Friday, February 26, 2010

Darkest Days



The white blanket
now ravaged—a victim of conformity,
lay wasted heaped in a corner
of the cellar.

My only comfort in darkness now gone,
fatality to my own vices.
Vanity and greed, and lust—
lust.

The lust found only at a brothel
during midnight hours, where men
prance like packs of outcast lions.
And I alone in my room tonight

am left with nothing to cover these sins,
the sins of regret and vicarious nature;
sins even misplaced solace
could never cover in its brightest hour.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Spark


I am the medium, and you the spark;
I have yet to feel the heat
from these flames.

Pour a little gasoline on the pit,
make it sour so it will spit;
a little turpentine and lawnmower oil
should do the trick.

I want to see the glitter, the lightning
show I've been waiting for;
so I'll just gather material
to soak in this menagerie,

the filthy games we play. I am not a god,
nor do I follow religion,
but this bonfire is growing
and I'm in the middle of it.

Set me on fire and spread the ashes.

I only wished to make you feel
like this was worth the fuss,
yet you stand here with your matches
and I'm left waiting to combust.

Friday, February 5, 2010

A Ghost's Tale



A sea bound romance
washed ashore leaving ripples in the sand,
melancholy, the lighthouse giving way
to no direction.

She sees me like an apparition,
void, and devoid; a ghost of a sailor
that's lost his way from a sunken ship.
His lover trapped in an oyster

below the depths of blue, a pearl
without a cause or hope.
He walks the sand
leaving no footprints

searching for something he's lost,
that something, buried beneath the tales
of Moby Dick - through time and distance,
his obsession—lethargic.

What once was his one desire, now defeated,
emerged a love of his true tale.
And he will continue to walk this endless beach
until he finds that pearl,
washed upon these silken sands.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Time and Distance

I thought of you tonight
as I witnessed your face on a crystalline portrait,
puncturing the mist of an oversized screen.
Through the discrepancy of time and distance

I moved from the chair to the bed
with thoughts that swelled and jolted me
from one side to the next and back again,
never leaving a moment's rest.

A hundred different scenarios
played out in an over shocked mind,
and in each one I ended up falling out
of the feeling that was so familiar.

They called it love but I call it nothing.
Twisting me back and forth choking
back the salt stains dripping from my eyes
I got up once again and paced.

Pace—pace. What good is it to dwell
over something that could have never happened.
I made it up in my mind.

But you played along. Another notch in your belt;
another crease in my heart.