Search for You

I will search for you,
my fingers clawing gently
on the underside of my ribs
as I attempt to open my body,
slice clean along the side of my lungs,
bite down till I bruise
the pink of my lips a deep purple,
staining my heart outward
with each beat and breath of my body,
measuring each second of my existence
as something alive.
I need you with me, on me,
carved deep along the marrow
in my bones, the beat
of a dull heart cupped
within my hands, blood spattered
up the length of my arms,
your name forever engraved across my body.
But this is fine,
even when nobody can see you,
as I become unravelled
at the seams, fingers digging,
nails clawing to open
the soft container of your body,
as if by this form of love
I could meld you to me.
As if I could ever find the will
to let you go.

unfortunately

07/19/12

unfortunately,
this is not how i would have it.
i want your hands
on my body, teeth snapping,
ribs creaking as you pry
me open in a form
of benediction
against my sins.
i want no whispers of love,
only your arms open
to catch me, to punish me,
to mold me into someone different
from who i really am.
remake me.
for i cannot handle myself
this way any longer.

The Bloody Lover of Time

Tick Tock.
There's a deep beating of a
bloody clock
nailed to the wall.
You're a nest breaker
with the cracking of the eggs
underneath the thin layer of static
we're walking on.
There's a stretching sensation
of time spreading thin
as the cells snap, breaking
and drowning within the bruises.
I delight in the sadistic side of your love
as I watch it bouncing down
the steps and into the glass,
smashing and cracking
the delicate frame
you've placed yourself in.
Tick Tock.
Tick Tock.
It's not as if you can rip
the hands apart,
smashing the fingers as they stretch towards the hours.
We can break the eggs
and drink the yokes,
letting them run yellow down
the fronts of our clothes,
soaking and dying,
molting and shredding
the remains of this
broken relationship
while mixing a glass of
wine.

May 23, 2012

I already knew how
this would end,
the rasp of your voice
as we talk in quiet whispers,
spinning memories and confessions
of love, my hands gripped
tightly in yours,
tears forming as I whisper
I love you again and again
until the echo of your breath
fades away softly into the night air
as I let go of you
for the final time.

Open

My body is open,
curved wide along the pieces
of my spine,
heart failing as the blood
pulses weakly through my veins
until I'm left with nothing
but the faint beat of my heart
a dull echo in my skull.
I'll ask you to fill me,
hands fluttering along the sides of my ribs,
fingers tracing the ache of my lungs,
the strips of my skin blood ribbons
trailing down my clothes
as I wait to receive your love
and end the emptiness
inside me.

bleeding

you're bleeding from an open wound
as the fluids slowly mix and grind
with the dirt and charcoal gravel that coats the ground
just like a lover's blanket
as you lay there, sprawled across the cement
arms open to the sky waiting
to drink the rain like medicine and watching
the soft candy of the clouds crawl
across the sky and slowly dissolve
beneath the crimson velvet tongue of the sun
as it plunges back into
the caverns of its mouth while swallowing the ground whole

you're bleeding as the skin peels back
showing the red dyes of passion
oozing down your legs and covering
the marred bruises of a forced love
that are springing from your broken flesh as your heart
beats against your broken ribs erratically
playing the memory of falling hard
and landing backwards on the rough surface
of the ground over and over again
creating an unwanted death bed
as you lie there, hands open to receive the grave
awaiting you

you're bleeding from an open scar
ripped right across your chest
as the soft thumping of your cells
entangle themselves within the heart
and try to squeeze the remaining feelings
that are floating on the surface of the blood
in their coagulated pools of regret
as it cools and pales
slowly draining from the soft petals
of your cheeks in bloom
with the soft scarlet of betrayal

you're bleeding as the flesh is ripped
apart and shredded with
the desperation of a mad lover
seeking his revenge for what he thinks is right
and worth acting on
measured by the wrong values of broken pain
being gently soothed by the smells and taste
of the sunset pooling against your skin
as those silver tears go gliding down
the bloody matter of your face
in all its agonized glory
under the pressure of abuse

you're bleeding from an open wound
as you lay there waiting
to die
while the sun explodes above you
and all the colours begin to run together

That Type of Love

That type of love,
marked black across the lines
of my skin rubbed raw
at the wrists and beating
painfully at the edge of my heart
as I lean forward
to fall.
I need to feel your skin on mine,
the crush of your fingers
in my hair, the tilt of my head
falling backwards
as I let go, allowing you
to be my only support
keeping me aloft with
the pull of those buttons,
the tear of my skin beneath
your teeth, my breath caught
in a ragged gasp fumbling
at the corners of my lips,
your name the last echo
before I allow myself
the gratification of
the end.

Broken Spine

I’d hope that you’d lick me back across the pages, scrape your teeth along the base of my spine, words floating past the muscles of your shoulders, ink spotted upon your lips in the delirium of this long and inspiration less night.

            

I’m always waiting for your hands around my throat, warm in the memory of this silence, your voice muted against the heavy pressing petals of the sleep that floods this night. And I stumble, cross and scramble through the dark, sliding out across the floor, blankets tangled, pencil, paper, anything I can find within my grasp, naked in the stinging need not to let it go.

           

Because you wake me at inopportune moments of the night, in the back alleys, the corridors and emptiness found in education, the silent seconds beside the traffic lurching forward, your hands tangled in my hair, my body heavy, my fingers burning and your voice a whisper in my ear that I’m about to lose.

            

I am about to lose it.

            

I’m scared of this moment, for I need to be blindsided, pressed against the shelving, trapped between your body and the wood, your lips a feather across mine to muffle the cry. For I am nothing without you, the gravitational pull you carry, the smirk of a smile stretched tight across your teeth, ready to bite, smash me forward, burry me under the grave of my own talent. You are always ready to kill, shred apart what ever love I give you, in an attempt to show you care.

            

Still, I’ll take what I can get, the cold traces of impact you leave trailing across my body, the realization that I can no longer escape, no longer go back to what we were before.

            

For I was your lover long before we knew it.

Island Blooming

This holds a different type
of greenery, pooled limped between
the scrapes of the pen and
arched between the branches
of my childhood,
as I lay back, caterpillers crawling
down the brittle sides of my ribs,
the mud sliding past my lips,
falling forward into the expectations
I formed on the fields, singing
while skirting the memories of previous days rain.
Yet when I close my eyes,
or run my fingers across the veins
in the bark of the tree in what
is now my city, choking back the mist off the lake,
I'm overcome to write the colours free,
spill the green forward and
spread it across the flesh of the page,
streak my tongue through the dirt
and subjugate myself
beneath the twisting,
pulsing, sadistic love
of the island in full bloom.