your words are as

fleeting as ash

falling on fingertips

fulfilling stereotypes

left and right

tears in disguise

leaving trails of lies

masks are more

common than faces

your eyes kindle desire

letters freshly brewed

…neurological brooding

destroying waste

untie the last lace

grasp onto life

while ear drums are pounding

you’re locked in this city

your touch is absent

the message was not sent

waiting for the last breath


Deciding on the Offbeat

Nothing to say.

In bed I lie.

Oh, broken day

I hope I’m not gay.

Predilection affection

I want to eat your filigree

Department of Self-Correction

I’m my own worst enemy.