Wanderlust

5040275592_bd8bc44c74_z

She dreamed of a checkered night sky

Full of mystery and achievement,

Darkness and light.

“Give me wonder. Take me away

From these fragile lands,

Where there are unbelievable sights

And splendor,” she wished.

“For this I will give anything,

To be among the stars and gods.”

She lay her head down and slept,

Waking the next morning blind and deaf.

A man called to her:

“I gave you what you desired;

All that is beyond these corrupted lands

Is unforgiving darkness and silence.”

Cracked laughter filled her mind,

Devouring the memories of her

True love and family.

Her mind trickled out her ears.

“At the price of your freedom,

I gave you peace.”

The girl dreamed no longer,

For her every waking moment

Was a nightmare.

Bloodline

A pulsing stone pressed to her heart, the queen wept.
She was past the point of return, she was well aware,

But that didn’t make things any easier.

“I will return to you, my son, this beating heart of yours.”

Her cries filled the chamber as she looked into his empty eyes.

His face that of cold steel, she longed to see his metallic smile once more

But his lips remained frozen, a bout of everlasting contemplation.


The boy’s heart exhaled a blast of stale fog.

She could feel its weakening pulse, its longing for a soul to keep.

Though a soul she had not, for she had given it up years ago.

Given another chance, she’d offer her own heart and mind

If it meant saving her beloved automaton.

Featured image is from Flickr

My Home, the Hornet’s Nest

I am the gentle grace of a monarch butterfly spiraling the base of a great oak. While coarse familiarity lays in my wake, my antennae point me to the sun, to greater heights and beautiful discovery. Others flock to my presence, awestruck by my stunning, glimmering aura, but saddened as they realize they could never match such splendor. Though, as I reach the pinnacle to the pool of sweet sap, my wings wilt and the mystic charm fades. I am reborn.

I am the fury of a bellowing dragon. Surges of darkness I endured from the deceiver turn to fangs of sizzling embers and fallen elegance. A scaly tail crashes upon them, ruining the imaginary perfection that plagues the youthful minds. They shoot me with their flimsy arrows and cast their immobilizing incantations, yet I still reign. With a roar shattering every unwitting patriot, incapacitating the threads of civil carnage, I land atop an incandescent tower. I am indomitable.

I am the dark of the moon, my enveloping shade sought only in moments of true corruption. As swindlers worship the neon demon they produced, I rest perched above them all. Unfortunate souls scale the entirety of the pearl castle to beg me for forgiveness, to release them from the riot they so callously began. They cry for cleansing tears to wash away filthy ultimatums and neglectful judgment. And I cast them away, for they do not deserve to drink of the everlasting pool. So I continue to rest in the confines of my great oak, sipping of golden sap and broken hearts. I am supreme.

The Lost Harbor of Transiently Buoyant, Fresh Faces

15013815191_6f37337045_z

It was on the tip of my tongue, shipwrecked.

Sucking venom from an urchin spine had never been so gratifying.

The scaly beast tightened its hold on my empty veins,

Whispering tainted omens amid nauseating shrieks.

But when you asked, virulent gunge turned to sugar crystal.

The saccharinity brought me to my knees, blinded from your visage.

Ancient glaciers flowed like glimmering rivers from my soul as the beast retreated.

Like a loose pebble in a rising tide, the words escaped.

“I ate the baby, Tom.”




Artwork is from Flickr.

Dark Depths

316607197_49cd515550_o

They stay for hours,

Just watching.

Omniscient totems,

They stare into his soul.

Epithetical tentacles keep him close

To a herd of aerial seahorses,

His mind flooded with

Metallic curses and ebony phantoms.

He tries to turn away, but

The binds keep him trained.

His freedom is strangled

Under leather blasphemies.

A watchful jellyfish steals his aches

Of unrequited love and spoiled flesh.

His face boils and his body contorts.

He feels his throat close.

Coughing up webbed hooks and urchins,

The boy vomits, pulling against his restraints.

Nearby seagulls cry for his release,

Silenced in the octopus’ vicious grasp.

Far below, a chorus of dolphins sing,

“Jump! Jump! The deep calls for you.”

The group whinnies and sinks into darkness.

An eel nudges him forward.

“Go on,” it hisses. “This is your chance

To silence the cynics and evade past negligence.”

The boy was trembling at the edge of the springboard.

Ripples form at the water’s surface beneath.

There was no going back to the

Harassment, deceit, and callous abandonment.

He dreamed of a land of passion and acceptance,

And he had a golden ticket.

In a swift motion, the boy jumped,

Feeling his neck snap against a knotted cable.

He drowns in a tempestuous ocean of icy regret

Before he can reach the water.

Featured image found here.

Beautiful Life

He grew his hair out so you’d forget the ugly shape of his face
Sucked in his gut to hide the Bacardi pints from lonely nights past
A life drowning in vodka sweats and bad intentions, he swore he’d swim

Once your lover, the man stood before you a blue collar stranger
He rubbed his naked finger where once there was a ring
Daydreamed about the life that almost was

He smiled when he greeted you because you said you’d never forget his dimples
Sucked in his gut further so you’d see how much he had changed
But hopefulness turned to humiliation when he noticed your finger was bare no longer

Once your best friend, the man wept quietly in his room
Tears streaking the old ultrasound photo he had hidden in his wallet
Fractured, he turned to his past demons and welcomed them back with open arms

He drowned in the liquor so he’d forget your beautiful face
Slit his wrists to forget the baby girl you both had lost
As his blood slipped down the bathtub drain, so too did the pain and regret

Once your enemy, the man drifted away a lost soul
Forever dreaming about the life that almost was

Catalyst

8460588203_e66a2976df_z
Photo Credit: Thomas Hawk

We live in a society in which others’ opinion dictates love.
A man can pour his liquefied heart into a ceramic coffee mug, but have it poured it down the drain because it was offered to another man.
There is no remorse for the women who melted in each other’s arms as their house burned around them, because they were in love.

We live in a society that promotes personal satisfaction above all else.
Damned be the girl who fights against the man who insisted she wear a short skirt and a low-cut blouse for her interview.
Coupled with a blow job, she just might get the promotion she was promised.
But before that, he says she’s got to lose a few pounds.
Damned be the boy who confesses his youth instructor raped him.
What kind of a man allows himself to be raped?
He should be so ashamed.

We live in a society in which tradition trumps progression.
To hell with science.
To hell with minorities.
To hell with queers.
To hell with progress.
Fuck love, give me money; you can get a whore instead.
Five-dollars have never gotten you more.

But above all else
We can change society.
It may not be tomorrow or next year
Or without spilled blood and tears.

To hell with their opinions
To hell with their threatened personal satisfaction
To hell with tradition

Love will prevail.
And it all starts with you.

White Rabbit

43189468_71ae30168b_z
Photo Credit

One by one they march

Their swords drooled blood of the enemy

They won’t stop

It was time to claim the divine reward.

 

Even the seas of magnetic dynamite they pass in stride

A cynic’s illusion, He should have done better

The purest magic wilts against stolid steel, they assure each other

Their eyes glued to the glacier palace, they keep marching.

 

Though the crystalline keep was anything but.

With every inch closer, the tower transforms.

Dreamy beryl walls to tarnished silver

Glimmering treasures to bleached ash

 

The Ivory Prince rises from the levitating tomb

His gaze reverts the silver suits to searing ingot

The soldiers’ knees buckle, but still they march.

He won’t let them stop.

 

Roaring razor storms consume the East

Corrosive lizards creep from the crevasse in the West

The forked tongue of darkness flicks at their heels.

All that remains is the Prince and His keep.

 

One by one they march

Crippled under concrete crowns of thorns.

They’ll be royalty, too

Dreaming of crystalline treasures in the furnace.

Behold the Begrudger

870310160_c8bc4d8451_z
Photo credit: Tim Abbott

I envy the dark souls who beg for time,

The ones who spend them stoned out of their goddamned minds

Too beaten and bloody to face the next round of rapid purgatory.

 

I envy the saints who have no regrets.

They wave beautiful gifts of glory with eyes and mouths sewn blissfully shut,

Disoriented by the very light from which they claim liberation.

 

I envy the hopefuls who always stride forward,

Finding ambition amidst hordes of cynical fiends.

They’ll never descend.

 

I envy the boy who once had all the time in the world

A ghost of the past,

His light violently extinguished by the hand of the ones he loved.

 

I envy the miscreants who ask for forgiveness,

Scarring their knees on icy daggers as remorse consumes them.

The slain monster lays broken in its teardrop prison.

 

Though I envy not their revelation or rescue, their happiness or faith

But their willingness to live

Despite the spirit they lost mercilessly clawing for a way out.

 

I envy volition,

The gilded steps to tranquility,

For desire I have none.

Ostriches

6099815130_b275a12302_z
Photo Credit: Esra Erben

The king wears a crown like no other;

Gaudy ornaments conceal a cranium of illusion and treachery.

 

He points to the left, executing the peaceful lamb.

Signalling to the right, he leads his people into war.

 

But they see and hear nothing,

For their heads are buried in the sand

With the lifeless others who dared defy the chosen one.

 

A life without purpose, without freedom and dreams,

Welcome to the land of nightmares.

Code Blue

6181221384_2fda714feb_z
Photo credit: Jacirema Ferreira

Gone are the days of courteous suits and well-mannered sprouts.

The last drop of decency rests at the bottom of a bottle,

A shallow globe of love-drunk nobodies.

 

As the surviving guardians disappear

In comatose clouds of abandonment,

We hide beneath damp cloths.

 

Chivalry is dead.

Every Day Is Christmas

9255483015_f7361dc8f7_z
Photo credit: Andreas Sautner

Gray boxes are unwrapped amid

A hapless audience of frozen machines.

As we’re lost in avalanches of veiled dysphoria,

Powder snow stains steely sidewalks red.

 

The paparazzi flash their black flowers,

So we sport a grin and sit up straight.

It’s what we’re bred for – all we know.

But behind pink, plastic walls rests a frenzied terror.

 

You’ll read about it tomorrow, I’m sure.

For the Silence

 

14082714493_9f43bcf59b_z
Photo credit: Flickr

The way you look at me,

Hide yourself from me.

These euphoric dreams

Are all I need.

 

It’s not impossible

To cure this madness.

It courses through my veins,

But never lasts.

 

Now they’re calling me,

These hollow demons.

Please let them take me.

I’ll be their last.

 

The walls are closing in,

Going dark again.

It’s reaching for my hand;

Nightmare begin.