Run

Bad boy, mad boy,

with knife-fight scars on his arms

and a lazy gaze that knocks me to the wall

and freezes words upon my tongue.

I want to run.

But God that voice.

Like the rumbling of a restless earth

echoing my own discontent.

He is six feet, four inches of walking danger,

with too many tattoos, scuffed boots

and bricklayer hands.

Pure bass that pulls me to the ground.

Down, down, down,

to the hunger buried deep,

where orange and red seeps

and pulses between us,

hazard lights flash

a warning clear as day

while an arrogant smile whispers “stay.”

I want to run…

but can’t decide;
to him
or away?

Sadist

My muse is a sadist.
Together we trip, tangled
in the ropes around my heart.
I cry. He smiles.
And life is born.

Burst

Jaded, bitter, borderline.
Suspended in lukewarm oblivion,
I float just below the currents of life,
watching warped realities, like sunlight on water,
dance before my eyes.
They take form, dim at first,
until like fireworks they burst
into brilliance disguised
as words.

Blackbirds

There are a hundred
caged blackbirds
fluttering wildly
in my womb.
Each day their wings
beat harder.
Someday they will
find their way out.
And where will
that leave me...
but broken
and bleeding
and maybe,
possibly,
finally...
free.

blinded

One step at a time.
A good approach
until tears blind us
to the stairs.
Crawling it is.

verboten

Piano arpeggios,
the smell of the stage,
red velvet curtains,
the turn of a page,
faceless bodies
a hushed crowd,
careful words
sung aloud,
a spotlight blinding
your tortured stare,
yet somehow still
you found my chair,
and whispered Brahms
like a verboten
prayer.

Found

I trespass where he hides,
where spring fog hangs heavy
and the sound of the lapping sea
weaves melodies that never could,
never should be,
suffocating the harmony,
quickly disarming me,
I am found.
He steals my weapons
and flees.

misery

Ah dear misery,
ti amo,
friend to
the artist,
and author
alone.

snowflakes

Warm breasts pressed
against frigid glass,
as ice laced lips trip
over words frozen
in my mind,
I shiver in the wind
that howls between
our hands,
"if you dare to touch me now
you'll catch an early death,"
brittle words within my breath
freeze without a sound,
and tremble softly to my feet
like snowflakes to the ground.

sneeze, please

My head is full of words
stacked in neat, orderly, piles,
collecting dust, and waiting
for someone to sneeze.

Peace Potion

Waiting alone
in teardrops and tulle,
playing the fool
in a drama of dreams,
nothing is as final
as it may seem,
shadows loomed
and fears were assumed,
until a sprinkle of peace
in the form of his sigh
arrived to save her
from an unwanted goodbye.

decay

I am nothing but a shell.

A figment in my lovers

long abandoned dream.

An actress in an endless scene.

A flower dying, tired of trying

to blossom and bloom

in a dark, tiny box

cut off from the light,

without any room,

night after night,

day after day

I wither away

in a perpetual,

desolate,

cold winter

decay.

prostrate

I shine as bright as that

little white envelope

lighting up beside your name

and draped in transparency

I offer what's left of me

prostrate on a platter

of impious and purposeless

prayer.

silver merchant

When he speaks
I hear
a silver merchant
pushing his cart to market.
The tinkling, jingling,
of goods on display
that stirs and awakens
a sleeping town.
And the merchant smiles,
crooked, sincere,
at the promise of
a bountiful day.

manipura

Kali-Ma twirls in my root tonight,
leaping, laughing, screaming, loving.
Alive.
Freedom, wild and divine,
running through woods.
One.
My sacral explodes in light,
ignites Manipura,
expanding in spheres,
spinning loose fears,
and I am,
I am,
I am
free.