Recently, I recall…

This Week in April

I think this day wasvery important to mein a distant past.We grew older together,In a different future.

Ghosted

Phantom thoughtsPhantom memoriesPlay out to meIn reverieA reminder for meWhat I was meant to beOr how I seem to beBy eyes too keen(or rather too blind to see)that what they perceiveIs a phantom of meIsn’t meCan’t beBecause I’m gone ghostedinterruptedfuture haltedtrapped on read.

I don’t know

I don’t know what you want,I don’t know what I can give,I don’t know where this will go,I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do,When even inspiration leaves me.

Aphrodisiac

Heartbreak is such a strangeAphrodisiac,Nothing is so comforting,Than another broken heart,Forcing ourselves to fit,Like discarded puzzle pieces.

Poisoned, Seek no Antidote

My mind is poisoned through and through, To leave me yet yearning for you. By these fingertips dipped in blood, Records our masochistic love, Haunting my every waking dream, Unfurling in a decade’s scream, Choked down by a memory’s kiss, Fey thoughts I have: a little misery is worth this, to feel less marks it…

Dark Mirror

I feel awake now,After this long winter sleep,Feeling lost somehow.The man in the dark mirror,I no longer recognize.

What Books Need

Some books need coffee,A quiet lounge at midday,Gentle distractions.My mind wanders to and fro,Sweetly consuming slow words. Others need darkness,A calamitous ruin,Rain and thunder on.May the world dissolve away,So long as I can read on. My favorites need you,Bright-eyed passionate reader,To cut out my heart,And exchange our bleeding souls,To reveal the truth in us.

jealous

I can’t stand her eyes,When they alight with passion,Thinking about you.It’s an ugly thing, you see,The green envy within me.

Drujnk

Where’s my other shoe?Head is heavy, wanna sleep,It’s so hot in here.I like how the porcelainfeels cools on my face.I’m fine. No, you’re drunk. Shut up.

Chaos and Tragedy

She loves chaos and tragedy: Preening suitors bearing presents, trying to fill her void. Dark candles and cigarette smoke, a taste of blood, the high. Bacchanalian revelry, Sex and violence, a sigh. Sepia phantoms moving in sad mimicry of life.

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I certainly can’t make any promises that I’ll be here forever,
but at least you’ll know when I’m around.