Not you, but meNot you, but meI've crossed every stone,A trail through the bay to your heart.Tossed among sunken ships,Just a wreck in your deepest harbor.You're the coral I cut my knee onAnd the salt in its wound.I swam over you at low tide,Should have known not to.Torn at the seam,No comfort in the folds.Just an old towel hanging outOn the porch to dry.I'm a stagnant bay,sand trapped under my tongue.No words to undo.You drew a line as youwalked away from me.Further and further,A distant island hidden by the clouds.
homeMy heart is tetheredbetween wrought ironand quick tempersIn the house, a man was waiting:silver skin, sharp chineating the remains with his corbeau mouthMy cloaked heart slips through the gate,and past March, April, Junemy palms are stained with the smell of rust,dust and rotting wood under my tongue,unopened mail behind each ribWhat's heavy will hurt.I took a small boat awayHalf way thereI lost my oars(abandoned)Flung and tossed like a childinto the channel"Are you afraid of what's below?"you're just froth below the horizon.you're just a speck in timeThe dark whale should swallow me whole,but instead I lay my head in the day's end,like resting on warm thighsMy mother's own.
An owlWhen I was youngerWe moved into the new housemy father built.In the evening an owl flew in.With heavy wingsit threatened us,cutting through the darkwith hardly any room for flight.My sister and Iheld our breathand played dead until myfather came home.When he saw us he laughedwhile we lay stilland then opened all the windowsto let it fly out.
deservethe poisoned branch,I pulled myself up onto see another.now an ant nest in my heartyou stepped in andleft distraught.
By myselfWhen I'm aloneI steal pieces of night.Without another to share,I eat by myself.The meat is spoilt.Only acid in my throat when I wake.
wolfYou resemblesomeone I once knew.A wolf in the darkpressed against my window again.
the netI'm rot.Was sliced at the gill,thrown near the rocksunder sun and flies.Flesh exposed, a little girl with no t shirt on.Dead amongst scavengers.lost my armor all scattered likeand soaked into the stone.Swam into the net.Thought it would get me there fast.
KnivesknivesMy life through the glass,a million pieces scattered (splinters in my thumbs)A spectrum (colours of fear)Forced through me like knives.Here, smoke and doubt intersects false light.A journey queued. Where I had begun.This time aloneWhat am I fighting for?
:apart:Home again today.Where there is no relief.Not to slowly kiss.Once here was my love to fall into,now my days are just steep.Tonight I sleep alone.and time did not settle me.
a picture of perfectionShe was a painting;not a Rembrant or a Da Vinci...much more vibrant than those, she wasthe fade of Monet,her quirks just shy of a Picasso portrait,and at the same time not quite shy enough.She was a Van Gogh landscape:full and bright and articulate and beautiful-but a real mess up close.Like someone forgot that when you make peoplethey're supposed to stay inside the lines.
when i rise i'll rise above youhe left me witha heart of ashand a soulpraying to bereborn -"this timemake mesomethinganythingless fragile"
GoneGoing far awayObserving the road aheadNever considering going backEnding another chapter of my story
For But a Blinkthere is little grey leftin a sky going white we are too soon to win the struggle for memory, history far too early-on to be trusted see me through me you us we found everything and lost it in the hot blurry state shift of the ember we pretended we weren'ta burning window closes and this brief mess of man is crystallized for but a blink in the snap and crash of its cr
ways we constellate/a. dictitious/iam well-woven.iam a spellthat does not releaseand never tells.these constructionsi allow,and betterawakento speak in hearttonesand hymnbeatson rugged pavements.ihave builtart./b.beautine/this body hasforgotten its infinitebeatings, denieditself the luxuryof acceptancethis body hasremembered its lovers'last names, phone numbers,birthmarks and kindnessthe only cruelty this vessel knowsis from its middlesi have riddled myself intowarmth/c.capabuilt/these handsare imbuedwith patient dynamismand ichorthat the goddessessavorthey have movedmountain rangesand hoisted dark seasoverhead,then returned themdeftlysuch instruments deserve morethan my doubtsihave cloudedthe veins tenacious/d.aitbaar/i allowed thesehands to hold me.i have yet to feellike lessthan a Dalidreammy little ashesare coming closethe Gangeslost its murkto me; i carryremainsi house brokennesstill it is perfectedkintsugi
MemoriesI would spill gasolineOn my memoriesAnd set them on fireIf it didn't implyMelting the outlinesOf my beingSpreading the atomsInto nothingnessAnd losing trackOf my existenceCrafted fromMoments
au(roar)aa shy glow of apologeticsunrises, she will neverknow how beautiful she ishis magpie eyes, they pryat her colours, leavingher with onlythe itch of dried tear tracksat 3 in the morningrough tissues scrape at herdelicate nose,strewn around her like white flowersthat he never gave to her.and he never showed herthe glow of the stars,a bond between this morning girl and the universehe could’veshe would’vethey should’ve beenentwined in dawning light, buthe was a night guard and nightis afraid of staining golden black.so she took the light caged in her heartand threw it intothe abyss of sorry’s and i love you’snever saidas the moth he was,he followed.she wanted him to catcha spark (on fire)instead, he never came back.sometimes the midnight feelswarmer than a sunrise-it guards her and between the blackshe is beautifulfinally, the emptine
Porcelain DollHello,little porcelain doll.It's terrible to see you again.It's the two of ushere in this dark roomStop analyzing me.I'm looking at your flaws tooIf I were to reach outand touch your smooth surfacewould you feel warmto me?Oh little porcelain doll,trapped in a glass boxforced to watch the worldpass you by; never sparing youa glanceThere are cracks trailingup and downyour arms and thighsWhy are you breakingyourself again?I would help to piece youback together butyou would ratherfall apart.Silly little porcelain dollCan't you see I'm damaged too?It's just the two of ushere in this lonesome room,I've got timeour relationship should improveIf I were to reach outand offer you my handwould you returnto me?My dear porcelain doll,we are far from perfectbut life and beautyis something we want to learn about.If I were to love youas you love methen do I have a chance?If I broke the glassand set you freewould you be the betterhalf of me>(though I'd r
misconceptionsand as he paces the cliffs of my ribs with hisfingers and contemplates jumping off,i leave his bruises of purple milky waysat home on my skinand push us both over theedge-hold me tighter, cause i'd rather be a bag of bleeding veinsthan nothing at all
without a goodbyethis is the last time.just empty space and time passingbetween us.I am at the other end of the room,and you have opened all the windowsand doors to let yourself out.