once upon a time

foxglove princess
twinkle in her step.
baby-blue breath of
change and kept
promises.

feel it

ruby. amber. mint. tangerine. sky. lilac. lavender. honey. snow. berry. rich. deep. golden. sea. leaf. bright. moss. espresso. rose. butter. mellow. light. cream. apple. neon. soft. dirt. peach. sunshine. metallic. midnight. pale. storm. grass. lava. aqua. ice. fresh. blood.

fire

i feel like i've aged a lifetime
always once
never more.
streetbugs take my
night and spit
it out.
"walk with me,
walk with me."
you are my curve.

wouldn't it be nice

steel tulips
butter wasps
jelly pebbles
water leaves
razor kisses
concrete shadows

nonsense

to the moon and back
i went for you,
with a mission for the passion that tasted so new.

heated skies
apple pies
tenderness and
broken pieces.
pick them up and slam them back;
let them
coat your throat.

my sweet surprise,
your metal eyes
have turned my heart to stone.
now i roam
these concrete streets
dreaming for a home.

amber, ruby, golden
sunbeams
light me up but
put me out.
saccharine sunsets are old news
without familiar upsets.

to the moon and back
i've been for you.

playing with fire

seize the sun
let if filter through your
fingertips, sashaying
to the rotten ground below.

those warm sparks of golden life
can give you the world
or burn you senseless,
until you are
unrecognizable
even to your creator.

so if you seize the sun
remember to let it go.

rouge kisses our skin
softly, leaving
no trace
of our former selves.
she melts into orange,
amber, butter yellow.
curves are lost yet celebrated,
worshipped
in this liquid fire.
falsehoods are no more -
all that is
is what we are:
young,
free,
and above all,
------------- rouge.


For Kalin.

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.

Iridescence.

awash in an iridescent echo,
my former self can only wait,
held captive by the empty sound
of a love
..............long
.....................lost.

.

The never-ending, monotonous days of my life
are enough to break the strongest
and enough to define the weak.

It's 12:42 AM.
I'm done.

Wanderlust.

you're dipping your toes into inky oblivion
watching over your shoulders for the Past.
you find she isn't here today, and so,
you reluctantly
relax.

the darkest of waves are keeping you company
while you wait for your next Sign.
as if on cue, it dutifully arrives,
and you heave a beautiful
sigh.

the ship, it seems, is waiting for you,
and while you're a tad unsure,
the billowing sails tug at your heartstrings,
and you find yourself leaving the
shore.

there's just one problem, my dear friend;
you never washed off the ink.
And now, as you plan to leave your Past,
she follows you, hoping you'll
sink.


For Tomcat.

Old people may be on to something.

"I can feel it in my bones; there's a storm coming."

"Well, Grandma, I can feel it in my feet; I'm dead lonely."

Lace wisps.

Sometimes it's all one can do to restrain from visiting old haunts of the heart forevermore.

It can only do more harm than good.

Nod your heads in unison, little ones.