I'm living inside my shadows and trying to study the effects of darkness on my skin..... if only it was rashes, if only it was rus..
| Home | My Account | Directories |
Metaphor
Published on 2007-05-05 02:35:00
And yes, she went down dancing To the tunes of a fall. Enchanted.Upon the fingers of the lesser known kidsWhere her shadow glowed until the glory.Upon the fingers of the lesser known kidsStill too drenched within her tears. [whisper]And yes, “I never cry” she says.Children stare inside my window.Children stare outside my heart.Children stare, some mornings,At each other.They do.Stare.StairThe place she sat with ‘emTelling them stories. The unfinished folkloreThe moral not quite in place;
Surrender
Published on 2007-01-13 12:44:00
The pain surged from his sleepAs he fell out of itBreaking his night. A crackOn the center of his backA third hand grew.The third hand grewAs he spread his original handsTo pick his bloodstainsFrom the dusts and floors.The third hand grewPicking up invisible timesSprinkled onto the placesHe’d placed his back to.Sweat. As his fingers darkened,Moistened the flute holes. Loop-holes.He created the music of sweats.Sweats that dripped upon claustrophobic spacesFrom his first ten fingersAnd on a pass
Love Hymns - 2
Published on 2006-09-25 18:50:00
He Who FellHis fall was completeThe day he tumbled down the cocoonAnd found himself runningFor the door. He imaginedInside. Outside. Crossings.The possibilities of a door.He covered.He was led to a worldOf tangled bodies. Criss-crossed.Clinging onto the unknown otherLike abandoned copulations.Like the corpse of the childLeft somewhere in the wombLeft somewhere, in their heart, tooCriss-crossed.He was led into the worldOf a thousand childrenLying in all their tangled wombs.As cocoons.He, too, was