Tag Archives: night

My Last Night

I charred their bones that night when I let the snow fall up my nose. Convincing myself that falling stars were meant to breathe in like the Indian breeze is meant for scorched skin. My sin was begging for snow. … Continue reading

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The philosophy of Santa

The crickets know my first name sdrawkcab|||backwards and annunciate in puzzles so the night is far less dim to my senses. Our pieces shade contrast. We break-even in consequence, my answers whisper for irrelevance as joy sleighs in the sky. … Continue reading

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When my smile fades

I fog into the twilight where window shields the heart. One tap– we break apart. So realize that yesterday was never meant to be a serenade. I was merely mouthing to your veins, referencing the time you seal with a … Continue reading

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they call it a panic attack… or acid flashback

i timed how many thoughts left and made their way past the moon. why did i drape in smoke? my thumbs stay active, flicking ashes, pretending sanity can be caught through a filter; i’m done spinning webs of my own. … Continue reading

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where wolves swing

validate our animus before the moon comes closer, it will swing. come closer, let us swing. light beckons, light becomes me. await my animal before the moon gets closer. Hear my scream, get closer, this may sting. * response to … Continue reading

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Sun-kiss me tanner…

From this city, air descends moisture in hot reflex. Life reaps copper yet we crowd in sleeves of spite. Let’s undress in a filtered lens so motley complexions can relieve stale skies. I will scrape until you fall. Assume me … Continue reading

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You’re Immortal in my Sky

Mutable sincerity sounds of crickets skipping throughout my torso in ostentatious breath so vivid in pursuit, so perversely aligned within exaltation. I wish to exhale you fully. Expire these daydreams. I withdraw beads of sweat and string our contrast, always in conflict, … Continue reading

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Siravyadha

Bloodied moons reap in iris’ through whispering clouds over the hollow night. His placid gaze reflects a ring around the rosy. My pneuma is wounded as I am contrast of onyx skies. Only I am attainable, with charcoaled center– brittle … Continue reading

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Her Request

Respect me like a saxophone dipping in the sky as though every star fell for Alabama that night.

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Thieves

It’s in the five o’clock shadow that moonless knights steal Georgia O’keef’s paintings to prove erudite.

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