I Fear Not

I fear not that fire should swallow me whole
I fear not that flames should consume me
I fear not that fire should ravage my soul
Reduce me to ashes and doom me

I fear not that oceans should swell in my veins
I fear not that water should drown me
I fear not that oceans should wrap me in chains
In merciless torrents surround me

The ire of the flames or the pull of the tide
Alone would undoubtedly end me
Lest each, in its quest, with the other collide
And in its confusion defend me

Soft and White

It was in that word that I saw it -
glimpsed it, at least -
caught its life in these eyes
and tucked it away.

It sits now inside of a jar -
on a shelf, at the very top  -
I rarely take it down from there
as it is out of reach.

I watch it often, and closely -
it glows, soft and white -
unassuming though it may be
it fills the whole room.

i must be a masochist

little liquid fire fingers
spill in tendrils off your tongue
visible to only me and
daring me to run, run, run

but my legs are concrete columns
and no scream escapes my lips
as a mass of molten venom
swirls around your fingertips

every move you make releases
something else that's killing me
that won't stop you, you don't see it
so I'll suffer silently

finally my will is breaking
death weighs heavy on my chest
satisfied, you'll leave me to it -
jaded, I will acquiesce

Divinus (2012)

On that unending stretch of earth
she lies as if she lies with death
Though vital signs maintain their worth
in flushing cheeks and steady breath -
and in that soft and constant breath,
she is beguiled not by death,
(and so defiled not by death)
nor chastened by rebirth.

It catches in the static cling
of every ethereal goodbye
And with the virgin hum of Spring
is offered to the sleeping sky -
for all her years beneath this sky,
she's yet to know but one reply
(which none bore witness to but I)
and hasn't said a thing.

(s)word (2012)

I hate the word.
I hate the sword.
 
And ate the sword -
to take the word.

I reek of breath.
I reek of death.

And seek of death -
to reap of breath.



I am the sword.
I breathe its breath.

I am the word -
and that word's death.

Hunger's Thrall (2012)

I saw your sails from far away
Across the heaving sea
All tinted with the break of day
As they came back to me

I watched the waters crest and fall
As if they waited, too
With bated breath, in hunger's thrall
'til they should bring me you

we are all dead (2012)

i stand
silent
bathed in the hum of fluorescent light
afraid to breathe
for fear that this might
against all odds
be real

trembling hands grasp heaving shoulders
and i am my only comfort
all other voices reduce to ringing
in my ears
like gunfire
or a cannon blast
an explosion too close
to spare my faculties

blood chug-chugs in the expanse of my head
loud as a freight train
crashing through these white walls
racing my heartbeat and the gasp of my lungs
to decide who lives
and who dies

they have not once stopped to consider
that no matter who wins
we are all dead.