I thought myself sharp
The needle hiding in your pillow
That you would prick your cheek
On my honed tip
I imagined the small well of blood
The surprise in your eyes
At my cunning camouflage
Wondering at the artifice
Of hiding in down
Instead you saw straight away
Plucked my tiny lancet up
Tossing it away incurious
Asking if I want a drink
My best laid plans
Decimated by your apathy
And my overestimated
Assumption of stealth


Blank Page

Lost in a world

With no tongue

No way to speak

Expressions never articulated

Dreams that escape

A twisted subconscious

Never reality

The tales told by bards

Long dead rotting

Words still moving

Floating through this world

Of cynical bastards

Who use these musings

To describe their desolation

Imagined in their miniscule minds

While the true librettist

Stares at the blank page

Pulls his hair out

And cries into the empty night

Wondering why the utterance

Of his soul

Is unable to manifest

In a world of fools


He promises to be careful.  His hands are dirty with paint and stained with nicotine.  Rough in places, smooth in others. When he touches me I forget the bills, the wrinkles, and the wish for something different.  I just think of him.  He makes me believe in eternal summer twilight, not hot but not yet cold.  The slight breeze lifting your hair, tickling your cheeks.  He makes me feel young, beautiful, incomparable.  He worships me with his words, prays at the altar of his desire for me.  He is imperfect.  Not the dashing handsome prince you imagine as a young girl. His crooked smile teases me.  His height makes me feel small.  The way he looks down at me makes me feel powerful.  He makes me feel alive.  We sit across the bar and imagine ourselves alone.  His mouth on mine, his hands touching me, our bodies pressing together in the smoky room.  Friends see my face and wonder who it is that makes me look as if I have just made love.  I laugh and say it is nothing, they imagine it.  He smiles slyly and catches my eye as he takes a drag from his cigarette with the same lips that have gave me so much pleasure.  He blows it out as he watches me across the table, his eyes intense and full of passion.  Our secret makes us giddy.  We can’t be together, not really.  Other lives are affected by our choices.  So we live each day full of want and need.  Dreaming of a day when we could be alone.  Our hands making trails down our bodies, our mouths forming words that aren’t planned and spilling them into our lustful ears.  Languidly memorizing our skin with our fingers and our eyes.  Exquisitely slow kisses, tasting each corner.  He says he knows my smell.  Sometimes it is there when I am not and he closes his eyes and imagines me.  I find my own thoughts drifting towards him as well.  Wondering if my flesh feels the same in his hands as it does in mine.  This desire.  It is killing us.  We try to stop and always come back here, to this spot where we are bound.  So he promises to be careful.  I promise my heart is really his.  We make these vows all the while knowing this sweet essence isn’t really ever going to belong to either one of us.  So we grasp tightly to what we can as the rest slips away.  And his eyes love me.  Oh God how they love me.


You do not remember

But we grew old

Our hands intertwined

Wrinkles full of stories

Faces lined with devotion

A lifetime of birthdays

And anniversaries

We have come full circle

Yet now you look at me

And see nothing but dewy skin

Thick golden hair

And love

As I lay here dying

Mechanical means helping me breathe

You open your eyes from prayer

To see me in my perfect state

I shall be eternally young

Surrounded by your love

Even as I slip from this plane

To the next

Young and lovely

Made eternal

By you

Judas Heart


He wants to explore

The depths of me

Wants to swim beneath

The surface of my smile

Tries to push his way in

With fables of devotion

And silken caresses

On my yearning skin

Weaving a tapestry

Covering my cold shoulders

Interlacing his body with mine

And my Judas heart

Turns on me once more

And lets him in

Not knowing that

If I try to breathe

I will swallow a mouthful

Of his smothering lies

He Said, She Said

He said this momentum

It won’t last

He said these feelings

Were transient

He said many things

Uttered few truths

And many lies

She said she was perpetually

The romantic

Her intensity has no bounds

‘This is me’

Was her mantra

She said her conception

Of love

Uttered truths only

He said she was exaggerated

Dismissed her

With his surly brow

His mere caprice

And platonic sentences

Forgot the pyre she had

Started without a flint

Using only her fervor

Her yearning for this

She said ‘I knew it’

This is what happens

She said she was always right

She said many things

Most importantly was

Her revelation that

This fucking sucks


Wisps of words

Touching your cheek

Sensation of something

That was perhaps

Packed away

In the garage of your mind

Marveling at the revelation

That you can still feel

All the while lamenting

That you still do