Speak a whisper to me

Soft on aural folds

My dreams are an orchestra

A rise and fall of melody

Ceasing into silence

Until I hear you, verbatim

Precious perfection



Mi boca es un puerte que quema con la passion del muerte y luz.

(My mouth is a door that burns with the passion of death and light)

Still Writing, Not Editing

A stroke of the pen

Over virgin paper

It sighs and wriths

Lifts blank hips to receive pigment and life

I search between the delicate leaves

Find the core of a beautiful sheath

Begging me over and over to defile

With scrawling words

Until the paper is exhausted




It’d be a shame to stir it now

Excise words

And cruelly form and shape

So instead I sit back

Admire the curves and lines


There is always time later for editing


There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do

Offer flesh and bone

For a freedom

Integral to my skin

Why should I be denied?

But I’m used to unbridled desecration of my soul

I know you don’t care

And that leaves me a solitary shadow

A simple darkness

Alone until the great night falls, permanent and starless


A silent breath

In a silent room

The eaves above are filling

Swirling with nihilistic questioning

Sharp wings of invisible night angels

Bearing the doctrine of nothingness

Everything turning into escaping sand

Flowing between mortal fingers

And even the love, piercing my soul painfully with yearning

Blows away in the wind of time


Because I’ve forgotten

The other half of the loop


New Day

Biting down on my razor blade teeth

Until I bleed

This is the only sunrise


You tried to appeal to the human in me

Wipe away my bloody smile

But I laughed inside

Knowing you killed it

In a line of unrelenting forced submisson

That I took

And took


So now this is fucking survival

This is the sharp edge

Dissecting my pain

To let in fleeting relief

And I will not bow to you