They Burn

They burn behind clouded optics

hiding from the sights outside,

and they lurk in bloody tissues

as if the sinews that grew

could glue them back together.

 

They burn in deep condensed sheets

a force of breathlessness

driven to uncover what it feels like

to touch sweet air.

 

They burn behind the unseen bars

unable to roll to freedom

lost to the world absent of allure

yet longed for still the same,

for that place

where tears must not fall.

Sadness

Scarlet cries withering,

against chilled cremations

derived from fallen thoughts of hope

never to be scattered amidst flowering fields or

embossed by obsidian desires of others

so lost from humanity and

silence by shame.

Round and Round the Roundabout

The wind tugs –

upon sore muscles now lax,

against bony fingers wrapped around chilled metal,

through thick black strands

of midnight nightmares

that stick to sweat-strewn face

as you open your eyes to reality

from the cocoon of hot sheets.

 

The rain falls –

droplets which spread in unison

dissipating over aching hearts

trembling atop a heart

and I watch

as the dark stain of liquids

spreads across your thighs

your chest

your stomach

and continues.

 

The fog thickens –

till shadows begin to rise,

grasping at dark edges

and hauling themselves out

of their sleepless slumber.

With shapes of rolling obsidian

that caress your soaking frame

leaving charcoal streaks

until from the rain it all blurs

and you become as black as them.

 

The hands push –

sliding across icy surface

nerves now numb for hours past

lost in the timelessness

as I continue to gaze

and push

to keep it spinning –

as if it was a clock

turning back time

until you moved once again.

 

Yet time keeps ticking

and the roundabout keeps spinning

not halting the flow of time.

 

So round and round I watch

as your limp frame

is carried along

the roundabout.

Fleeting Memory

Cream ruffles stroking banal floor

emollient rolls cascading outwards

in external glory it gleams,

aphonic in speech of the mundane,

yet still embodying impermanent knowledge

lapping over the conscious mind

with varnished fingertips

imprint fading

before the sight is even

gone.

The Darkness Slumbers

The darkness slumbers –

a penetrating force shuddering granite stones,

and slumbering giants

whom lie tucked in churning soil

deeper than the human imagination.

 

The darkness slumbers –

while tears run wild

as broken souls wander through war-strewn valleys,

and during the piling of the dead atop homes of hope.

 

The darkness slumbers –

as thickened roots grow longer

a twining rope burning into heated core

searing alongside frozen shadows stretching.

 

The darkness slumbers –

as rain runs red,

as grass grows garnet,

as forests flow falu,

as crows cry crimson,

as valleys vibrate vermillion,

and as stars shimmer their scarlet songs,

sweet lullabies to keep the darkness

from awakening.

Breathless

Violet dances through the atmosphere

teaching weightless secrets to gravities foes.

Wrapping around sloped neck

above bony collarbones

marked with blue

where my fingers used to brush.

It closes in warm embrace

as fibers stretch and eyes begin to raise –

and I find myself trembling in your cold azure seas,

lost amongst the deep sapphire

where unshed dreams hide beneath cresting lust.

 

I let myself glide

hands

stomach

lips

all of me to feel

you’re deflated lungs –

punctured by lost fragments of sanity.

Air begins to be but another lost dream

that I can see in your gaze

as delicate and stiff as all the other

frozen hopes.

 

Then I sense it happening,

muscles weaken,

eyelids droop,

for lack of breath you fall deeper

into the purple scarf

and my arms.

 

As you grow paler

I breathe harder,

hungrily lapping up the air

with the type of lust that I saw you nurture

in yourself.

 

I let myself stroke those collarbones,

feelings them pulsate with a slowing beat

radiating from beneath stretched skin

suddenly too tight to keep your soul inside.

And as I watch those eyelids close

over the oceans that were once my home,

I take in your last exhale,

and leave you
breathless.

I Cry

I cry

because the world no longer has a place

for my two-faced shadow.

I cry

because despair roots deep in

bleeding indigo hearts.

I cry

because mouths keep moving

words keep spilling

yet I remain a statue.

I cry

because normality cannot be expressed

by the unseen girl

with tracks of trailing tears

flooding over cheeks

invisible in daylight.

I cry

because they follow everywhere

plump,

steaming,

expanding,

ready to fill a hollow stomach

with bloated fat,

and a hollow mind

with dark thoughts.

I cry

because my mind is shriveled and compressed

a dead flower pressed between pages –

an imprint of what used to be beautiful.

I cry

because I have nothing left to do

but drown in my tears.

Waving As One

They watch me,
those frothing tips
and rolling waves.
Crashing towards slight frame,
bulbous beneath the moonlight.

Yet before the spray
can touch porcelain skin
to shatter it to pieces
back it’s pulled
by the force
of an invisible hand.

Remorse absent from desolate landscape,
as they moan their endless song
raised from the thousands crushed
beneath their merciless grasp.

Never to break the rhythm
always reaching –
never touching.

Yet I am impervious to the quick death
they offered so many others.
Instead their mouth scrape up me
licking away miniscule scraps
not missed until they’re gone.

For they are waves,
enslaved by the sea,
and I am the sand.

Breathe, when

Breathe, when those around you are laced with syrup smiles

Breathe, when shattered tears are lost as past memories

Breathe, when the stratosphere is ripe with crisp optimism

Breathe, when others bestow upon you their own breath

Breathe, when there is nothing remaining to complete

Breathe, when you sense the darkness ripping

Breathe,when your eyelids feel like slipping.

Don’t breathe, when you’re submerged beneath murky gloom

Don’t breathe, when poison whispers through the atmosphere

Don’t breathe, when Death searches for a victim

Don’t breathe, when light-speckled cities far below call for you to try to fly

Don’t breathe, when smothered by harrowing lies

Don’t breathe, when air isn’t there.

Hemorrhaging Emotions

Abstract red lines of seething

A pattern of my own creation

Thick rage blossoming across stitched mind

as words settle at stomach pits.

 

Thinking you understand

Help twisted beyond meaning

Left alone is desolation.

 

A flourished war cry

Ringing out alone

Knowing nothing

Laughter when gone.

 

A sight of impenetrable reflections

Distorted from one.

Tear filled pools

Leaking from corners

Of shut eyes.