You're looking at me as though I'm enough to strike your match, hit home; and it'll devour you, lungs first as you watch me, your worst. Frankenstein, you and I, your pocket litter. . Ephemera balled in your jeans - Picasso of your genes. You sud yourself neck-deep in lemon scented hand… Continue reading Pentimenti
My father's home is not my mother's and yet, my home is theirs too. I share their walls, and they share my doors, but our lights don't have the same hue. The carpet between our toes don't rub the same places, nor do the scars in the bathtub draw the same lines. I trace the… Continue reading Where the Hearth Is
I fear the things that could kill a man. The things that want to slit you, from tongue to toe. The devils that leave only rubble and gold, and the ember-eyed devils that you know. I fear the things that like to see you bleed - the things that turn men into monsters. The ones… Continue reading Monster
You make me want to put my fingers at my temples Dig them in, massage away the sound of your voice the way you leave me no choice, your cruel insinuations Scratch with my nails, mark crescents around my ears You paste me under the wallpaper, hang my toes from the chandeliers. I wear away… Continue reading Skinned.