There’s no way out of here alive
With molten fever consuming my fraying mind

Bound fragile to flesh cast cog
Bound to sprocket and brittle bone
This hollow machine I call my own
Harbors both frontline and buried home
Thickly sick in uncertain, clogs

A riddled complex bleached with textureless rooms
Where, scrawled white, scribbled deep, the walls sputter
Void of voice and prop yet choked with clutter
None window, none door, save intangible lover
Offering both belief of choice and doom

Her name wanders worlds to haunt my lips
But only death and delusion come to meet my kiss

There, splashed and splayed through blistering ash
Dripping sparks from horizon’s blazed ceiling
I’m thrown ‘gainst the frame, my heart reeling
So the earth holds me to the floor, both of us bleeding
I, within, myself, side foiled folds and crass

Lo, her silent beauty weeps and screams
Siren! Angel! Demon! ; So I’m Pygmalion’s craze
And her, his pride to leave me razed
Then I, her bird, braves her play and blade
That carves my fall through trap-rapt dream

For her and I, on wings; hopes tried,
To wake and break us out alive.

the grey against the blue sky,
      metal bars,
            power coursing,

it pokes high above the horizon,
      tall,
           mighty,
                     human,

nova scotia's hills don't rise up nearly as far,
     flat in all directions,
                  textureless, and
                                  so, so wide,

large trucks drive beside the tower,
      small,
            pathetic,

A bigger truck comes by, washed in red,
      loud,
            bright,
                    blaring,­
    
the smell of smoke upon the suits of the
     brave,
           the daring,

the big, blue, cloud-filled, wonderful sky,
       blue no longer,
                    their hope,
                             lost in minutes,

no death, yet so much smoke,
      smoke,
            like the swirl of sand in water,

the water sitting near the strong metal bars,
       the telephone tower,
                         still tall and mighty,

the water with the highest tides in the world,
       rippling hard,
                  against the rocks on shore,

orange buoys float roughly in the harbour,
     a line to never,
                     ever cross,

kids will boat out there with their paddles,
     the breeze knocking them,
             side,
                  to side,

and the world breathes in, for it holds all,
       good or bad,
                  and it is full,

full despite everything.

The terror in the wind was returned

the terror of a faded chanson
  
my nose is bleeding again

  The banished outlaw that lasts
   through February surviving off therapeutic liquid (from the river)
    
    desperation settles in my head
  preparing his rounds carefully
  
  how many times
       the cycle continues
               how many times
                     the ranger wonders
              
A tower of roses lay dormant
in exile, unmapped,
waiting, and my heart persists to see it in person instead of this textureless carving of memory

  like a poem on an olive wall who
  seeks an understanding with the
  c
  h
  i
  m
  n
  e
  y
        its narrow, black eye
gazed at silken eternal and
        the Sun
        & romantic language
              O to be grateful for the Moonlight
                kissing me at dusk
                (The wall dreams)
               now focused on the living room clock. expanding
              
                the Winter coming to its end