Muse: Favorites

Jan 2014 Muse

peonies

Jan 2014 Muse

Amelia

peonies

the peonies in the front yard are just starting to bloom.

the only thing i lust for anymore is sleep.
my fingers are aching to touch another human being,
and when a woman lugging around her child
in a stroller asked me the time,
i dropped the package i'd been collecting
from the post office
while fumbling for my phone.
i cried on the way home,
and applied a thick coat
of red lipstick.
thinking perhaps the camouflage of confidence
would hide the fact that i am merely
wilting husk of vapidity.

the peonies in my yard will die
in six weeks.

Jan 2014 Muse

Happy Dust;

Jan 2014 Muse

typhany

Happy Dust;

I did not write a poem yesterday
Because the depression sunk deep
Past my skin, into my bones
And collected all of my happy dust

I am terrified to imagine anymore days
Without poetry, without writing--
Have you ever been utterly terrified
To be without your one love?

I am at a stand-still
With no where left to go
But down
down
down.

Jan 2014 Muse

me too;

Jan 2014 Muse

typhany

me too;

the vines must have wrapped around your throat
and tore the life out of you
because now we hardly talk
and when i say i want to die, you simply reply,
"me too."

Jan 2014 Muse

rotting

Jan 2014 Muse

Amelia

rotting

i never thought i'd pray
but you got me on my knees.
staring at the sky in
the middle of the night,
freezing cold and wondering
if scars fade in heaven.
each shot-glass
that held the promise of warmth
tasted like embalming fluid.
i asked myself if the
soul spread all the way
to my fingertips,
and was faced with the bitter
realization that nothing
is irreversible
and even death has become
as ephemeral as a bruise.

tw scars, cw alcohol

Jan 2014 Muse

the addict unwrapped;

Jan 2014 Muse

typhany

the addict unwrapped;

my arms remember razor blades and spiked needles
and my veins ache to feel the warmth of her
swimming perfectly through my bloodstream
and engulfing my every fear, my every desire
until i am nothing but a pool of sticky tar

my nostrils burn without the powder
flying into my brain, and dripping down my throat
keeping me awake for days on end
and opening up my mind for my pen
shaking as i hold it to the paper; scribble

my tongue dwells on the bitter taste of hallucinogens
that made me dance in the coldest rain
and swim in the smallest pools of warm blood
that erupted from the belly of an orange tiger
who held my hand, and danced to the beats

my stomach remembers the feeling of pill bottles
emptied out; the tablets dissolved
coaxing me into warm slumbers, and forgetfulness
i miss the feeling of letting go
of love, of pain, of regret

Dec 2013 Muse

Do not let Death in

Dec 2013 Muse

ml

Do not let Death in

Do not let Death in.
No!
Surely, he will take my breath away.
He does that well. Yes, very well.
Do not let Death in.
For he will make me go with him.
Somewhere quiet. Down into the catacombs because he says
He shall be the only one to see me.
He does not like sharing.
Even if he has a dozen others at his disposal.
Do not let Death in.
He does not leave once he has come inside.
No, he stays around.
Far too long for comfort but you will never notice.
For he appears only in the walls. At night. When you are all asleep.
He glides off the white paint and visits me.
But do not be afraid; he lingers in the air.
As he waits for his next victim, you will feel him chilling your bones.
Around your house, do not despair when you feel alone. He is with you.
Waiting for the right timing,
And then you shall stand in his trophy case filled with his other many conquests.
So please,
Do not let Death in.

m.j.