Damocles, my Crossroad King, lay your blade across my shoulders again. This is the price we paid: Inflamed eyes and Stitched Smoulderings of our greatest fears clasped so closely to our hearts that we shed our clipped wings and waxen scars into keepsake jars- scraping suffering into fingernail beds so we can fashion badges of…
Month: November 2019
Syzygy
The gravitas of her silverspun eyes lulls me into the breath of water and I fall into her depths sinking past the point of small deaths and spleen-squeezed relief. She pulls my pen, as she pulls the sea. An endless flow, further underneath. Her gaze, as ice, pierces through my fire and again, we end…
Flume
Windowsill confessions to dust and dead flies. —– I played romance across your face as your eyes followed mine. Sordid songs of love, spoken into existence for just one night Moon’s light and glassen confetti herald our midnight vigil to false connections and pretension.