Dim Opus

They abused the beautiful right out of her, and skewed the truth until she doubted words. So, if she's worth a worry now, we can't be sure. Seems her worst work is blurry, but it's painted pure. Brought forth from the bristles of her broken brush, as she sighs through the splinters brought by hope… Continue reading Painted Pure →

My brain, the birdcage. Brimming with butterflies. Thoughts come and go without a proper door to make them mine. So if something shines, I'll take the time to stop this train dead in its tracks, and pave a path past past threads of my mind. I'm not one for steering or focus. See, my hamster… Continue reading Focus →

I'm pretty sure I'm a perfectionist. But I've selected this because I know a label's blessed to miss. You see, perfect's far from an impressive wish. Much more a blister bent on dismissing missed calls and ripped shawls. Crystal clear as the water with which comes withdrawals. I'm some muddy mother fucker made of prepped… Continue reading Perfect →

I should know as well as any other sad sap set out to scrawl their thoughts on paper just how unpredictably turbulent human connection can be. Especially when we throw the "love" label on our relationship with another soul. Regardless of that word having romantic or familial implications, it's a nasty witches pot full of… Continue reading Dice Rolls and Ice Cold Shoulders →

I've no regard for the road. But even so, I keep a fear of leaving in tow. Steeped in tears from the grieving gray. Seedlings snapping as we careen away. With a trailer full of horrid horses, Whose eyes endorse our bored remorsing. Their forceful snorts and failures pouring Out of mouths that doubt, bite,… Continue reading Trail Blazed →

I built this body by dysmorphia because less of me is more to love. So, without words, the lips curve. To match rib bones, clearly shown. An uphill climb, with a knotted pine spine, and I call it all mine.. Every bite, consumed with necessity, and self spite. If only to cease the screams of… Continue reading Body by Dysmorphia →

Today was meant to be the unholiest of fucked up celebrations, but happened to have the gambling addicts bad luck of falling on the most mundane of days. One that even shares the first couple syllables with the goddamn fucking word. I see endless remnants of breakfast burrito and candy wrappers litter the street next… Continue reading All Hallows’ Munday →

It's quite unfair, that life's a spiteful flight of stairs. So we fly our kites from halfway there, and fight the urge to stare. At every extra passing by, the best impressions of lasting lives.Who cracked their canines, climbing high. Past the halfway trapped youth, you and I. Towards the top stair and goodnight. But,… Continue reading Halfway →

Due to thrift stores and boredom, I accrue missed scores and hoard 'em. Kept new by players now post mortem. Or less blessed, Too past due to afford 'em.

I'll feed you field notes from a festered wound, of how death impressed a desert bloom. In a mess, invested, more or less pests entombed. Slowly sidestepping elephants, left ingesting rooms. When life moves a million miles an hour, you can watch from the window, but you'll miss most the fuckin flowers. So slow down,… Continue reading The Festered Wound →