Face to face:
staring into each other;
seeing your reflection
in the dark lake of her iris.
Hand on hand,
not like those bible verses preach-
no, praying to the abyss,
hoping it won’t swallow you whole;
understanding at first the irony
and then the futility
of your act.
The abyss has black, wet lips,
kissing you to compensate
for chewing pieces of your soul
and spitting them out
because they were bittersweet.
Now they are soaked, slippery,
no longer sticking either in or to the puzzle,
which is why you don’t make sense
except in the silver,
face to face,
where your soul is pure, whole,
and wholly unleashed.
Smell of new and
Life as art for art’s sake.
Neon light flickers as you blink
infected by dizziness.
No longer tone-deaf to the harmonies
of your own soul,
you don’t shrink for someone else to grow.
An invisible corpse in the plastic bag
winks at you from the corner-
madness, it grows
Lifeless but intense:
you don’t pray for another,
you prey for yourself.
Two bodies wrapped in an embrace
in a tomb of glitter and frost-
the blood lingers while they kiss,
then it pours gently down the legs
of the cradle surrounded by mist.
The lake of tears reflects the moon of sorrow-
trembling, fluid, unpredictable;
their red eyes locked, unblinking,
while eternity replaces the morrow.
A silhouette merging with the unknown-
all that is left is your breath in the cold air
as you exhale in slow motion.
I speak in shadows,
you respond with specters of light,
haunting every word-
making sense of it all;
I choose to live in the now,
but if you whisper in my ear
I will take decades to figure out
why you chose to disappear
when I ran down the hallway-
gargoyles staring from above-
for a second I thought I could hear
another set of footsteps
under a different weight
even after I accepted your longing
for the netherworld.
The statues were grotesque,
threatening, demon-like in thunder and lightning,
and still, I hoped that hallway would never end
just so I could hear the sounds again and again
and convince myself they weren’t merely
echoes of my footsteps into the unknown.
I taste the blood of dehydrated lips,
admire the inadequately plucked eyebrows
above vapid black circles surrounded by
red on translucent white.
Dark hair, itchy like rope
against my neck,
frozen hands trembling,
features particularly thin:
I forgot how to live,
yet I laugh at my own sin.
body and soul now shine
with a different light
and cast a different shadow:
the light of god,
the shadow of Lucifer.
Distracted by my flame,
I spilled some water in
that little cavity
between you and me.
Your presence turned it into ice,
I stepped towards you
and broke my knee.
The clouds have invaded you
and you can’t let them go
your heart needs to be covered
She’s too fragile on her own
are alter egos your cup of tea
you drink them fast,
she kills them slowly,
one by one,
until your heart is left unclouded
and that’s when it gets darker
until you start breathing in the ashes of carbonised hope
and let them infect the only thing that was ever clean
in your mind and in your hands: Innocence.
I miss the scent
of your whispering skin
when you tell me
how I can be both
in my head.
That memory of snowdrops, fountain pens,
and spring dew
made my world shiver this morning
The universal shift of focus
from being to seeming
permeates our age of confusion.