Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Queen Size Coffin

And we run
but our words lie


So much so –

I’ve fallen in love
with the sound
of falling down.

No melody
as unmercifully


as hitting the concrete
during the downpour;

blood running
thicker than water –

our bloodwater
running away

without us.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Lacerate & Puncture

What a warped midnight;

some winter version
of an alternate Thursday.

Nothing was right
on the wine-stained carpet

nothing was wrong
on the blood-stained ceiling

nothing was found
on the sky blue sheets

frostbitten near the window

ice instilled on gray

Grey inscribed
on the creases of your sleep.

A crown
a cask
a collective effort
of counterfeit conundrums;

I can’t unearth
your misery

for another afternoon.