Incomplete

I am awake,
fingers clawing along the edge
of my eyes,
breath a white fog rising,
twisting against the frost
upon the glass of my window,
my heart empty,
blood pooling along
the length of my spine
as I attempt to scream.
I am wholly incomplete
without you.

Will You Love Her?

Will you love her, love her senseless,
plastered black against the night walls
of a million stars drowning beneath the surface of the sea?
Will you kiss her, knock her backwards, bleed her down until the end?
Will you break her, will you
make her, will you shake her hard
against the walls that try to hold us all together?
Will you love her, will you shove her down a flight of
broken stairs?
Will you kill her, will you grill her, question all the actions
against the rhythm of our sanity?

Because
I need to know, know if this love is real
in the vicarious search of blue passion
oozing across the skin.
All I want to do is watch you fall
scream first, into the trappings of a misogynistic
love.

Sinner

I am used to your sins,
the curdle in the air, the scream
that poisons the frothy
white of the milk.
There is no doubt it was you,
yet the evidence is foggy,
smoke upon the glass, ashes
upon the sidewalk
and mud within your hair,
a sweet, sticky solution
to these ravages
while you kiss me open,
hold me back,
and lie directly in my ears.
I fold myself to sleep within
your voice, my arms
wrapped 'round the hollow
of your ribs,
blessed in the ruddy wounds
that weight me down within fatigue.
Still,
I know the breath of a liar,
the stench of the mad
and the ever molting sensation
of a killer's hands wrapped
'round my neck...

and there is no discomfort.

Bald Moon

You know I dream of a
bald moon,
pale in the remnants of a sickness
floating on the surface of the skin,
frothing within the veins
and piling high behind my eyelids.
I'll pool in the blood,
mark 'cross the darkness
as I step forwards across the hollow bridge
while the soft
sick sounds of reality snapping
echo around my flesh and
through the hollow curves of my bones until
I'm dying
again and again
within the sheets of a murder,
all white,
all damned,
slowly smoked apart and served
upon glass dished with the semblance of
your screams.

You know I wish that this
was over.

Scream

I want you to listen to the
scream trapped beneath the surface
of your skin,
feel the bubble rising up into the sky
and burst with the realities of
this relationship ending.
Because, because I'll lick it clean when nobody's watching,
simmer in the sweet, kiss back the wounds,
seal it all up while trying to block the sounds
of dying
that echo through these compartment days.
I want you to realize, I want you
to taste the bruises on the underside of
the white picket fence,
drink the dirt down, swallow the garden whole and
pluck the feathers of this dream apart and cook it raw,
Because, because you never know
the sensibilities of emptiness dying,
your body crying the tears that come with
the blue pain of nightmares,
while the voice grows softer still.
I want you to listen to the
scream trapped beneath the surface
of your skin and
realize
that this is the end.

The Lines of this Moment

I breathe beyond the shallows
of the deep, my arms open wide
to catch the current
passing through my skin,
traveling along the lines, creases,
veins, pumps and gears of my body
as it slowly winds forward
into the reef,
the incredible light
along the lines of this moment
a faint trace along my shoulders,
your breath a bubble against my lips,
the split cry of this second
a burst behind my ears
as I dive forward into the calm
of the water,
and then...
nothing.