Shoebox

I don't want fields of roses and your hand in mine
I'll die alone in a shoebox and everything will be fine

No legacy
No leftovers to reheat while
contemplating the razor

This princess, awake with
bruises on her thighs and black eyes,
too ashamed to face yours
too many promises

A ring of salt around my heart won't turn you to gold

Off and On

Grey smudges
on the screen
flashing circles --
blue and green

I trace the pattern of your languid face
with my fingers
Introverted indifference
covering your eyes, a gentle death

Grey smudges
are not something to depend on --
Like threats and promises

Nothing to mention
Nothing at all

I love you

Remnants

If you died tomorrow
I would send flowers
which probably wouldn't arrive

I'd sweep away
the remnants
and run out of time

Hands around my neck
lowered green eyes

back and forth

i'm building
a pillow fortress
a bridge across
the unforgiving
abyss



a dark and tearful
tunnel



i follow the water
to the pale, white light at the end



and we smile,
no screens separating
the stars in our eyes



two weirdos
clinging desperately
to split hairs

fools on the stairs

bloody memories
clouding my vision
i stumble towards you

variations on a theme

variations on a theme
are all i seem to do

thumping like mad
banging on flesh
to try and get a tune

but nothing sounds like you
what am i to do?