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A home, Plunges into stillness No one speaks From their separate illusions, Consumed by hidden perils – Fluent in their own verses They stray to their corners Where their locked away colors Flood the frames on the walls – No one dares to speak As they breeze past each other, Hurrying to the warmth…
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The bottle sits tall on the nightstand Awaiting her kiss A farewell to the vessels Sunk in oblivion – Ruptured from the inside By her bittersweet spell The warm depths receive them Babbling of their youth – Some rise and float on Others turn to bones Jutting out of the sand Still screaming…
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I’ve been told Bury your tragedies In the pit of your stomach With the sharp pains of shame That ripple through your mind – I’ve been told a man’s soul Never swarms with worry, He bears weight of the world As it grinds him into dust – I’ve been sold small morsels…
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The dark blue horizon stares back Once the hook and line is cast Two impatient eyes withdraw Searching earnestly within – The cold roar of the brine Sends him reeling backwards To a shared campfire Burning by the sea – But this serene dream passes Under the hollow spring day With no complaints Fulfilled…
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Whenever lightening rages in his skull His mind catches fire, Filled to its brink With rusted scraps of metal – The rebellion of his pulse Rises into his throat As his veins flood with venom At a stranger’s scathing call – The total sum of his being Is locked away in their vault…
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I seek life’s lonely hours When the heart pours freely When the dam has ruptured Crashing into the tide – Those small sacred hours Where patient omens glow And the lost shards of yourself Fall in place at last – Those spacious hours When your grief is awakened And forsaken love returns To your…
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The sun sets fire to the rooftops Crowded along the shore Ships bellow their goodbyes Fading out of the harbor – My port of call is sinking Into sequin blue As I’ve always adored Alive, Beaming into sunrise – The unconquerable noise Is my secret lullaby What I keep in the desert Amid the wind…
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I’m the still image of their helpless boy Housed in a wooden frame Frozen in place By the hands on their watches – Their eyes are lost in memories Of his cartwheeling joy Their boy of age nine With bat wings across his shirt – I’m a polaroid in their scrapbook Despite my fading cries…
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Confined To an ill-fitting body, When the loaded dice had rolled To their cruel demise – Now this vise only tightens As the rabid world encroaches Squeezing out sonnets, The colors of confession Wrung fresh from the soul – The façade grows fragile As the fault lines cross Whenever visions of flight Find refuge in the mind…
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Winding down In a burning spiral Collapsed In fragments Bleeding out the venom Of these fearsome times – The swill becomes a whisper A secreted charm Soothing the exhausted To a long sought slumber – Encircled By the city’s furious refrain This inner melody revolts And screams…
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