His Sport

Ask ye I, Shame
What is it you want of sport with me

A story to tell
This cloddish girl

Oh! How she fell for parallel universe truths

A jovial tale
Where thee, with all thy dark proclivities
Shouldst mute and suffocate her good heart?

Sleep Demons

It’s not our fault, the night
Racing in to become the pace car to our heart rate
That it might conquer

Why weave these words, darkness, ’round our ankles?
Utterances we used to need to hear, that would have us walking tall?

I can’t say your name, but your number, I know
‘Til my last breath, I call you the liar you be

Your wishing to blackmail
Your attempt to bruise
Reality we now enjoy

Ask us to wrestle, and wrestle we will
For you have lost us
To flowers and fauna
Forever to smiles from friends

Again
And over again

Dissection

My soul the General
Directing a blood battle

Commanding legions of voices in my head
Take no prisoners!

A Civil dissection upon shared territory
Pitting brother truth against father lies 

War already won
But war is hell, and this battle, more so

My aristocratic hands, hard evidence
My afire body, further proof

I’m fireproof and unquenchable
A knifesman and blacksmith to the bone

Celestial Bear

My soulmate constellation
The big deal in the sky, to me

Oh, how you rocked my statuesque space

And, more so, mocked me

Be there any hour, any hemisphere
That might set fixed these spinning bodies?

workman

i count the Lies
discarded so effortlessly
They float like feathers
from Your lips
and are my bible


i count the Zeros
carved painstakingly
They scar like stains
on my skin
and are Your poiēma