They travel in abhorred clarity

translucent against smeared past scenes

as they walk through white walls;

supposedly transcendent in emulation

of the remiss of society; archaic nightmares uncovered

by truncated whispers echoed out

from mouthless visages.

Even the trepid quail before these impermant forms

for although their shape may tremble and disassociate

their instillation of trepidation endures.

As placid fervency drives

the venerable mysteries.



Violet streaked girl

Raven strands settled between the stars

and speckled white shirt – encompassing the universe.

Those pinpricks human skin

blending with pale planets hanging in the sky,

Porcelain skin untouched by the dark matter

and watched by sparked flames

residing in eyes reflecting the galaxies secrets.


Tipping forward

the brown grows only bigger

toes clinging to the edge

lashes tickling my face

A brush of wind –

and then I fall

into your eyes.


Black lips smudged upwards –

a charcoal grimace

formed after remnants of a broken mask

were retrieved from licking fire

it’s insides dark.


Yet for all the glue

the tape

the fixing

the hours spent healing

only a new mask rests upon your eyes

staining fair skin dark

as horns curve out

tipped with russet orange

as if dipped into the thoughts in my mind.


Still the grimace remains

as depthless eyes gaze out,

opaque in terror

and sightless in death.

The Forest’s Secrets

We stood among the spindle trees; letting their frozen fingertips tangle in our figures and the soft earth from which they fed to line the rough soles of our feet with bashful kisses. As we crouched low the strands of our hair caught and were held aloft, creating a spiderweb of russet and caramel. We watched one another through the tickling light, the shadows of our faces only growing stronger, till like the moon, craters of darkness completed our complexation. Yet despite the omniscity of our bodies our eyes were fixated. Across matching pale cheeks and sunken eyes they traveled, as the air shivered with the mingling thoughts of intimacy. The trees sighed their withered songs of the future, watching as fingertips met. Two hands, identical in hidden matrimony. Each grew colder than the other, until their blood became so icy that it began to burn. Like fevered passion it swept up their arms and up to their faces, which twisted in the light and gleamed speckled smiles. As their hair brushed, intermingling with a whisper of osculations, their faces tilted. They fell together then, until finally two lips met and their tainted eyes shut, blocking out the prying sun so that they were alone and just another secret that the forest kept.