Silence hangs in grayscale
The inevitable distinguished
Hue of black – not white
And the discharge of forgotten love
Forever balancing
And displacing oxygen in bloodstreams

Glucose dripping from seams
Of broken thread
And gaping wounds
Held together merely
By biological practice
And shards of hurt
Pressing against the lines
Drawn effortlessly;
Another slip.

Fleshy fat hanging
From every crease
Of unsatisfying hate,
Blade of mistaken gratitude
Driving deep into
Soulless color

Hands have memories of their own, you know. Recollections of textures and temperatures. Memoirs of movements- shudders, rising and falling, jerking and tensing, releasing and relaxing, breathing… Touches. So many touches, all remembered, dwelling at the ends of wrists.

Head droops at the end of a neck like a premature flower blossom, halted by a sudden frost- an unexpected winter’s death. Shoulders remain tense with the hardness of stone- enclosing the struggle. Mouth drones on, words pass over bloody tongue and split lips infected with broken promises- I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry…

Hours laze by, barely breathing, as time creeps on without you. Day one. Day two. Day three. And on and seven and on and sixteen and on and twenty three and on and on and on. Eyes perpetually flooding with what you left me with. Brain churning thoughts into a toxic sludge of skull-numbing pain, broken promises, and skin-against-skin memories.

(Old)

A tattoo artist of the mind
To swab your brain with alcohol
And prick images of beauty
Onto a yielding canvas of purity
Forever remembered.

Evening Walk Through a Shameless Garden

9pm
10,000 feet high
on a bridge
standing, staring
down
all is still.
Even the first aren't swimming
No birds are singing their gallant songs
and the old man on
the bench stops
pointing his thing at little girls
let me be free
let me go
a hand holding back my dare
a hand pulls me down
a hand inside of me
here I stand
here I fly
how elegant it might be
to splash down
head first
legs last
feeding the lake
the yellow pus
from under my brain cast
and have the animals
suck and coo
until they have had enough
but they wouldn't even know
that they were just invited to transpose
and evil
something
here I stand
here I drown
you won't be back for
three days
the man on the bench scratches his crotch
a fish slaps the water
with it's tail
a bird squawks
as it chokes on a worm and I stand
on a bridge
10,000 feet high
9pm

(Old)

Skeletal wind-spent trees
house your memories
and crystalline pools
don't reflect your beauty-
just shows shallowness
for what it's worth.