their clamorings, rigorous in their rituals. Victory is only the plural of all mistakes and the paths that stay true.
I distill...
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The ants always win, gambling with their lives. That endless crawl towards possibility becoming eventually life itself. That clarity of hunger and aim, the trails towards feast and oblivion. That endless procession that reward the patience to change. They are devout in their clamorings, rigorous in their rituals. Victory is only the plural of all mistakes and the paths that stay true.
I distill...
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the king of sad mountain
The blank page is imagined. A wind that descends like a seabird on some landlocked town, a gull bitterly voicing its contempt for what the sea does not provide. It falls in wave after wave of failed words, it gathers, a slice of static freed in the mind. Some sort of ritual or homage, a remainder from a language long...
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The blank page is imagined. A wind that descends like a seabird on some landlocked town, a gull bitterly voicing its contempt for what the sea does not provide. It falls in wave after wave of failed words, it gathers, a slice of static freed in the mind. Some sort of ritual or homage, a remainder from a language long...
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coercion
It begins, clinging like summer cotton, that breath of flesh and fever. The sun smeared across these small epiphanies of steel and pavement, the sky always going somewhere. The travel across these set pieces of speed and drama is that masque where the dance is always trailing off, lost in limb and thought. The empty tribute of life to these labors of vain abandon,...
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It begins, clinging like summer cotton, that breath of flesh and fever. The sun smeared across these small epiphanies of steel and pavement, the sky always going somewhere. The travel across these set pieces of speed and drama is that masque where the dance is always trailing off, lost in limb and thought. The empty tribute of life to these labors of vain abandon,...
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bone structure
Life's a mystery. The stars venture us only ghosts, so far and sharp and brittle. Hinting only of a depth that we could not see. Whispering mass through every scar and fissure. The beauty is always the hardest part, out here where the words thin down.
I grant your grace is mostly architectural, that modest posture strictly always swaying, acknowledging the weight of...
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Life's a mystery. The stars venture us only ghosts, so far and sharp and brittle. Hinting only of a depth that we could not see. Whispering mass through every scar and fissure. The beauty is always the hardest part, out here where the words thin down.
I grant your grace is mostly architectural, that modest posture strictly always swaying, acknowledging the weight of...
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seduction
There is nothing that does not nettle. The way your skin radiated sunlight, the way your hair smelled of the sea, all those tangled nights so near to forever. That this life is traffic and missteps, that the winter sun will burn my flesh, that I am bound to this world by the tensile strength of beauty and dreams. My opening bid is that...
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There is nothing that does not nettle. The way your skin radiated sunlight, the way your hair smelled of the sea, all those tangled nights so near to forever. That this life is traffic and missteps, that the winter sun will burn my flesh, that I am bound to this world by the tensile strength of beauty and dreams. My opening bid is that...
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