Touching me

Was the equivalent

Of piercing my lips

With a fishing hook

Only to rip it out

And leave my mouth

Full of blood

And wanting.

I want to rake my fingers

Across your brain

And with your grey matter

Under my nails

I will spit seeds into

The furrows

So you can feel the consumption

Of a hate you did not sow

Lover.

Salt of my skin.

Dust of my bones.

I exorcise

the ghost of you.

Bound for the sake // of beauty,

For the sake // of being wanted

Cotton bandages can only constrict so much

Before the threads begin // to unravel

I have soaked myself in herbs and blood

For softening

Have fit a foot of yours and mine // into a single shoe

With three inches // to hold us both

From heel // to broken arch // to toe

Now dance

Dance upon these feet,

These crescent moons upon a stage—a lotus

And dance a story:

     Of us

Spins and leaps translate our meeting,

Followed by a spotlight’s blinding flare to make us stumble

And fall

Off comes the shoe // revealing ugly truths // once bound beautifully

My shattered feet unfold from the bandages

And you are subjected to my raggedness

Your eyes drawn toward the audience

A soliloquy of sorts

Seeming to say:

     Look at this contorted liar

                 this twisted thing for which I have no love

You take the exit and the spotlight wanes // to a new moon bulb,

The audience shuffles out // forgotten tickets in their place,

And I am left to lie bare before the empty seats,

Your phantom voice ricochets // throughout the halls

A cacophony of sounds

In this emptiness

Broken records scratching and crackling old love songs

We could’ve called ours

These feet, which cannot walk // made bags of gravel

These bones, which cannot mend // fill me // but cannot support me

I cannot bear the ghost of us—lest I

Become a fallen star with:

     Concave back

     Buckled spine

     Fissured vertebrae

As the curtain finally falls

I ask you:

Play your trumpet in the pit of my chest

No strings

No percussion

Just the brassy cries of an instrument I played once, too

I just want to be held in the hands of God

Cradled and rocked in the arms of His,

With such ethereal tenderness and kindness

That elevates me to an aerial view over

All of my mountains of botheration. 

I just want to be led by God.

Wear his holy sandals that'll keep me on the

Straight and narrow even if I'm coming

Straight outta Compton.

I just want to hear God.

Put on His ears that listens to

heaven's language, angelic dialects and

eternal music.

I just want to see God.

Look at the world in His perspective, causing

The Paradoxes of oxymorons

To paradigm shift.

Changing everything that I thought about to

be true, valuable, precious and important to

Be the exact opposite of that.

I cannot describe what a smile looks like.

Nor can I recall the sound of a laugh.

Too familiar with straight faces and unending rules.

What I'd love is one year to myself,

then I'll do what you tell me to do.

One year to do the unthinkable.

Break tons of rules so people would see me as original.

I'd laugh, shout, dance, act insane,

anything to be called a wild child.

What was once all in my head,

you'd see all around.

No more tiptoeing around

or head shakes of disapproval.

Just one year to be free.

Can you give that to me?

You can bound me to chains

and make me scrub the floors.

I'll serve you to the end and more.

But first,

give me a year.

Give me a year,

so when I'm yours,

I can look back on that year

and smile inside as I do your work.

Reality;

not able to relate.

Life has become

a semblance

of the norm.

To The Masquerade.

Dance.

Weave in and out

of conversations

and events,

ever masked.

With eyes Full

Tears falling

Needs exposed

With Random Aces

Dealt High

Emotions hoping

For a winner

Who takes It all

The moonless night Unfolded Into tunnels across an extinguished Sky Smeared with Madness Life was concealed With dying Hope And tears that flooded It rained white acid from fallen angels And Embers Burned the dirty caskets And With despondency rising from its lava core The Earth was shattering for Whore desire The Blood-orange fire smelled like death It exhaled heavy over barren land The last star dropped and was lost to oblivion And As I sit here trembling my poison grows I drink brown rust to dull my Pain And birthed from you my Sorrow weeps