I see you in the bruises,
like galaxies
And I still taste you on my teeth,
blood plasma
and arteries
Clotting but not healing
My heart
And the beating.
My Baby
My Baby’s
playing in the dark again,
she’s got me soaking up the night,
submerging me in kerosene,
she’s got me waiting on her light
Invade
You are the rule
And I was made to break
Told not to trust the pulse
Between my legs
But I crave all
Your bloom and decay
You are the empire
And collapse
Of biblical ways
Conquer me
Unconfined
Crossing, penetrating
You are the invade.
Alien
It was you and your alien technology
That made me
All your chemicals and electricity
The Forest
We laughed in marvel at the dust between our toes
Heads thrown back in our hammock, dangling like pendulums
You said we wouldn’t fall
But I did fall
Into the sky reflected in your eyes, like twirling topaz
Glistening as we danced, danced, danced
Amidst electric trees
And I wanted to weave my fingers through
The spaces between your own
When we felt a celestial breath, like beating wings
That moment when The Forest pulsated
Within our flesh and bones.
Land Mine
I replaced his words with crowded bars
and empty promises with broken bottles.
This dulled out town is the graveyard for ‘us’
Another jewel upon a land mine,
but in a world full of places
where something has gone to die.
I’m just happy to have held onto something, so pretty.
The moment the blast scattered me into the sky.
My Apocalypse
My apocalypse boy,
You are the poverty
You are the poetry
You are the iron in my flesh.
You are the violent
You are the noble
You are the pandemic in my head.
Obsession
There’s something so tragic about him.
She peels off pieces of her skin and he collects it.
They call him obsessive, its’ endless humiliation.
She’s as addictive as confession.
There’s something so dirty about him.
She eats into his soul like a cancer and he accepts it.
He Brings Her Flowers When She’s Manic.
He knows she’s not a Sunday afternoon;
With clean blood and organized drawers.
Her thoughts spin like fire poi
When no one else is alive or awake.
She’s his Tyler Durden,
Evolving and falling apart at the same time.
Deliriously in love with a world,
Extracted from a nightless sleep.
So he listens closely to her laughter,
Because it holds all her frustration and fear
He brings her flowers when she’s manic.
Thrift Shop Flower
There is a ship wrecked beauty about her
Rose petals caught in barbed wire
But she’s out of control
drunk today and hung-over tomorrow.
She only chases with broken sunrises
and gunpowder boys
She’s a thrift shop flower,
A formaldehyde girl.
S.Mew 