Love is a mosca biting the aorta.

I clutch my chest to qualm the swarm of egregious sting, translating into certain sentences.

There is nothing to say when you bite the fruit, when the soul is in ravenous hunger...Why not wait until I rot?

My soul will always be old...

Days of everything from spectrums and orbits. Nights without use of the eyes... My extinguished love affair ...

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How the knobs within certain doors fasten their hinges to my ceiling, during the hours of my own apocalypse; bursting into clouds.

Is this not standard for poetry?

Wits of a madwoman, how she writes the scores this evening.

That tattered bell in multitude and proportions, shimmering sequins from out, and beneath her dress.

Constellations within the drawers of the aorta full of notes th...

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Controversy is the tongue of snakes...

If tonight they make my hair raise the dead. I should go walking with my fragments made whole, and explain myself without trial from hypocrites harboring my old ghosts.

Unjustified torments in disregard to whom I truly became after being shoveled. He loves me for this.

I can see them sideways.

Within me, I rise again.

And again and again.

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Stay away from the light that is lime in gesture shining rays down.

Something told me that somewhere my soul is locked between word and issue; spirit and one noun.

I must say the thought lay tattered in sentences unraveling my evening into a dress torn...

But I will go anyways.

Who gives a shit.

I will go where tonight’s curtain of red will draw the stake from my throat, a...

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I did not want to distinguish the aorta expelled in ink, as black and fluid as this; amongst other thoughts.

How your hello made my soul into combustible lights.

The ones that fall from the sky as real and imagined as bullet holes...Whispers like nicotine…

I ask my penitentiary of tired stars.

Do I evaporate slowly tonight?

Maybe, it is not this evening to say farewell to ...

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Stellar wounds flickering…

Can I ask a question of the lights I cannot seem to touch?

Why is it so deeply you fascinate gazes in horrendous distances?

Come closer to feel the street.

I say your anguish is remarkable.

A fall to the very whim.

Root; antique war weaponry.

Seeds; the overbearing gust.

Those dreams beneath the stones.

Human dexterity; textures of ea...

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How stern and soft the furrow beneath the ground, is the heart that ashes.

To grow from the shallows of a soul seated in the depths in winter.

Your sunny eyes hold mysterious graves full of flowers; some withered.

Again if epiphany comes, it is enamored.

I say this in admiration.

Of the knotted curl in your chest, the splinter and thorn, the waves in synchronicity.

How ...

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I woke up one evening and the light made the darkness scurry into my eyes.
Always the transcendence lapsed  into the grit of the streets within my bosom.
I’ll never enter unscathed or without a storm; my body sodden with ash...

They stare at me.

The sudden jolt of something painful makes my limbs tremble.
Within my catacomb of awkwardness was the belligerence of peace trying to escape an ...

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Nevertheless, I must say that even through things revolving I will save myself...For you…

My hunger for your love and thorn.

That nevertheless through life chiseling our bones brittle; the crimson of the petals you bring me, are my blood…

We are never without flowers.

Even if tonight, I seem restless through my agony before you.

Remember that my banners mark where I reside...

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To the marrow of a hinge in the door looming within the spaces in my spine.

 I partake unwillingly into the silence of the thereafter; I hear them walking after these hours...

I do so.

Linger in the niche halfway of dawn predesessing names, and umbilical alliances from the severed.

The key is in the shadow and the sun.

The howl before humanity: I am somehow unasleep, sleeping beneat...

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Why are you a parasol carnage of hearts?...Fire to hearth; wavering.

Why do you flicker so loudly?

Evey pronunciation proclaims vowels and blood, and elusive feats of things unanchored.

Can I tell you that within my sewer I hear ocean sounds?

Loud whispers. Evening portals…Long distances made short.

I take for granted what I feel from neighborly beasts.

Eating goldfish benea...

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Residual tar has iron boots imprinted by the bar where I never go while awake.

I have never shut my eyes to the glory of those that rub sea salt between their calloused fingers.

With sideways glances we speak of a tourmaline rimmed well of dreams, that hold the most perfect seashells.

At the pit where the sun never dives into our humanly sequences in metaphors, suddenly, the fog became ou...

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Petunia, aren’t you afraid of the wolves?...

Say the seed is one to trample into narratives from love devoured.

Who spoke to flowers other than the lady who wrote of odd things?...

I had written of flowers since I was first gazing from the womb.

Needless to say the darkness loved the light.

 I am the lit bulb in the room everyone forgets and remembers...Perhaps, no longer.

Someth...

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Dismantle again at the shore.

All the ruins and misogyny in your bones.

Tantrums come in waves in incomprehensible detailed notions; fragmenting for the selfless beauty.

Your agony embraces these hours.

The antiquity of soul lost in clocks drowns the withered…

Your body splashing over cold stones.

Fluorescent fish within depth dancing. Frantic to live...

Take the div...

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I’m tired of unloving the forlorn root of the combustible star. Infancy of immediate wisdom.

Tell me how the air was sweet under the dew of agony feeling the light.

The heart; a rose trembling. The sky loves you with tears in innumerable cloud, condensing into streets.

I am tattered and torn; evaporating into red sleeves upon arms.

My dress sways like midnight on nights unhemmed.

Th...

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Residents in my head of hawthorn and wool. Fleshly cloudy constellation. You are here as a stellar palette of scars. Does the eternal womb and catacomb divide doorways, when my body is gravel...The fire within my tongue; swool?

Curtains of things blatantly unbeheld.

My vision holds your body tonight.

The stone cracked open.

Overtones of nonexistence.

Intangible silk draped betw...

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Cold flutter of responses scathing steel.

This is the free verse digesting knobs; intimacy of clouds consuming frequency within hands...

And fallacy of lovers raining a charade of passions out to a fire chiseling scorns…

Swollen hearted.

I made bread with my soul worn inside and out…

I  hurt like you; still we feed.

I wore my Love well... I fed my Lover well, the transg...

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When you go you take with you the music.

I am left with that solitary moment of injustice inquiring oneself.

Of a rhythm occupying palpitations that waver blood into a certain sea of red entering the stratosphere…

There I sink and live in my liveliest.

There, I sleep within a maddening cocoon. Dreams yearn the chisel of your rough hands…Fluorescent fish and waves harbor a dan...

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It rained inside the totality of losses, and populated solitary ventures into the rhyme and rhythmic pulses of pleasantly sad dense clouds moving slowly through veins. No one hears this music when a key within my bosom pulls my head down low…

I alone listen.

I alone remember.

Protective bird of rubble. Gatekeeper of my thorns. My sanguine woes. Wine drip from eyes shut tight. Cleansed ori...

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First, from nothing scarce.

From the significance in first tormenting light after leaving the dark.

I wanted to mention how love saved certain severances...The blood and clay…soul molded and punctured body of constellations…

How we break free.

How my star falls tonight.

Into the root. Into the wind to feel the soil again. Like his hands wavering the beginnings of sun and s...

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Vessels in time emulate arms.

If I were mistaken that the grandiose metamorphosis was the metaphysical butterfly into the dawning of bullets; puncturing the veil…It is because my old soul emerged early into epiphany.

Soon sailboats will anchor on my wings...Born foot first. Halo around my neck...Mama cried...Bring her beneath the lights they said. I was not breathing...Then, I frantically wa...

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Dark birds hover around the wounds of the mystic. They are thirsty.

I am forrayed emitting light. Swashbuckling my shadow. Descending. Invisible ethereal mist...

The fog attributed to the charm of strangers. Colors harbor the noisy cloud of confessionals.

I feel the foam of ruins. Mirrors with cracked edges. Silhouettes...

Doors sunken within eyes. Sunny shoveled graves. Hollowed out e...

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I want to confess that the last minute is the bell tapered within his hands.

That single gesture of ominous struggle to wring out hazards and corridors. Rusted knobs like knuckles.

Eyelash fringe of frosted root. Cold clemency. Integrous beasts. We are jailed flutter. Inside. Within…

We free one another together.

I search for the maze of divine intervention and wings.

He i...

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They frame me in the milestones. Something like an unkempt garden. I am half naked in blizzards of truth. Temperamental hands unclothe me...

Uprooted.

Because you love me whispers from adversaries blow at our threads. The nature of their beasts forget the importance of their Mothers...Of women. Umbilical iridescence floats away. Kites like thoughts lose strings...

I promise...

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This pain in the darkness…

It came to sudden eve to blaspheme the torment of branch through the quintessential. 

It took through the walls the solidity of ghost stories mending soul with ethereal strings and fire.

The amplitude of dust from centuries ferments in my body as life.

And, the blood seeps from the willow trees within pen as ink.

Playing into fruition heart chords drizzled...

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You enter me like birds with a sonar song to strong to blur.

Your melancholy cage full of soul suffices flew free with fragmented flair to detect.

This flock of ink does not fizzle the fire that singes the feather that the masses may mock.

You are the gusto of tragedy; the one that falls with me into the sea salt stench of waves.

On fire, what anchors me in ruins within the spume of sw...

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