5 0 5

i want to live —

in a burned book, a book suffered side by side with its identical siblings, caught aflame by those who tasted not ink but poison upon its pages —

debauchery, sin after sin after delectable sin and desire, all the things that paint temptation as the complex beast it is.  the nights are meant to be long, the weather is meant to be hot, and the drinks are meant to be utterly destroying, transformative elixirs that promise three different personalities in but one debasing evening —

me —

what i want —

is to dance with adventure and sleep with death, and to live my life by the pen of someone much more worldly than i —

la personnage principale

4 0 4

This is:

an experimental piece, a
way of guiding myself around a new place.

This is me waving my hands in the dark,
this is me wondering how I start. 

14 0 14

How to walk alone

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4 0 4


Prance about nonchalantly

Wearing short sleeves unaware of the scars on my wrist

I’ve grown used to them

They came to me whilst I was in pain 

And they stayed through my happiness, as a point of reference

As a reminder

Never again stoop this low

All I worry about is the answer I’ll give little Tommy when he asks

Daddy, where did you get those scars?

Maybe I’ll tell him I used to be a bear wrestler

He loves stories

3 0 3

Please forgive me,

I do not want you mad,

Offending you is never in my plans,

If I did something wrong,

I want to be able to right it,

So please give me the chance,

To again bring you a smile.

4 0 4




dirt and dead skin cells

coating the surface of

anything and everything,

easily wiped away

with the swipe of a finger.


why then,

can i not remove you?

why are you still stuck on me?

have i not tried wiping you away?

have i not spent hours

upon hours under scalding water

with blistering steam

trying to scrub the traces of you

off of my skin?

my skin is run raw,

washed of color; but not of you.

you are painted;

no, plastered;

no, you are cemented onto my flesh.

all that is left of you

is dirt and dead skin cells,



why can't i be wiped free of you?

8 0 8

Voice in the Wind

I wish I could talk with you right now.

Today was a really
And I want to tell you about it
so you can tell me,
Everything will be ok.
Be strong.
Remember who you are.

But your voice escapes me
in the wind;
and your face is something
I cannot see.

So I'll keep plugging along and hope that tomorrow
is a better day...

10 0 10

A Light is Written

stars and ink they cannot mix

why copies of copies fade

before they go extinct stars a

moment longer and they span

the hours in moments dead

a light is written

7 0 7

… … … …. ….

i kiss ten-

index to lips- when-


foot tall- quiet please- sunflowers

-where no one sees-

on the knees

3 0 3

Partial To Their Perfect Parts

stars (i