Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Jesse West II

I encountered you
at 4:37 p.m.
on the last day of June

somewhere I wasn’t expecting.

I daydreamed
past the nausea I usually feel
the first six seconds
when I see you.

A comforting old friend,
Nausea,

because it means
my eyes and heart
are swimming
circles around you

wishing different moons
were above us;

a moon that sweetly drags
you
with the tide
upon my dark shore.


But here
under this moon;

our wretched
patronizing moon

I am screaming
at windshields

decaying exponentially
faster than you

sleeping unsoundly
insomniatic

without you

on another

black cloud.


Monday, June 29, 2015

Nocturnal Panic Disorder

And that would require
all the terror
I possess

to wake up
in cancerous dark

staring at her
closed, lifeless eyelids

convinced she is either
a shark
or a demon.

Midwestern
Apocalyptic
Summer
Killing

vampiric orgasms
revolving
in the resolution.

With every passing
ghost

dream,
the crow;


black dream.


Thursday, June 25, 2015

Jesse West (a gram of ana)

Ah;
in a chilled raven


hence…





Monday, June 22, 2015

A Maisonic Encounter

these prolific moments of sadistic motion
washing the palpitations
whispering in cold afternoon.

sundressed, the mourning;
frivolous revelations
breathing is starkissed.

Just open your glittering
Eyes enough to
Suffocate me in
Sweet serenity

three
minutes
more

on this
the most wondrous
eve of mediocrity

and we're surrounded
by drunken ghosts. 


Monday, June 15, 2015

Involuntary Inhalations

Another broken summer;
another dream about a storm.

A colder wind
with every quicker mile –

a wraith screaming
sweet staccato

like shovels shattering
porcelain.

All the poetry
has wolves in it;

gusts of wind
like heart arrhythmias.

All the wolves
have poetry in them;

dreaming
like your brain
is still buffering.

If only the world
were sepia toned…

Ethereally sad
and gothic
and cold
and dreary

something nostalgically
depressing


in dead sepia.