Wednesday, May 3, 2017

poems of my sins, part 3

Your lips;
Pressing insistently into mine
Sucking on my mouth, on my breath,
On my entire soul,
So that when you left
you tore a part of me with you.

poems of my sins, part 2

Things are whispered in the dead of the night
That can't be said in the day.
I love you
I fucking love you.
But only just tonight.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

poems of my sins, part 1

I am shattered.
I am a hollow shell, flesh picked clean
By gulls.
The sound of waves still echo in me,
But I am far from the ocean.
I am far from anything
I had ever known.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

"i walked with you once upon a dream"

but fairy tales are
for little girls and you are too old, your soul
too battered for lies like that anymore.
fairy tales are for innocent, virginal girls in 
pink dresses 
diamond crowns
and your eyes are too full of shadows, bones too
full of secrets to pretend
to be pure.
your mouth has tasted too much cum
for the kiss of a prince, and
you will never be able to
conceal the stubble burns etched into your skin
from past lovers.
you cannot un-taste the apple
you have stolen, 
you cannot un-see 
the hell you have glimpsed. 

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

on relationships

she said i can’t love you anymore
because you drain me.
you’re like a mutated, human-sized
leech feeding on every bit and morsel of me
and you scream whenever i cried salt tears.
i can never understand how
two people who mutually hurt each other
could stay together willingly
but now i see that people will always
hold onto things that they are
familiar with, even though it’s killing them.
and i’m sure those half-burned wounds
on your body would never heal
if you keep latching onto me
because i will never stop crying.
so it would be better if we
stop loving each other

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Late Night Thoughts

You think the sadness leaves. It doesn’t. 

When I first met you, I said you were my Prozac with yet unknown side effects. Well I know what those side effects are now. First, that its efficacy is short-lived, and yet my body has grown so accustomed to it I cannot live without it anymore. Second, like most drugs, there is a period of complete and utter bliss, but then comes a crash that is so violent, it is something singularly spectacular to behold. 

These black, viscous, septic thoughts well up in my blood. These cancerous, virulent feelings course through my lymph. I’m trapped in a Sartre-ian limbo. Death says, you are far too contaminated, far too defiled for my kingdom. 

This sadness is inherent in me, in my mother’s blood, and her mother’s. This sadness caresses me, drowns me, buries me. I am the darkness that overwhelms, I am the darkness molten.

Monday, March 23, 2015

this familiar void again.
an abysmal, gaping hole of longing and solitude.

your absence is deafening.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

a tale of love and cancerous growth

perhaps i never really learned to love.
i love you -
tumultuously, savagely;
i never learned to love otherwise.

my love is a benign tumor in times of peace
it occupies you, it is a part of you. 
but it has the potential to metastasize and proliferate
into an ugly mass of hatred and vitriol
so violent, so malevolent,
it would consume you whole.

i love you
but perhaps not the way you learned to be loved. 

Monday, October 27, 2014




Thursday, September 18, 2014

être, ou ne pas être

i don't feel human.
i don't feel human.
i don't feel human.
this body does not feel whole
this emptiness does not subside,
but aches and aches from my stomach;
shoots into the tips of my fingers,
the soles of my feet,
the thin of my scalp.

my lips are still swollen from the ashes of your kiss.