Feeling far too deeply,

covered in dust from the stars.

Lopsided breaths

embedding into your chest-

your callous hands,

into my scars.

Hums and beats pulsating

on my neck-

against your tongue,

and between your gnawing teeth.

Our impatience,

further bruising our marks.

Words breaking,

the shattered pieces

skirting your throat.

Digging, melting, forming

scarlet gashes,

and silver archs.









I know now,

that the way your lips lingered on mine

long after your tongue

had taken my breath away

had everything to do with the way your orange heat

singed against my cold hands

and scarred my rotting flesh-

only to break open the fragile, pregnant, effervescent orb and

let spill the molten gold from our throbbing veins.


I see now,

that the petals from the white flowers

blown about us by the whims of the bastard winds,

stuck to the liquid leaking into the blue-black shadows

of the cider trees

after they disentangled themselves from your ruffled hair

giving my dead fingers another vain excuse to thread through the grass

and get drunk

to the sound of the startled bird’s fluttering wings.


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Even with tempests

circling the skies,

I hate how I smile

at your beautiful lies.

How the thunders

seem not so wrong

And the despicably bright thought

that it can stay the same

all day long.

I hate how you know

exactly what to say

And how I let the thought through

the melting cracks in my mind

that you’re there,

come what may.

I hate it because Lord knows

we’re fatal together

A burning match

and a crumpling feather.

Because you are and have always been

a whirlwind

And I,

a screaming storm:

begging for something to make my skin

feel more like skin.

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Take my finger, take my hand,
Take me to that nameless land.
Where they don’t know whence I come
And to where I shall go.
Where my name is just a sound
And my face unknown.

Where I can stare at the carousel turn,
Where the fire blazes but it can’t burn.
Take me there, for then I will breathe in
And my edges won’t be so rough.
Take me there, and just maybe
I will be enough.




It is a game of stealth, my eyes thieving a glance at you, yours catching mine.

The air is robbed of space by a tingling heat; the lungs of air, by a crime.

It is a game lost, when the sense is on my neck-of you walking towards this defeat.
The loss is not an ordinary one, when your heat through all those layers, seeps right into me.

It is a game surrendered, when your palm comes down to my waist and your mouth down to my nape.
Our eyes both close- a submission of sorts, and a realization that futile are the drapes.

It is a game of unbridled haste- the layers snatched off of bodies, nails suddenly raking the skin down.
The eager lips crashing against each other, the frantic mind a litany of your name, and the senses drown.

It is a game of gasps and breaths, when one hand presses me against you, the other southbound.
An unthinking vacillation of air between my mouth and your skin, fists in your hair, pulling like a hound.

It is a game out of control, when your lips decide to follow your hands.
Our heads croon- dipping and leaning, we’re perfectly directionless and the bothered thoughts slip out like sand.

It is a game of noises and sounds, a curse, a moan, a nonsensical string of them- far from tame.
Your hums reverberate, your kisses on me mark, and I still don’t know why we take each others’ name.

It is a game of music, I think, when you stir back up and your fingers on me seem to play a crazy song.
The searing eyes write the words, the tugging lips and teeth tell the tune, heaven knows for how long.

It is a game of constellations, I begin to believe, for stars are what I see.
How can I pull you closer, how can I fill up any more space, you can’t shine any brighter when you’re already in me.

It is a game that no longer makes sense, your forehead in my hair, your voice in my ear telling me you’re there.
The world has boiled down to our bubble- and we break, break and send flames through our bodies, sparks into the air.

It is a game of the places that still touch, when bodies crumple down to a heap and the mist slowly parts.
Sweltering eyes still meet to tell the stories untold, the fists still clench, the hearts rule- dismissing the brain to the dark.

It is a game for players just like us, the ones who play and cry and yearn and while.
We’re masters of these guilty tricks, the worlds wait to see- who is to win this game of crimes and who is to smile?





There I was, an emotion you shunned from validation, an effortless wisp of smoke, a tress of it that could unfold without trying. Unproblematic and unforced- there, but on its own. A sentiment that doesn’t sail on the tides of profits and losses, sense and sensibilities, but a sunrise- that transpires, makes things glow in its wake, makes you feel touched, sensed, understood but then leaves and passes into nothingness, only to come back- all on its own.

And there you were, filling me up in the hours that we spent together, an ephemeral afterthought in the others. The personification of my emptiness, an escape.  A substantiation of self-worth; replaceable, meaningless, fragile, temporary but still, happiness. A thin, thin blanket that let me fool the ghosts of the dark night- both inside and out, let me fool myself into the bliss of oblivion. Like a touch of gold in the grey- having the reputation of disappearing at its will, but beheld nonetheless.

To think of it, we were pretty similar things to each other in some ways, very different in others. It was the desperation that lit up the fireworks; the hopelessness that kept the incense burning. The lonesomeness that ordered our muscles to move towards each other; the fear of regret that could never order them to move apart. The dread of yet another heartbreak that kept us from becoming something more; the stupid, stupid chemicals in our brains from regressing into something less.

Some would say a leap of faith, a blind fall into the chasm- guided by nothing but fate is how we should live these moments. Experiencing the blinding, reckless, overwhelming emotions flow without valves or dams or prudence. Letting it consume and engulf us, letting the lips crash, the teeth bite, the bodies sublime.

But it was us.

Almost there, almost touching, almost not touching, almost dismantled.

And so, with the irrevocability of the whole affair, the precaution and the system set in place, a comedy of tragedies featuring two cowards played on and on. Time, the singular judge to tell us if even the heartless taste heartbreaks. The curtain rising and falling, words spoken and thought, the story moving but the people not.





My trembling hands hold on to each other,

And you thought you knew me?

My shattering, crumbling mind mends itself with powers that have long since ran out, the winds the only constant in my collapsing bubble,

And you said you’d hold me?

Darling, it is a dazzling catastrophe;

Your eyes stare at it, but do they see?

That even when the blood trickles down, even when it flows,

The heart beats.

The skies may rain and thunder, they may storm,

But the hands reach.

That even when fists clench, and the knuckles go white,

There’s a scream.

For my knees can’t hold me up;

I think out loud, maybe it is those winds that carry me in a cup.

And maybe they can, for all of eternity, honey, not more.

Then, the strings will snap and I’ll unfold.