Author: Torrey

So I have forgotten the gods, and decided to be my own. Falling into light thoughts of time spent in desert’s heat and wind and sand-the frictions between our hands clasping into the air seeking to feel the warmth of felled trees and moss spongy with the fears we have soaked into them like drops…

Copper oxidation smiles green around our ringed fingers filled with the folly of better times as chip tunes plot our path to destruction and self-imposed exile to other pastures- greener, some might say. I croak hollow at the gestures of love we dance with, between shouting matches of whispered words and spoken unutterables that neither…

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…

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…

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.

“But I’ve no spade to follow men like them” How deep have we pushed into the warm mess below? You’ve all gone to lengths ‘I’ll never know’ My callouses aren’t worthy of that name. You forged this for me, a tool. Your desperate intent, unashamed- Finally Coalesced So when the time comes calling, I’ll dig…

I hear the Winter, curses rolling from her tongue. Her pilgrimage having just begun. The trees are leaving me again, Their colors running so vibrant as they fade. I am taken by them -much like you Their red death-blossoming leaves me gasping for the scent that isn’t there -much like yours But the trees will…

Undeath is violent, or so they say. A slight turn, rising from your earthen bed as the drained sun finally sets its daily toil complete. A measured gait, slow and dawdling, nowhere specific to be. The memories fading, leave you gasping but not quite for breath. You return home- to find it replaced. The living…

“No harm”, you say. — “No hope”, I’ll reply. ————- Brighten your eyes as you look up at me. Parking lot confessions. Your voice is so much softer than you make it in daylight hours I yearn for that softness. Pillow my ears, warm my hands on your back. Trace fingertips down again- the dip…

Crossroad King, with inflamed eyes- Let me grab your throat- string blood life -and stitch it to my own Pick your nail beds, scrape your suffering into keepsake jars. Line your halls with them, present your trophies of ‘my pain is far greater’ Burn it down, defeat the one who smolders, a reminder of your…