[x]

Plexiglass Sunrisesfalling like dead leaves
in august's cool wind, i watch,
relieved, as clouds sweep
early-morning sunlight through
deserted, lonely windows.

One AM Haikusand so he whispers
in the darkness of the night
never forget us.

...

lazy summer day
only wishing and dreaming
with eyes wide open.

...

there is much to say
to forget and waste away
your face stays the same.

...

it's on the edges
of lucidity and sleep
that I think of you.

no oxygen.we were barely honest
and honestly naked,

the only sound,
my ceiling fan
cutting at night

his lips punctuating
all my limbs into existence
like a typewriter

struggling to remember my body
my name and face escaped me
he opened me like a book
or a flower or atom bomb

lost, tumbling into darkness
the only sound,

our harsh breathing,
&
the walls
of my lover
collasping in on me

my brain clicking on
once more,
the gears beginning
to turn

remembering my
elbows,
my toes

& my first complete thought:

"i cannot breathe
if this is not breathing,

i never want to breathe again."

bikinisdark enough to watch
light rip a canvas sky
from the sidewalk
where it is nice to be
the smallest thing.

dark enough to write
obituaries on post-its
for school mascots and
models that can't tell
image from imagery.

dark enough, still, to wish
laughter was in time-lapse
so grey summer days
would look better in
bikinis.

and dark enough to go swim
anyway, in your pool
for the first time
since you moved away

and it's dark.
it was never

as kids kicking
water into fruit
on your birthday.

little siblings
crying on the porch
and big neighbors
throwing you
on their shoulders,
casting silhouettes
of loch-ness monsters
unt

lethargyI'm holding on to lethargy,
and we are
ashes in each other's arms.
and can you see your chars
reflected in my eyes?
dusty orbs of crumbling lies.
I cannot hear your heartbeat
because mine is still as stone;
I wish you heard me moan like
the cries of limpid ghosts, but
they mourn the dead
and I deceased for you
too long ago.

VeneerJaw clenching in disdain,
how weary I feel-
                          But you!
         I will show you.
                             I will stop
that infernal laughter.

My loathsome inner child
she mocks me.
Begging me:
Take those last few steps

Such a delightful
sinful pleasure, rupture
that succulent peach.

CadenzaSuppose each one of us older than the stars,
suppose that we are other than the ragged beggars we seem,
suppose that our engulfing slumber, our inner darkness,
is constantly erupting with the vanity of dreams.

Consider those uncounted aeons swallowed in the oceans
of that virtuality, where we, the ever drowning mariners,
must cling to the absurd shapes we call reality.

Will we, unknowing captives, ever be free?
Has liberty become our cage of captivity?
Oh yes, we writhe, our nakedness become despair.
as our frenzied touching reveals that nothing's there.

Catch the Watercoloursart was in the weather
painting pebbles with rainwater,

silhouetting shades of puddles
and delicate glares off windows

the wind became tangible,
if only one knew

how to catch the watercolors

religion and other tragedies.it's me, it's me.
i think you have sucked the love right out of me
(but you'll never have my heart).
i'm snorkeling right now,
in the fiery pit of your stomach, watching
cichlids lurch and hawks prey.
there's a distinct relationship between
clocks that tick and dogs that howl, but
we'll probably never find it. in a world where
sun creates sky, we are blind. blind to
ridicule, hate, and mischief. there is no
mountain yet unclimbed. no history unmarked.

but what jesus didn't know is that not everyone
can be saved. there are people that don't want to be.
they just want to live, not to be enslaved by fear.
the salmon don't think.

daughter, sleep.there is a gun shot, a bomb threat, a light going off inside of my head,
bright yellows, green, muddy browns, indigo, blacks, blood and teeth and red.

and smile in the mirror, and break in the bend
the time we waste and the money we spend,
and i really just wish for this all to end
with a smile that is real, and a spine-breaking bend.

they tear me apart, rape out my insides
can't tell us apart, because i'm the one who hides.
and my body is creaking, my joints confide
with your jolting, unrhythmic, secular strides.

i've made my bones, and i've made my bed
sleeping with the devil, and the sins that i've said,
that goddamn light swit

hearts, cracks and lightbulbsi.
you,
believer in wishbones
stretching through cheeks
tell me,
that shattered pottery, falling stars and cracked windows
are not disalusioning.
you tell me that
there have to cracks
for the light to shine through.

am i beautiful?
am i bright?
I have grooves in my face
and lines in my arms
and i am trying to beam for
you.

ii.
everytime
he smiles at me
i am welcoming another parade of
holes in through the door
of my heart.

will love run in rivulets like
water, or slog through muscle
like london traffic. because
i have enough cracks now.
[too many for him
to ever love me.]

iii.
he has freshwater eyes
and the ab

don't be romeo, be real1.
he is a gentle-man,
always picking up things i
drop; a plate, a childs toy,
a heart.
he does not mind i am clumsy
and he always smiles while he
helps.

2.
he is a little self-demeaning
a little mocking and a
lot charming.

3.
he is quiet and kind
and nothing i thought
i'd want, but do.

4.
he sounds plain
with brown hair and
brown eyes but its
those eyes and that smile
that catch my breath.

5.
he is smart and influenced
by inspirational figures.

6.
have i mentioned his smile?
it's a flash of light
in an otherwise dark world.

7.
he only sees what i want him to
he only knows me the way i want
him to but some

forward on.and like the tide, i pull in and out of myself.

everything is in transit,
with you speeding off to war,
  with her changing into a white collar that's stained blue,
    with me not giving two shits anymore.

i'm burying all this consequence,
  dirt covering the past,
    worms eating away the memories,
      stones cracking over attempts of peace.

i have no more defense, no more words to prove
        what you chose to never believe.

    when things are too good to be true, they usu

August RainsI would like to believe in
August rains: in days where things
matter and thunder
like wheels on a train & the sky is white-eyed,
staring up past her own skin, long fingers braced
around a curve, long toes straight
pushing dimples in the dirt.
Give me a fishing line and I will move the earth.
The seas are close to overflowing -
laughing gods pour gold into a warm bath.
There is no triumph in their hearts
yet the trains move onwards,
rumbling.
Fish ou

this is why you broke us upi'm not really worried about you reading this. i know there's a possibility that you will, but i know you. you haven't got the patience to sit through this, it's way too long. and you certainly don't have the strength to sit here and let all these words rip apart your heart. so, let's begin.

it's because i wasn't a good kisser, right? i was a horrible kisser. couldn't quite get the proper technique down. it's because i wasn't very seductive, i know. i couldn't be "hot", or "sexy", or anything like that. i was just me. i was a bit too weird in the end, wasn't i? too strange, too dramatic and complicated and demanding. too much sugar-coating a

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Divided Equinoxes

by =GraphiteColours, Sep 8, 2011, 5:53:12 AM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

like two lovers swaying in eternal ellipses,
or warriors circling in ever-evasive orbits:
at times in perihelion, at times aphelion;
yet never closer or further; locked
in a celestial stalemate of divided equinoxes,
more a dance than a war -

each had their own time and the summer was his,
temper turning at the solstice, quick to flare
in sudden blazes or midnight storms as unpredictable
as June tempests, and floods that erased all memories
from the preceding months, while each hour grew
steadily colder, emptier -

until one season's radiance was eclipsed
by the other's lengthening shadow;
and in the dimming light of autumn he would
polish his gilt-bronze armour and reap the year's harvest
before the siege ahead, for battles were won or lost
on her glacial domain -

with ice-tipped arrows and blades of stalactite
against which the invading sun, resplendent
even in deep winter, advanced upon the ice queen,
seeking beneath the marble-veined surface
of proud alabaster to find a heart in hibernation,
though still breathing -

the faintly fragrant promises of spring: of idle days
filled with droplets of sun-warmed nectar
to thaw her frozen tears, and of still-frosty nights
when their fingers could be clasped tightly together:
tessellating geometry, summer and winter intertwining
in rings of silver and gold -