A fragile and feathery hope grows in my chest It tickles my ribcage and brushes against my cheeks Like the kiss of a bird’s wing as it takes flight. The moment suspended Between the weight of the world And the unburdened sky. Small and tender hearted This alien thing grows inside of me. At night I feed it quietly with whispered dreams And words I am too afraid to say aloud. I do not yet know whether it will become Friend or foe to me as it grows. ...
The bees have infested my brain again Rattling around within my skull Like a ricochet bullet Unwilling to settle on damaging a single target. They fill my mind with vibrations like a tremor behind my eyes Like a precursor pressure Waiting to crack open my head When the real earthquake hits Releasing the infestation of my mind Upon the world that was never prepared For this devastation that I have lived with Everyday like a close companion Or a haunting voice whispering in your ear Words you do not want to hear. ...
The jagged edges of me Clash up against fluidity; Unrelenting shattering. Shards of ice caught Between land and sea Where lines blur to reveal Snow blankets everything. Only the tall stand above The war of attrition Between the changing tides And the bedrock beneath.
Virgin snow collapses under a heavy foot Like sand washed away from a steep embankment By waves impatient of passing time. Footprints dug deep below the surface Only to be covered by the next snowfall; Man lacks permanence in a place such as this. Translucent diamonds fall from the soft blue sky Sharp and glinting in sunlight That offers no warmth or respite from biting winds. Tree limbs grow heavy with new white robes Bowing before the might of Winter With sideways eyes on far away Spring. ...
Be careful where you tread Small life grows here. Fragile yet persistent Chances of success Wax and wane constantly. Look closely Don’t miss the tiny opportunity To witness something Greater than yourself. A tree can grow With roots born from stone.
I know I have been gone for so long now And I was gone long before you noticed my absence; Long before the words stopped appearing on the page Life took me in and swallowed me whole. Before I realized that the dream was really A monster waiting with epic patience And a growling gut with my name written On the insides of its being, etched into its bones. It was born for me and I for it. ...
Sirens wail within the walls of these catacombs Reaching through the permeable loom And its outstretched strings weaving together A city of countless threads thinking they stand Independent from the unraveling yarn. But if we burn the end and watch the fire swallow the coil We will all burn together This masterpiece going up in flames Like the greatest bonfire of being That ever burst forth from the abyss of this abysmal world The powerful and strong will not reason The reckoning flame away That flicker of the snakes tongue can taste the air Filling with heat, the crackle and pop of thread Being split in twain But just alike, both will burn together.
Day Fourteen Silence weaves with delicate needle fingers the lips of eternity together to protect the world from its whispers. This loom of words, each string of sentences used to thread together the flesh of fear and tie up the loose ends of antiquity making modern the mask of mystery; giving it a grin more akin to a grimace fighting back the suture of sin that sealed the seventh scroll. The world will unravel in its own calamitous coil, we tried to piece it back together but the piercing hook that once bound now bends against the hardened flesh finding it impenetrable and unyielding even to the craftsmen that created them. But still we keep breaking our fingers trying to get a hold of your hearts to breath back life into your being and let the ruach make what once was stone, new flesh again.
The Old Name had died of a Fool’s trick that was perfect.
Hit the floor like a shot to the mind set in deep-sea waters.