BLEEDING LANGUAGE

Who knew words could bleed like that, could seep so deep into the paper?
The black ink seared into memory, burning its message into the intangible flesh of
thought-permanent, a written brand.
So very sorry to have read that secret, regretted the meaning scribbled randomly across its stained page.
The jumbled band of letters so carelessly tended- instilled a trembling sense of humility, interposing
some overlooked facet of himself.
Those words were his, should have belonged only to his eyes- laid open in ignorance for all to read-
revealed him in all his humanity.
Who could have known words could sting like that, bleed like that?
Who knew he could cry like that?
Dripping and pooling, the language blends and fades away, leaving only a damp blemish,
A formless puddle resembling those words that echoed so hauntingly.



SUPPRESSION

Sinking...
down the ashen disappointment,
thickening stones settling, constricting within
confining loss
push sensation into an abyss of self- sullen… indifferent
take the rejection deep into flesh, burry it
lest another view the weakness inflicted there
never allow another to glimpse the hurt
mask this slip with apathetic eyes and furrowing brows-
makeshift remedy
only remnant, strangled desire-
twining bitterness of should have been
so many moments lost to
this cyclical failure




One drop falls slowly
from the still air,
joining the muddy puddle
with a muted splash.
Only the delicate ripple
marks the passing of another tear
as it falters downwards.
It’s a beautiful dance of melancholy
as tear follows tear,
sliding to the earth
like a gentle requiem.



OF GLASS

You and I-
with greasy burned out sillouettes
slide down dirty counter tops
Where coal refelections
Dance off the raw, cracked facets of ourselves
Drawing up cold and hard every drooling bruise

In-between us burns glass like charred crystal
Those hungry shards that cut so close
Tearing your flesh into angry red welts
Dangerously near radial arteries
Dangerously near revelation

Another fragmented day lost
like those scars you never mention
in this desperate rehashing of lives,
ground into the cracks of grungy floors
Not even we remember the number of times
and ways we’ve glued ourselves together again
We just march on across backward ashes
of every time before.

And at times I wonder why I bother
when I know these words, pooling beneath my tongue,
mean so little to you
And I wonder why they should

You deserve something more
than this glass poetry of mine
You deserve something more lasting-
than me



there was life unfolded there,
pages of tears- death too,
an ending deep in
one faded yellow envelope.
with words she died and perhaps
lied once or twice inside.
her dream shut itself on her,
and she, unlucky child,
turned and walked away,
knowing nothing of herself



CURSING YOU

I’m tired of this unrelenting void that occupies
the space of you in my life.
I wish fizzling rivers of carbonated tears would
burn your cheeks into sticky crystals, shatter-soft

and fatal. Then perhaps you will be as fragile as
I feel and know this familiar aggravation of regret

not once, but infinitely in your lifetime.
I hope you never feel inspired to compare love

to life and may loneliness plague your ego,
for, ever since you left me alone

I’ve been inverted and revised until words
mean nothing and dreams do lie. So graciously

now, I send to you this inconvenience of the heart
that will bloom and fester deep into a mirror of myself.




She smiled sweetly
and proffered the two objects she was holding:
Gun or dagger?
(the means of his demise)
I took neither,
but instead beat him to death with my shoe.
Afterwards I cursed that dead bastard for all I was worth-
for I’d broken a nail.