musing
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hom(e)age
I have done it again as Sylvia Plath would say- One year in every ten I manage it Yet the tulips have never excited me There is a fate in those- in those putrid little buds A sort of crawling malice peeking out of the ground that I crave to ensnare To capture to wither…
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abrasion
You remind me of memories of emeries leaves clouding less of the trees they cover the soil the shards that we walk on they make up dust matted pines little tracks that follow you in white it is air and you flow with wind you are saintly
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continuum
I have made a fool of myself. I have whispered things that make the gods blush, I have recounted the memories on your skin, only for them to become mine. I have traced palms, and lips, and tongue, and have spoken forbidden words. Fingers latched, and legs wrapped, head dizzy. I have become imbued with…
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making a mess of me
It was born blood red in the shape of a placenta that never took form, but carefully cultivated, it was, for the exclusive purpose of becoming a vessel. Pearl shaped and white, an incubator. It was warm, it was soddened. You wanted a thing with no value? We’ll give it to you in tenfold. We’ll…
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sunshine state
I keep telling myself- don’t think don’t think because if I do, I start remembering the shape of her face, how she laughed. I could hear her smile through the receiver of my phone. The color of her hair like crushed pomegranates; she would ask me- should I go back to this hue? I couldn’t…
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Apollo’s Lyre
You come in sevens and tens leaving me on fours, all accounted for and attuned Hieroglyphic fingers, and that string is a yolk stretching my limbs on crossbars The space in between is my heaven laurels and wreaths, and you, my god
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capturing Venus
She only comes alive when spring is near. When light drips Aurelian, the air looking of primrose. It makes one think of rolling waters, bronzed buds; dampened moonbeams sculpted on torsos, her planted mounds atop my flesh. She badgered me with peach-stricken kisses, claret curls of her tongue. Smothering me until I was blue and…
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cut
A slick and clean nick of the skin, horrified brown eyes. She is hurting for you, but you relish in that red. Cold water sizzling on tormented flesh A flap of dilapidated prints melded with iron. One quick stroke of the ragged metal was all it took All it took for you…
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rack and the screw
I, myself, forgot I even existed. I have attached meaningless things to my name, filled my home with unwanted trinkets, neglected memories. But I have not forgotten you. Those sunken eyes. I’d have killed myself trying to see you again, in that sluiced town which held nothing but murky waters. The name is one I’d become familiar…
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the lover
It is unsightly the days you visit. Unwelcomed and perturbed, but invigorating it is. Your jealousy rearing its ugly head at my ephemeral bliss, your claws are never subtle. They are beautiful and ragged, jarring scratches on my heart. It is you dragging me by the roots of my hair, leaving my toes barely grazing…
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eris
I am burdened by the thought of you, you with your four-letter word, pinpricks under the skin. It is calamus and brine. No real appeal to the endearment aside from the fact that you rip the soul apart- limb from limb. You are a fate worse than death. Holding figures on red threads, the promise of that…
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bonds
I’ve been dreaming of you again darling- of your sharp blades, your crass edges eating up my longevity. How easy it always is succumbing to that sliver of servility you gift me with. Nobody makes me crave pain quite like you do.
Éloa 