heavy eyes sink, into my hollow
skull. finger tips blued, nails
chipped and worn. it began
with a coldness, washing over
my vibrant being. how I miss
the body, I once was. It pried
melodies from my throat, and
composed a dirge where they
resided. then, it filled my lungs
with sludge, that way, when
I cried out, the tune would
further corrupt. I lay helpless,
worn, and tattered. I do nothing
but lay, and wait, for the familiar
embrace, of health.

i knocked on
your door,
you opened with
a smile;
you knocked
on mine,
i returned
the favour;
the building was empty -
or at least,
the people living in it.
you were different,
though -
you were full of
little surprises.  
you were gentle -
like your touches;
and your kisses;
and your movements;
and my solitude:
of which -
you stripped me,
with your movements;
your kisses;
and your touches;
you shook me,
to say the least.
i was a sick man -
literally, and otherwise:
and it rubbed off
on you, a bit.
yet, you leaned on me;
pressed me;
cupped me;
grazed your lips
against the wet corner
of mine -
swooning;
drooling;
licking;
me choking on
cigarette smoke.
you choking -
every now and then.
you sick freak!
your uffs…
your aahs…
your mmms…
your every breath.
i loved you -
more than anything
in the world
in that moment;
that exquisite moment.
my eyes flickering;
my heart pounding;
my silence, silencing.
it was just right;
you were enough,
in that moment,
and all that
was you -

and then,
you left.

there are no beds
so they are contacting
God
to see if there is a vacancy
but it looks like
not even that entity
wants you yet

Searching for Galileo,
    the race to be first home,

In a sea of patients
    we climb the probability tree,
    walk upon the shore collecting
      memory shells,

We win the little wars,
     lose the big fight,

These windows are breathing apparatus,
     this ceiling, a blur of tungsten sky,
     rain, tears, weep,

To rest near to you,
     the technicolor sleep,
     and I died with you,

All farewells are sudden.

Slop
in the trough.
Poison cough.
Shattered femur.
No dreamer.
In a world of crime
It is
Time

I've never saw such vibrant waterfall before,
Took off my clothes, left to dive in,
Ventured the silky blue till the bleak red,
Watched the paints washed together, before
Bask myself beneath the glowing yellow.
Only this time I had hurted my gaze,
I saw no more silky and bleak hues,
No more fluids, or glowing light.
I blinked once, then twice,
Through my eyes,
The pitch black waterfall became,
Nothing I could recall,
As the girl looked at me,
Like the empty space I saw.

You're in my head; you're in
          Like rabies.
I've got you under my skin,
          Like scabies.  

You're in my heart; you're heart-
          Attacking.
You crack me up.  I ****.
          I'm cracking.

Skin itched by
sweat rash grown, on
shoulders rubbed by
clothes that don’t breathe

An ear is blocked
I can hear my own voice
irritated by its sound
against the blur of trivial noise

I cannot bear matters
that does not resolve themselves;
But am more annoyed by those
that could, and did not

If tomorrow always find things better
Like a clock with self-steering gear
— it intimidates me, the thought of
all midnight struggles made futile

This emotional ball of yarn
rolls forward, bigger and bigger
I lay all fingers to disentangle
only to weave them tighter

I am suffocated
by the impatience to spit it out
My mouth wide open,
the candy sticks in my throat

i confess you like a sin
my friends are getting sick of it
and i'm quoting you like Byron
and i’m just getting sick
like a song in my head
if god existed
like a bruise on my neck
we would have discussed it
so I just quote you again
and it's still obsolete
cause Byron's got nothing
and I'm doomed to repeat it