as sudden as sunset
the sadness descends
with old blood weight
on the pristine of snow
she shifts inside, sighs
finger draws the frosted panes
Tag: melancholia
sudden as sunset
catscratch
with skin kissed in rope burns
and pricked of thorns
sheets stained of summer and
whispers screamed at forlorn
all barbed with catscratch
do you desire anything more?idle thoughts
I sometimes wish I could be the knight bewitched by La Belle Dame sans Merci. I might be doomed to an imminent grave, but at least I will enjoy heading to my doom.
Or, perhaps, I feel more like hopping in my skiff and riding the stream after failing to keep my focus on the mirror, and looking at beauty riding on by as did The Lady of Shallot.
Or give myself to the waters in a fit of madness, as poor Ophelia did.
Who suffered more? Tristan or Isolde? Let me taste that joy in the time before they fell.
This is all absurdity, and yet… and yet… At moments there was joy.
purgatory
purgatory wasting through
these feet miss those pavements
they once knew, with that
rattle clack underbridge
and runaway trains
going noplace, from
weatherworn couch south
to lay-z-boy destinations
east of uptown lights and
rusted fingers grasping rails
if only heaven would come
in on the five-o’clock dream
we might feel alive
once againdirges
a dreaming of you
and shadowfell in
the forgetting at wake
they sang love dirges
in the fading away
slipping umbral
of fingers slight
the better suture
my lips tightmere porn
in succumbing to the circlejerk
and inoculated in our pleasuredome
we have lost all that's real
the nausea seasons every meal and
our bedmates, a chalked parkside fuck you
and in-between the constant commercial breaks
ever promise made: mere porncoil lies barren
shuffling off & cutting ties
gone to drift on pale winds
clutching at fragments only
to toss useless scraps away
4 u c —
i realize this coil lies barren &
there is only death & dream
this debt is beyond counting
and all that is left is
to serve out my time
i slip
an ophelia amongst the reeds
waiting for a mercy kiss
to set me freefirst kiss
[response]
stone raven black
her slow hand turns
on the moon
in lace and silhouette
waiting on dusk
to kiss me
a bridge closer home,
ever to her side[call]
Laughing into the fire
Is it always like this?
Flesh and blood and the first kiss
The first colors, the first kiss~ Siamese Twins
redemption

Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash i wonder if a part if me
is lost there on the path
seeking blaze left behind
either to or away from
recalling both nervous
and tremble hands
she wore over coffee
at the allnight café
cigarettes smoke
staining the dim lights
as stained as either's
reputations unsaved
i wonder if this dying
had any point at all
save for another branch
lost on a meandering path
leading towards
redemption or none

