Sunday, February 26, 2012


I break complex things into simple colors.
All pieces of me.

Friday, February 24, 2012

words words words

Beneath the smog rainbow
I calculate my fate.
I found a neat little patch of grass
to freeze and let time pass.
There’s no darkness here,
but there will be soon.
For the sun is setting
on the peak to my back,
and the glass is settling
on the moon strait ahead.
I look for a star,
to make a wish, but the only one
I see is on an unlit ruby-neon sign
above a hotel.

Meet me here, my dear.
In any form you want.
Be it the rain or trees or shadow approaching.
Just not the smog rainbow.
For though it is vast and beautiful, like you
it fades away all to quickly.

The cinders,
in Her eyes,
And the dark little ring
that holds it all in,
if you choose to listen,
you can hear it sing.
She steps forward from hell.
My heart is in my mind
and my mind is in my chest
the void.
I call them my veins,
as they throb
cold lightning
to the tips of my toes.
Her tears are liquid
She pulls out a sharpened rose
from velvet a sheath.
As my gut,
strong as can be,
becomes a raging blender
full of pearl teeth.
She decides to whisper,
just a word.
It wriggles up my spine
like a frosty finger,
before finding my ear.

Bitter Sea,
that’s Her name.
And it fits
like horns on the Beast.
She said I need to bleed
to know what’s truly inside,
but I couldn’t face the cherry stampede
so I took a sleeping pill instead.
Swimming in pillows
through my silken Styx bed,
I saw her,
like ash in steam,
drip away,
pepper green.
And after that
it would seem
that everyday,
I’m just waking
within a new dream.
Reality is written
with the words in my mind.
So perhaps there’s a way
to become lucid in the light of day.
Pinch me,
because Truth is undefined.
Lynch me,
and I’ll turn the rope into a snake.
Fear is perception’s favorite door.

She speaks to me sometimes
in my own voice.

can kill the pain,
if you merely destroy its receptors.
can return
to that stillborn tomb,
warm as a womb,
where wine flows like hellfire.
With me.
Perchance to see heaven at last.
And you,
just like ash in a dream,
can drip away,
    tattered green.

Après Moi le Deluge

Déjà vu as you die, clearly true, that’s a lie.
She looked at me, as she sang a song that spiraled into nothing.
When February floods arrive
I shall cry
ink from my pen,
and watch with a smile
as brilliant stars rain down like flurrying snow,
leaving Spring as a smolder.
I wont remember how
cold fades into fey
as roots whisper near
my bones bleed as clay
sculpted for veneer.

 Cry, my love, but please, don’t shed a tear,
              for once they fall from your perfect jade-eye
   they harden to diamond, colored fear,
                            and fall not towards the unholy dirt
but up, unto itself: 
     the sky.
A tower, dry,
and nothing less,
than flowing thought
playing chess.
You’re lovely when you’re hopeless
that’s a lie.
Just know, that pain merely seems
clearly true. But
there isn’t eternity
as you die
only duality, frost, and
déjà vu.

I want to drink a glass full of Her tears
not because her sorrow pleases me
but because I cant imagine anything so pure
and sustaining.
But the diamonds would cut my throat.

If she told me she loved me
my soul would ascend to heaven
that very moment.
And it wouldn’t matter the darkness and pain my body felt
for my heart would forever be a piece of the infinite light. Everflowing.
But she wont.
So my soul is destined to be dragged down,
anchored to the bleakness
of my mind.
Becoming sad,
becoming hollow,
and inhospitable.

But I still see the moon. Glowing through the smoky clouds.
And my heart still reflects its love, into a million hues
Vast and timeless
No one will see.
And I still have the dream
where I hold her so close our golden skin becomes one
and our wings let us spiral out safely over the chaotic once blue ocean
 of blood and bullet shells
into eternity
to build our own heaven, devoid of saints and gates
to build a new light.   

Wednesday, February 22, 2012