Dreamwalker

my nerves are flayed and bursting blue and red an green and yellow splattered colour. melted globs of paint that shoot from veins i watched it drain like blood mixing ...

i could count every word she ever thought every ill and butchered version of herself that floundered across the smooth marble of her perfect mind, cooling images of broken mirrors ...

i’m pretty good at breaking things like the first pair of glasses i ever owned (snapped in half, the way my shoe crushed thin plastic frames and shards of glass ...

i feel old today brittle and concave, like the cockle shell on my dresser drawer breaking apart in thin strips and forgetful of what once lived within (they harvested the ...

I sometimes wonder if it’s raining or if it's the pattering clicks and clangs of my memories - fragmented and rigged as they are - piecing together, one by one, ...

I see in two directions a chameleon of sorts, each eye catching light of someone else’s passing breath (you had a way of exhaling deep and inhaling sharp) each mouth ...

start peeling back layers in two’s and three’s and watch as the skin parts from skin, two millimeters at a time. I’m like a journal, each sheet covered in yesterday’s ...

the space between my fingers ached, like the breath between the landscapes you and I both knew. the way the world seemed to feel so small and yet so large ...

it's insatiable, this dwelling nonsense, drinking back words that well like fountain pens or the sickly sweet cough syrup that numbs a cold I cannot shake, but slows the space ...

they say love’s too strong for the passionate. tell that to the fool who calls himself a writer and he’ll cry a passionless tear for the death of romance, where ...

drink deep and fill your lungs with lake water. it tastes cold and numbing, like snowmobile tracks that winter you got lost and ran out of gas. it’s a long ...

it’s like screaming on the inside but the voice is a tad like a cat mewling, fettering in its own disdain of having yet been fed. I feel as if, ...

it should be more consistent like that dwelling nonsense I hate so much, and to wait on subsequence like a dog who bites its master feels privy and uncouth, ugly ...

I don’t know how to save you. not in so few nor so many variations of pallid skin; the way it knotted around your cheeks, and you were cold, ...

i sink my teeth in graphite sticks and draw with the grey hues in my perspiration. it’s where the time seems stiller, more controlled, and i mark each surface i ...

let’s be honest this time. I wasn’t all that great with telling truths. not when I meant to say ‘I love you’ and broke

tell me a story and I’ll feel fearless for a moment. a candid splatter like ink spilled too close to the edge of the table, we’re curling off the page ...

i. she’s drinking absinthe again, by the wayward sleeping husband of a creature you’d call love in labor, and she watches you with directive force, lingering on the bar ...

I used to curl into you - into the itchy wool platelets of your chronically cold blood vessels around the thin, barbwire veins that kept you all hauled in tight; ...

everyone deserves nice things to be said at their funeral -- so why is it that I can’t manage to chase after those double-sided comments that keep fluttering up ...

i was in a mood

and maybe we deserve it

and it ends so quickly

and you want truth more than you want love

newer fears and greater truths