Two Hundred

There we go. Oh, here she goes:
the plunge. emit radiation humbly
a perfectly executed system.


lets not focus onward

Pheromones

Outwardly affectionate:
future fiendish fallacies
calibrate accordingly.
She still knows, even shows,
her eye’s intentions of
approaching the primitive.
And how futuristic of her.
Freshly frivolous fabrications
facilitate forward motion.
History sings, even screams:
she jumps vernacular guns!
I’m left thinking of new ways 
to say I told you so.

Stumble

Using a more genuine approach
and swearing by more than
chemical reactions or
malice,
she followed headlights
until she found her way home.

She felt like falling in love again.

Mercy

The day we became strangers.
Fond memories sought
rather than recalled.
Because it's not like
we’re yesterday anymore.
And it's not like my mind is ready,
rotting in hell; pieces falling.
Maybe this is learning but
I still won't call you a mistake.
I watched your legs shake.
And, oh lord, those eyes;
yeah I've fallen apart before but
when I saw those stars fade…


Lovely black holes.
Just please shine.

Short Breaths

I’m waiting by the sea,
only exhaling:
breathing room.



Spine sinks at the thought.

Going Steady

Burden beats steady on
insecurity, and
i wish i could
watch and mend;
know damn well
forwards/backwards
i would bend
for You.
but Burden beats steady
on the mind; unready.
and i don’t know my
way around hell-bent
adamancy.
thought it’d be more like
a hesitant second,
maybe meet halfway.
now i know. and i’m sorry.
Burden, i beat so steady.

The Pink Room

I see now why
memories
are meant mostly
for ebbing tides.
Parting,
I saw your coattails.

Next Time

Sounds.
You run, anon settle;
pavement turned
Silence:
my least favourite in
your repertoire.
A lack of any
known energy.
Ability to bitter souls.

The Inevitable

How’d you like that?
Actions just fine.
I left putting out fires on my hips;
lips entirely charred
deeming revival attempts futile.
And I’d say that I minded, but
my eyes were too keenly
framing, replaying every inch
of reel they could find;
basking in inhibition diminishment.
In that moment I swear
her every line was like the title
of a song I knew I’d love.


She was self-proclaimed
ship, wave, and ocean
sinking to my
touch.

Roadside

Twisted mist lined sheets
fog only for few, rarely new
sought suitors.
And oh, whistles and thistles
tickle dropped potential.