My Blog
“time cannot exist”
cracks run along my palm beating my wrist like a left hand drum where time cannot exist or fold itself into one place in my hand words are the paths I once walked kicking the winter apples as they murmured in love how alone am I fastened to the ground in a sleep...
“the beautiful falling apart”
a book on the night stand my breath and my timbre it melts over our mouths the words I placed inside of you the time when we crawled out into the snow when we were alive our eyes closing around a crackle of ice treading in a garden of steps I have no fear to be...
“she had long pale hands”
growing down into the dirt disappearing a slip of dark night over a garden wall is this my existence? where a generous creature was birthed as loneliness but I believe in nothing even the bombs that fell sweeping over my bed like a vast grey ocean of wet wet voices...
“a beautiful death”
I could breathe to the sun in the shape of a heart I would still be shattered rolling in the ecstasy of my nothingness forgive me while I wander across this field looking for the end of suffering in a hollow pocket of the sickness that I call home the world is still...