Queen Size Coffin

And we run

but our words lie

flat.

So much so –

I’ve fallen in love

with the sound

of falling down.

No melody

as unmercifully

beautiful

          translucent

                   ethereal

as hitting the concrete

during the downpour;

blood running

thicker than water –

our bloodwater

running away

without us.

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.