Close the door, please. Open the window please. Stand, in the shadow of the sun. Smile. Make eye contact with the devil’s souls. The ones that leave trails. Fingerprints. Scents. Dance. Mingle. Laugh. Breathe. Mouth the words to myself: Stay calm. Have a drink. Sink; into the temporary release that comes from the gift of … More Only Joking
Thank you to those who follow me here. Poetry is a huge part of my ‘release’ when my brain feels like a 50 car pile up instead or a squealing train. I know I could do both here, but I wanted to separate the madness, from the effort it takes to slow myself down to … More Madness vs Grammar
There is a weakness in the voice of the man who bends only to gawk. The man who believes that valour always settles in an attractive sort of subtle distinction on his suit of shining armour. There is a weakness in the man who wants so badly to drape a flower on his arm, and … More Weak Knights
I have ligature marks on my ankles, from the rope that I use every day. I fasten the weights of observed pain and of of expected guilt, of spoken sorrow, and of your mournful shame to my dulled and tired body, and I climb into the water again. I don’t want to drown. I don’t … More Manotonous
I was scratching through a few old albums J, and I found a few real corkers 😛 Love you babe.
Only half done, the sleeve… but I am pleased. Four ravens. Four souls carried from here to there. As for the giant one on my leg – that’s my soul, and she can wait. She tried, and she failed, so the lesson was learned. There is still strength in fragility. Beauty in broken wings. And … More Moving On…
So I have spent most of this week – for real – trying to figure out if you (my dear J) are more like the hot green chick who kicks ass, or the small impulsive fox who has some serious anger issues in Guardians of the Galaxy. I have watched the movie several times with … More My Reflexes are too Fast. I will Catch it.
Immaculate deception, Intricate perfection, like crisp white sheets, ironed with experience, and flattened out with knowing hands. To hide the sin-stained and very, very ugly used and frayed mattress beneath. The whores, cleaner than the floors. The john, in the corner praying- for forgiveness. He doesn’t know yet, what for; All he knows is he … More You Can’t be Gay
… after she died I breathed in the sorrow of everyone else. It was so thick and so heavy. I didn’t bend. I didn’t lean. Or need from anyone. I let it all unfold, and I let them all grieve in the way they they needed to. Then, someone showed me the video of her … More Gone.
My eyes are as dry as my Whiskey glass. My chest is as hollow as the days gone past. My lips smile red, and my words lull you to sleep. But you are failing to see the secrets I keep. The lullaby i whisper, and the bows that I tie. The gift of sweetness, right … More ‘Cept When There is No Blood