• again

    pull the drops of every tear and sweat, and wrap the age around me; what disrupt the flow of time, unspool, loosen into the wind; make me remember, make me remember; erase the forked path; take me to the point of choice; what was must be again, 

  • kneeling

    i know it speaks a language of its own; the waters spill where palms face upwards in prayer; poisoned; i have thought only honeyed milk drips down those skies; but there is thicker, richer red where my ankles have sunk deep kneeling for so long,

  • paper cut

    that whitest white, cuts blood; the purity of a paper cut flick into the whites of my eyes; for a second i cried for you, i would worship; but then i remember, you walk on two legs too; you say the mirror is where you realise that the knife is cursed; but i have plunged…

  • hangman

    don’t look to me like that; accusation, the fall—my fault; don’t you dare tell me, that i had swiped the jewels unprompted, don’t you tell me that grace had slipped off in my presence; you stand on your books, as i do mine and you—are holding the hangman’s rope in your own hands

  • on a whim

    why, you say? I have looked at your hearts, and on a whim, i will be on my hands and knees, on a whim, i will have wrists thinner than twigs, on a whim there will be mud caked on my heels, on a whim, blood, blood—

  • emptied

    make me, make me; the grounds are awake in spoonfuls of sleep; my toes tap soundless; i am singing between here and there, make me, make me; i have emptied out, make me, make me; there is nothing here and i am in love, make me, make me

  • indexes

    let me pull it all down, one slow blink at a time; bring it down my throat, i know it is for my eating; so don’t tell me to bow, don’t tell me i shouldn’t; don’t tell me there are lines, rules, indexes, i am not sure where they came from; i eat—

  • edge

    hmm? what’s that? you heard a whisper last night? the lake at the edge of my hair says, you have been walking the grounds barefoot just before the petals unfurl; that you had demanded banishment; and only the one voice remain—i like that,

  • sticky

    what’s that sickening sweetness, these fumes that demand me to flop over; melt into a puddle of sticky tar; i would like nothing else than to be inked over; there is not enough night to cover me; give me more; let me slurp that plop of darkness,

  • chink

    i am sure there is a crack somehere; a chink in the armor; made just for you, my achilles’ heel? oh, it’s right there, clip it. i am sorry? i left the back door open? come in; wrap that velvet strip around my eyes; let me tip over into the night, upwards is my downwards,