Wordle #284

Even the flames of appetite

pass unanswered and unremarked

in the faux pas and arrogance of a new dawn.

You were never final,

never trustworthy,

never one to answer my prayers,

spoken or otherwise,

but in a dank and inscrutable darkness

we made use of our bodies

and created a moment

which felt very much like an always.

I watched you sleep

from a distance

and from a distance

you looked very much like love.

So much so that

I left my number

carelessly beside your phone

and put on your sweater

instead of my own.

I am that wilderness

Photo by Michael Olsen on Unsplash

I have too many emotions.

They stick in my teeth,

in my twisted viscera,

in my glowing red heart

in my stiff grey lungs.

They are my hands and my feet

and all the spaces in between.

Feelings can’t be ascribed

to any one organ

they rise up between

the solid bits.

They are a void.

They are eternal

right up until the moment

of exchange.

I am inconsolable

whatever my orientation.

Viscous and viral

there is a wilderness

so wild and so vast

that no map could ever

hope to translate it.

I am that wilderness.

I never have

the same emotion twice.

Each emotion is its own construct.

The only thing which is certain

in me is uncertainty

but that does not

bring me comfort.

I sleep hundreds of hours a day.

I am the dream, not the dreamer.

I do not wake but every now and then

life comes pouring in like salt water

and takes me to another place

and in that foreign place

I take on the arduous task

of drowning.

Add Me

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

My heart became

a magnifying glass,

a weapon of light

and ongoing deformation.

I do not mean to burn with love

but I am desperate

and lacking in imagination.

All eyes and no soul

my heart looked into yours

and fell against its little bone door

with fear and trembling.

If I let you in

I will never be free of myself.

Eyes opened or closed

you will always see me.

Love became a thing,

an extraordinary and incomprehensible thing.

Even if I give doubly of myself

I will never be able to earn it

because that is not part of the exchange.

I always seem to be missing

something and that absence

creates a distance between myself

and the object of my interest.

How can 1 plus 1 be of more value

than 1 times 1?

Multiplication seems so powerful

until the numbers are forced

to confront the possibility of solitude.

Maybe we need each other to grow.

Maybe that’s why my value never rises.

When I think about it

I have been searching

for someone

that I can occupy.

I want to be a ghost

in your home.

To be with you,

to be seen and not seen,

to possess intermittently,

and above everything to dream.

I have been struggling with Depression fiercely lately even though I feel I have so much to rejoice and have been on some lovely adventures lately and have also received tremendous support and love.

Sunday Confessionals: Quoting


It was everything at once.

The ground became a sea

and the walls that sorrow had fashioned

around my heart gave

and I found the space

and the depth to bring you closer.

With every struggled breath

I learned how to ride

the currents

and overcame my fear

of drowning.

When at last I became the water,

the water turned to air

and I learned to dance

without the crutch of gravity.

I obtained new heights.

I found within myself

the stars and all their glory.

When at last I became the stars

the stars turned to fire.

I learned how to burn,

to transform, to inspire

and when I thought

I can learn no more

I became a seed.

(I may go back and work more on this. I was in a hurry.)


Photo by Geoffroy Hauwen on Unsplash

I wait for you

as if it were myself

that were absent.

It is strange

how a body

filled with blood and air

and countless,

infinitesimally small lifeforms

can feel so empty.

Every moment can be

traced back to you,

especially those moments

which have not taken place.

I wanted you to be there

spilling past my margins

like sunlight through a window.

In the presence

of ecstatic couples

I think of how it might feel

to connect heart to heart

with another human being

and it haunts me.

Given the right angle

and the right intention

I feel certain

that our bodies

could become singular.

But the stars never overlap

and it seems

that I am meant

to occupy my own

solitary space indefinitely.

If ever my light

should touch you

I hope that you

will think of me

and remember as I do

all the things

that never happened.

Star Climber

Photo by Armand Khoury on Unsplash

He weaves a ladder

from strands of his hair

and when his head is bald

he takes of himself

molecule by molecule

and slowly fades from sight.

The sky is his home

and its accoutrements his only companions.

He has given up everything

in order to understand

the truth of his existence.

There is nothing left

but to climb until all

possibility is exhausted.

And so he climbs

ever higher.

The light thins

and then yields to blackness.

He cannot see, taste, feel, smell, hear

he has only a knowingness to guide him.

There is no more air to be siphoned,

no more heartbeats to warm him

and fill him with music.

He is all soul.

Whatever he touches

reaches straits through him.

Whatever he holds, however, momentary,

unifies within him.

His consciousness extends

over vast distances

and one by one he becomes

all the stars in the sky.

Photo by mouad bouallayel on Unsplash

Inspired by The Archeo (an oracle deck which speaks of personality archetypes)


Wordle #283

The moon hangs cockeyed and nebulous

between two supervisory clouds.

Her pale, obsessive light moans and is lost

to the wind’s pervasive howl.

I watch for her in the day time,

my lost lover,

my mercurial muse. She is always

beyond my grasp.

The stars are love letters ripped-open with longing.

Dead or otherwise unanswered.

They are proof of the uneven passage of time.

I must be immortal for in searching my memories

I find evidence of my life again and again and again.

My nerves shake

and rub together in front of an indeterminate fire.

My dreams are too spread out,

none neighbor to the other,

I must traverse great distances

and vast continents

in my quest for unification.

One day I will be a person

who can stand up and fall down accordingly.

I am uncomfortable in my claims.

Beware of the man who knows too much

for he admires nothing but the fingers of his own hand.

I am just as uncomfortable with the notion of certainty

as I am with the notion of uncertainty.

One defines the walls of your prison,

the other rips off the ceiling and beckons you

into the unknown and ever-changing sky.

A bit of writer’s block today.


Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

We fell


like words on a page.

Breath caught;

in the margins

between our bodies.

The biggest moments

in our lives

can only be

conveyed through a whisper,

or a SHOUT. My heart

says it all.

In my mouth

a hint of oyster,

tears half-salted. I can’t breathe.

My fingers dance

through your hair and I

find a rhythm

and I think maybe

you instigated

the whole thing

but it’s still music.

The kind of music

that makes you,

fall in love.

Heart to heart. I exhale.

Bodies breaking gently,

pressing and decompressing

like waves. I hold my breath.

We cling

lips, fingers, tongue


to steal a breath.

Your skin

touches my skin.

It’s too hot

to think.


Just smile and float.

There’s something

stuck in my heart,

to feel is a blessing

and a curse.

We are all

the people in the world

when we are

tangled up together.

We are magenta.

My feelings

feel infinite.

I push you away.

I inhale deeply.

The air is cold

without your breath

inside of it.

It’s not enough.

There was no before

because I am sure

that I didn’t know

how to breathe

until you kissed me.

You were

my first breath,

I am alive

because of you.

I am auditing a free poetry class. Just started. Trying to understand rhythm but I have zero musical sense so I am not sure if I have achieved the effect I was after.

Lesser Gods

Photo by Ganapathy Kumar on Unsplash

If I have learned anything

it is that you can’t pull

a reflection out of a mirror.

What we call love

is simply the recognition

of self within another.

Hate is when that same person

disappoints your expectations

which is inevitable

because no two humans

are exactly the same.

I could be a sun

with my own heat and gravity

or I could be the moon

which follows.

If I knew how to be the sun

I would be the sun

but I possess

the physiognomy of the moon.

My mercurial blood burns

just as much going in

as it does coming out.

I never wear the same face twice

and my moods are always

tinged with melancholia.

A smile is just a little bird

with its wings outstretched.

Tears are punctuation

they appear whenever

an emotion gets too big

to cram into a single breath.

I am prepared to live

the exact same day

for the rest of my life.

This is what it means

to put your faith in lesser Gods.

I found myself in your eyes,

that little sliver of divinity

which speaks of union

and I fell in circles around you.

If I love this man enough

then I might just forgive myself

for a lifetime of neuroses and repetitions.

Only to forgive myself

it is necessary to keep him

and to keep him

it is necessary

to cut away the pieces of myself

that don’t fit.

Find an object to worship

and grow small with redundancy

or find the God within yourself

and become a universe

miraculous beyond measure.

Those are your only two choices.