I fit.

I bloom like a weed,

chopped and sprayed and mowed;

I push my head through concrete

and bloom, gracefully.


It has to be you

It has to be you. Ever since you came back, I can’t be if it’s not you. There was no touch, no held breath you have missed. Not once was my skin burning without your name on my tongue.

He wonders why our eyes never meet, the fool. But it’s never him, no. It has to be you.


Because I can’t hold on to the illusion. When I almost believe, when I can almost touch your face, you vanish and leave me like a held breath. And never do I feel colder, lonelier; never do I long for darkness more than when I wish I could stop fooling myself..

I grow and I laugh at myself, and then shrink back into this girl, too small for my shoes. You grab my hands and spin me around and I let my head fall back, and laugh like a maniac, drunk with your madness. I keep waiting for the day you’ll let go, when I spin so fast, and I fall and hit my skull against a stone and split it apart. Perhaps you’ll leave it then, my twisted mind. Perhaps you’ll set me free.


Hands pressed against my lips, firmer, the breathless sound of your name echoes, echoes. One eye laughs, one weeps.

I crush the holy word with my teeth and it’s sour; both eyes weep.


I’d forgotten the taste I never knew. I’d forgotten it because I dug its hole with broken fingers. But the cracked earth sucked its sweetness and spat it out.


Perhaps another tomorrow, then, huh?

I come back with the tide, mud in my belly and bulging eyes.

You walk past and the blood shoots out of the rotting heart,

black blood; dragging my face through the drying sand

i catch up, and you gather my limbs and stick them back,

carry me gently to edge of the mud; pour me out.


This resurrection has turned obscene

Perhaps tomorrow the wave will forget

an eye, or perhaps my entire head.

Satanic Jesus, let me die!


His desert

He spits; hatred and darkness and blood.

turning and leaping in a hellish dance

of sneers and renewed curses,

the thunderous desert forgets to grow out

of the night.


Black lips and green cheeks, buried heads.

She forgets

how touching softness felt

between cacti and winds

her eyes bleed

skin peels and lips fall..

she lies still for a while

but here he comes

turning and twisting, spitting again

she covers her head with a hand

but the desert forgets its moons

and night grows






Goosebumps and shivers and dry lips, my wind – Goodbye.


Oh dear old darkness!



but it’s gone

Stupid eyes can’t hold dying shadows anymore.


Sink your teeth in hot flesh heavy until his fire dies

and the night unwraps it deadly grasp of your dying eyes.