Category: writing

I don’t know if a god wrought of another can be killed with brass knuckles like those I wear in my dreams. – They are good only for bruising and battering things. They don’t draw blood, at least not past the surface. – Just pooling it underneath, like testaments to the future- darker than you…

What notes must I play for you to know my name, like Mozart’s from the lilt in the right hand melody, never quite ceasing its bright trot from up to down, with the Alberti bass following along like a lost balloon- that inversion of placement echoing forever into history with laughing smiles (Amadeus’ namesake character…

a sunflower speckled in so many colours filtered light swaying on the twinkling glass of your voice laughing like raindrops as we share a joke and one too many ‘oh’s You’ve run your finger- tips over the frayed edges and smoothed the notes of this tapestry- One written in half-hearted grays and blues of the…

And there we are again, in that field filled with sunflowers. Pulling my mother’s hand to hidden places, so far removed from the storms of my father’s domain. Though I love him so, He was a terrible captain. Terrible and great and angry- Pulling the riggings all by himself, knots layered over the calluses bickering…

Running with 2 parts too few today, I’ve left my head and heart sleeping back in Atlanta. My eyes too wide today, too filled with scenes I don’t want to see. A simple mouthpiece for the past tide, so I let my hands play across the keys. That upheaval, a twisted serpent of consumption and…

Amber eyes in the dying light of this sunset confession pools of poisoned honey, your words are trickster’s pleas – Loki’s own creed. A vigil to the lies we told ourselves while we danced around the truth we so violently – so valiantly – fought against. A spectre of ribbons tying us together at the…

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…