dusk

white lace & the spooky streetlamps
casting hungry shadows upon your hollow face.
amber skin and silent conversation;
you're eating me alive.

girl meets boy

sugar ashes
black and white
remedies.
false alarms and fireflies.
sour flames, licking
feeding

can't understand a
w
o
r
d.
false alarms and tired cries,
fame-starved poet
eyes.

Found!

We drink the stars
with the promise of 1000
lifetimes crawling beneath our skin, coursing through
our veins, screaming,
"you cannot possibly be prepared for this journey."

We rise to the challenge; we are young and more than naive enough
to believe we can do anything.

We loved as though we were Romeo and Juliet ourselves,
as though the universe had been crafted with care
simply for our eyes to see.

We cried as though we had once owned a breathtaking
pair of wings, only to have them

clipped

leaving us stranded on the ground forevermore - only able
to look at the sky and not feel it; not be with it.

We laughed as though we had single-handedly
found the cure for old age and thrown it out
like a yellowed newspaper.

We danced as though we were in possession of the
very last true and beautiful rock CD on the planet;
as though we could only hear it once more.

We ran as though it was outlawed and we had only
seconds
to feel the breeze - the breeze we created - whip lovingly and madly
across our tired faces.

We kissed as though our very spirits counted on it,
as though we would die right then and there unless we told each other
without speaking
just how much we couldn't bear to think of living our lives separately.

We lived as though we had lost and
would lose again unless we got up early to see the sunrise;
unless we created a place in this world for ourselves. We lived.

"That's all very well and good,"
whispered the promise within our blood, "but what
shall you do with the other 999 lives?"

Or is it ?

The lonely wander with a sense of entitlement. Nothing belongs to them; they like it that way. With nothing and no-one to have, they are free to accept pity, sympathy. What they do not want is change, for one should never change their destiny, and loneliness is surely a destiny.

Acceptance

O skeleton tree,
you beautify madness
and embrace rejection.
my dreams, once alive,
turn to you for
solace.
they attach
to your thin, sturdy limbs
and weakly glow.
you rejoice, for with every
abandonment I create,
you grow stronger.
your roots, embedded within
my dream-heart,
slowly, wondrously, sap my resolve.
one day - for i sense it - i will be but
a memory, and
you
will stand tall.
O skeleton tree, you beautify madness.

A bottle of pretty poison
teetering on the subtle line
between the here and now.

A bottle of pretty poison
collecting sunshine glints
in the fresh summer jour.

A bottle of pretty poison
sitting on my shelf, surrounded
by the dust bunnies of my present.

A bottle of pretty poison
looking just as lovely as
my jar of everlasting life.

Less and less.

restless, restless
I begin my search.

breathless, breathless
I leave you behind.

reckless, reckless
it's all I want to be.

helpless, helpless
it's how I won't be caught.

classless, classless
I refuse to be defined.

fearless, fearless
you can't fucking scare me.

ruthless, ruthless
you don't deserve my heart.

godless, godless
I can only count on me.

homeless, homeless,
I begin my search.