| "I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby |


The thought of it (...)The thought of it by ~ClearSound
and I will mourn you in silence
with the illusion-ed curve of my lips,
dipping in and out of my syrupy slumber,
submerged in the ersatz comfort
of your lingering ghost.


April 15th He barricaded himself beneath the sheets,April 15th by ~ClearSound
thick quilts patched with fruitless dreams.
And he slept to catch a hint of "why"
of dying orchids and April rain,
of fleeting golden afternoons
turned to wishes in an onyx sky.
__
He found her ancient kisses sinking
to the depths of a well
of glossy ink,
and the words poured forth in search of a fragment,
to catch, for a moment
a wisp-
a whisper-
of
sweet breath trailing on the nape of his neck,
of
her lightness of touch,
fingers tracing his lips,
tucking galaxies at the foot of his bed, he
held her,
he held her and
she was a universe within his arms.
__
"My orchids are dying,


Of dreaming and the alphabet S: She used to write about you. She used to write about you in cities coated with fallen stars, in bright yellow taxis that could float across the Atlantic ocean. She used to write you in deep breaths and cotton clouds and dusk-time whispers. She used to write you in the ways that she loved: in ways that you weren't, but she'd hoped you'd be. And if you looked, you could find yourself preserved in Thursday poetics, in sad stories like hot bitter tea on a February night. Your name resonates in the scratches of a pen, in the tapping of a keyboard, in the chorus of every song in an overdue playlist.Of dreaming and the alphabet by ~ClearSound
S: Because she would feel you in the way you


Emmeline "Take me to a place where I can breathe the hymn,Emmeline by ~ClearSound
the astronomer's birdsong,
the Milky sea.
Oh, take me to a place to live and die
in the majestic view
of the galaxy."
__
Emmeline, she,
with blithely steps
took her penultimate breath
to sing:
__
"Living is my worship,
and music is my prayer."
| "I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby |







Wayfarer I think of you on wave tops,
feet drenched by frothed, unspoken vows
I couldn't bear to keep,
watching you slip off the tips of my fingers
and spiral down to where my hopes lie still.
Waiting to be taken in by ravenous waves,
the crescent moon mocks me, as I am left
crumpled in the sand.
And you, you are as selfish as those tides
that recede with no warning.
Mountainous lullabies settle on my skin,
like the dry death of words
left tickling my pores.
I hoped I could stay awake to whisper
practiced goodbyes,
but you played it well and took my thoughts
along with the sunrise.
Your eyes should have sent me away, instead,
but I w


a bomb on my palm (damned) seven devils have followed me alive
through internal crystalline mines
and the lines on my palm.
there's a bright life on my hands
through all the rivers in my skin,
where all the devils wait and wait,
housed there in my pores--
it's only so long before they rear
and roar up again like a long wind
sweeping me from the paths
of your lips like a dead word