River Rise
Posted on August 6, 2018
A river of pain
flows from the fractures
of my crushed soul,
from my inner breaks,
pain pours within me,
a river that cuts
my weaknesses
into hard edges.
It drowns
a piece of me everyday.
Its rumble
plays in my head,
and vibrates under my skin.
Liquid battle drums.
I rise
as waterfalls
crash
in the red canyons
of my heart.
I’m ready.
River Ghost
Posted on August 6, 2018
Salt
Posted on June 25, 2018
Temptresses
Posted on June 25, 2018
An End to Start
Posted on June 25, 2018
Toys
Posted on June 25, 2018
Alive
Posted on May 23, 2018
I have a ghost trapped
in the walls of my eyelids.
At night,
when my eyes shut,
I hear him
pounding on my eyelids.
I hear him trying to escape
as he wonders
why I buried him there,
but when I close my eyes
and I see him,
I remember why.
I dream him,
he tells me stories,
and my tears
write
back to him
on those walls.
When the walls tremble
and I wake up,
my vision blurs and
I see him
everywhere.
This is how I kept him alive.
Love Does Not Retreat
Posted on May 20, 2018
Love does not retreat.
It continues on.
Bloodied and bruised.
Maimed and hobbling.
Love does not retreat.
It dies before it stops.
Love does not retreat.
Love marches forward.
Straight into
your darkest moments.
Love takes shelter
in your pain.
In the house of your agony,
Love sets a table
for one
and drinks a cup of coffee,
waiting,
and polishing its pistol.
You should knock on the door
of your insecurities,
walk into that dining room,
sit with Love,
pour yourself a coffee,
and play that game of Russian Roulette.
Just remember
there are four chambers
in a heart
and Love keeps all four
loaded.
You are going to lose,
but the greater loss
is not sitting at that table,
not having that cup of coffee,
and not sharing moments
before you hear that bullet shell
drop from your heart
and rattle on the floor
of your soul,
still hot,
burning,
like your last sin,
sparking
your house of agony
into flames,
turning it into
a raging red fire,
a layer of ashes landing on
the concrete of your blood.
Love walks away
in the sprawling sidewalks
inside your blood vessels.
That winning bullet
echoes
through the back alleys of your desires
where no crime can be seen.
Love never gets caught.
Love is a way of living
and a way of dying.
Love does not retreat.
Tasting Echoes
Posted on May 7, 2018
Broken Furniture
Posted on April 30, 2018