Trust

i have spun this web
with words unsaid
upon a bed of sorrow

love ne’er ebbs
though in her stead
i dread to face
the wakeless morrow

broken vows of death’s departing
spoken with a silver tongue

cloaked in shards
from shattered hearts
enshrouded by the blackened sun

seconds fall at fevered pace
as life does from this land of lust

where all intentions turn to waste
and hurt is what we earn for trusting

Not Even Death

and here we are
yet living
on this eve of lost idyll

i am no more able
to feel your touch
than sorrowed skies retreat

the passing hours
grow ever darker
my lair has turned to dust
unsettled

roaming on this plane
alone
in search of any senseless reason

the more i look
the more i find
my mind is but a distant ruin

littered with the consequence
of time’s relentless ire

as truths unravel
by its hands
extending far beyond
the grave

where now
not even death
can stand to save us

Stoic Submission

even now
when thoughts of her
affronting love’s convention
have shuffled off
the consequence
befalling our mistake

do trails tell truth
of hours attending
context tread anew

disavowing fated remnants
lingering devoid of interest
bleeding web of understanding
weeping reaped
sown of her seed

in retroactive disillusion
memories become unraveled
like the sutures
faintly tethering us
at the tearless seam

so it seems
as days unfolding
shattered moulds
tinged with decay
hinging on pending perspectives
shifting lights shine
fears display

in the barren sands of ruin
truant cheeks
turned weak of will
baring thoughts i pray not bear

surrendered to stoic submission

The Sleepless Hour

drowning
in the darkness

silence
rests upon her lips

i long
to lift my leaden head

paralyzed
by thoughts of living

seconds drifting
in and out
from borrowed backgrounds

sitting in the circle
of regret
and rotting earth

thoughts of her
tormenting
pages shorn
to show an ending
spurned

still
her laughter echoes
through the frigid nights
of empty air

poisoned
by the voiceless peril
slithering through
meadows maddened

striking with a force
unfounded
never was her kiss
denied

but shallow whispers
lay awake
to court the
shadow’s song of ruin

through the forest
whence we stumbled forth
to greet the sleepless hour

Profound Mechanism

what an oddly profound mechanism memory is
to be able to hear
the exact sound of someone’s voice
from years ago just by imagining it
to be able to vividly picture
a scene from a bygone era
whilst simultaneously looking
at the reality of the present moment
to summon the irreplicable symphony of flavors
rendezvousing upon the tongue
from a cherished dish
whose creator is no more
to behold the sweet scent
that once had found your senses
rapt in an erstwhile lover’s embrace
to revisit the feeling
of fleeting ideals
whence they fooled you into falling
for what you thought would be forever
foundations are ever shifting
in the light of newfound context
tragedy reshapes the stories
locked within our mind
knowing that the day will come
when all that we might stand to muster
swiftly turns to dust swept away
by a lonesome gust of wind
and this, the only truth
that we might ever trust in
it is for this very reason
we must live
within each moment
to foster our experience
as though it were untold
to leave a bold impression
that we one day might recall again
when all is lost as we retreat
into death shrouds of our own making

On a Saturday Morning

wake up
just to not
give a fuck

torn
from the only place
where i have
any worth

cursed to face
isolation
without hope
for solution

in this
hypnic delusion
of my cryptic submission

cigarette-lipped confusion
fuck
it’s hard
just to type shit

this
as good
as my life gets

i can’t quit
and yet, i did

with this pill
that i swallow

maybe death
will soon follow

on a saturday morning
and she’s not in my arms

there’s a draft
slowly drifting

into yesterday’s clothes
on an old
beat-up mattress

that some rat
made its home

i had bought
a humane trap

but i can’t bear
to tear him

from his only known dwelling
because i know the feeling

in the attic of heartache
it’s a static illusion

i can’t take
much more of this

not without
her love’s solace

on a saturday
so low

with my rodent companion
i refuse to abandon

unlike her
with her hand
down the pants
of a strange man

i guess we are all victims
of a silent affliction
where we scream
but no sound comes
only numbness
of conscience

bleeding truth
in her absence
in the attic of loss
left
on a saturday
mourning

with this rat
my only friend

Fractured Hearts

fragile hearts
composed of fractured shards
of selenite
soon fall
from the silence
strewn long
throughout the night

some will dissipate
upon the kiss
of eclipsed atmosphere

while others infiltrate
the earth’s defenses
waiting to be found

is this power
within my pen
enough to stay
disappointment?

can these sunken eyes
sustain the curtain’s calling
dirt and all?

through these weary eyes
of stinging
i fail
to see the answer

no longer does water well
in the aqueduct
of quiescence

and gone
is any semblance
of the joy
that once we knew

having joined
the desperate masses
as envoys of muted morass

precious hours spent
relentlessly toiling
for elusive spoils

spanning the breadth
of a breathlessness
unbridled

’til our heads withered
wayward
down the trail
of idle absurdity

as frail
as the feathered waif
unhidden
on a leaf-barren poplar

sonically assailed
by a hail-tinged doppler shriek
with a tail that spanned the ages

Within Your Arms

you justify
the sentence
in this prison
of the flesh

by the merit
of an offhand touch

leaving me
in study
at the basin
of the desert sun

tending
to each bead
of salted dew


just the slightest hint
of your florid rendezvous

more than piques
a passion
poised to sate
the quenchless gods

when the skies
have shuffled off
the blaring beams
of inquest

urgency finds me
at your behest

at last
within your presence
every sense caressed
by vibrant coils

all divergent seas
now coalesce
upon your breast

as we soar
through stolen
secrets
from these realms
of the Akashic

trails of our assimilation
scintillate our wake

all the stars
bespeckling
the stretching blackness

bear no sweeter fruit
than a single second
spent within your arms

precious
as the poignancy
of truth’s
most perfect pattern

O Songbird

o songbird
of restive mind
thy repertoire vast

as the moonlit masquerade
cast upon the empty bed
of night

piercing requiem
tunneling through
the void
of vanquished mirth

the shrill
of sordid regrets
and disquiets
arisen
from the garden
of agateophobia

like a raving mockingbird
ravaged by truth

feathers hewn
with latent farewell
faintly clinging
to a page
from the past

sing to me
all i have lost

let each note
ring out
as once it
ran me through

before
the great fault
slid the sea
‘neath the desert

and prosody
felled
by god’s languorous sigh

where senses
once flourished
with the triumph
of Typhon

pray let thy song
lay this hardship
to rest

Solitude of Oblivion


all life
desires love

along myriad planes
of consciousness

to have been born
is to possess
the capacity to love

the intrinsic furnace
that burns within
every star

mirrors
that which exists
within each heart

allow not
the perception
of separation
to divide us

lest we spiral
into the solitude
of oblivion