Suddenly Vanished
I wish I could package your breath.
And carry it with me.
Like a balloon.
My own private pillow.
Of life.
Silent.
But solid.
As a memory.
Drifting above me.
I would only have to pull the string.
And you would fall.
And if I forgot
to need you?
No big deal.
I could just release you.
Let you waft away.
Or I could damn you.
With a single prick.
From my nails.
Watch the Lamb
Passion is weak.
In this darkness
I have crawled to.
On your knees.
I want you
to know
the feeling.
Of the shadow’s fading.
So hopeless.
So controlled.
By a movement.
Intended to crack.
The world.
Dependent.
On the sun’s back.
The Patience of a Tortured Saint
You say my skin is like porcelain.
You know I will crack
when you drop me.
That’s why my edges are so flat.
Depressed
between your fingers.
I am embedded
in the blood
of your air.
And what a yawn.
To have become
a cliche
so young.
I know I must fail.
I know I must fall.
And complete your charge.
I just think
it’s more fun
to dangle.
Lightly.
Pulling.
The end of your chain
into the dark.
Dissolving into Yesterday
Floating leaves die.
Like fire.
Drink their breath.
Let it tangle with your own.
Such music begins
at dawn.
With moments set aside.
For angels.
Or, at least, their blood.
It drips like rain.
Filling oceans of silence.
Too perfect for waves.
They break the line of sight.
And follow sense
right down the drain.
