Trappings

The trappings we drag, for the overnight stay in the damp, dark, cold to the touch; parts of the hell that we personally designed just for moments like these; when the world feels too small for how much we don’t feel.

Move it, Sunshine.

On a hill where wars were once waged, sits a willow that weeps when it rains. It calls to the gods with each blow through the sky; earthed in the pasts remains. The faces and sounds and bloodied grounds; a twisted carnival of shame; hard to breathe even harder to believe that the sunshine isn’t … More Move it, Sunshine.

Dreaming of Hell

Tonight, I am afraid to sleep; for fear I will sink too deep. Past the mangled red trees, where reason can’t reach, and into that place where the lost ones weep. Wail. Mourn out loud of wisdom stolen in foolish folly or worse; a second of disconnected dispassion. Hell. The carcass that still lives. The … More Dreaming of Hell

She Bled Red Wine

I wrapped her, in red ribbon. I breathed against her skin, and heard her thoughts crashing against the inside of my skull, like bones clicking when stretched too far. She ached. Though I didn’t know why. Nor could I ask. Not yet. Her eyes changed colour with each mechanical snap of the lens. A flash … More She Bled Red Wine

Boxes Undone

In the aftermath of the tippled boxes come undone; ribbons untied, and words scraped from corners of a pale skinned mind, unrefined; do I say I am sorry? When I was just a girl, in dresses printed in sunshine and sewn together with trust, I learned that words mean very little. Unless, they cause an … More Boxes Undone

Empty

Forget me knot, the tangled mess that interrupts. The silence that pushes back. The wordless forgiveness in the slack. The humanity in the tunnel vision. The peace in the quietness in the monotony of level headed dispassion. I forgot how to love, today. Was more of triggered mental delay; a test in compassion. On how … More Empty

Dear Soldier

Your restlessness has not gone unnoticed. Your heavy heart can be heard through the thin walls; it clangs like tins being dragged behind, tied mercilessly to lame footed, wearisome prey. Near surrender. Your pacing has marked the floorboards. Worn bare the carpet, exposing the pattern of your minds repetitive rhyme. Slowing down your own time. … More Dear Soldier

I Burn

I get confused. The jackets made from the skin of the underdog, worn with a dismissive self importance. I dont like the familiar, but I will forgive the stranger – until he starts to button up that swagger. Until the corners of his lips curl, at the expense of a poor man on his knees. … More I Burn

Birthday Poem for J

With each spin of a gods coin, the constellation of dots join, with each swipe of the palm across salted face, and each footstep in  or out of any place; notes are taken. Words are spoken. Nothing is token. Even when it’s broken. Each year that scolds, each day that unfolds, every single moment, breathtaking … More Birthday Poem for J