I jailed my inner shadow
inside my pen.
That dark beast howls
as I make him bleed.
I click my pen
and cut him,
he pours from the slices,
click, click, cut, cut,
I am mad. I am mad.
I got my fingertips stained with ink.
I love this murder weapon.
Now, he rises from these pages
and crawls inside your head.
Treat him well.
He deserves a home.
Maybe you can be his new cage.

The Empty

Those sweet moments are gone.
They fell from my life like raindrops.
My last words quiver in each one.
Those sweet moments are gone,
but they have watered your fields.
Roses bloom like echoing smiles
and this empty cloud
rolls like a shell in the sandy sky
being taken by the atmospheric waves
of the next life.
I will await you
in the next world
so you can curl up
in the embrace of my emptiness.
Those sweet moments are gone.


I felt
all four seasons with you.
Spring in your touch,
summer on your lips,
fall in your embrace,
winter on your tongue.
Don’t leave me
in a state of blankness.
I feel spring in your touch,
desires flourish within me,
leaves tingle as they sprout,
roses bloom
and I place them on your mouth
a bouquet from my lips,
thorns from my teeth.
I feel summer on your lips,
the euphoria of blue skies
as I swallow the sun
from your lower lip
and feel it radiate down
my throat and chest,
the light shines against my heart.
I want the euphoria of summer skies within me,
I need daybreak
to peel back my inner darkness like an orange
and let my suffocating heart
I feel fall in your embrace,
I feel the coming of the holidays when I hold you,
my hands on your waist,
like my favorite warm drink.
I feel my sorrow dry up within me,
bruising, and then turning shades of yellow
like an autumn leaf, hoping it eventually
cracks the same way.
There are parts of me that I need you to kill,
to shatter.
I feel winter on your tongue,
sending glaciers of memories
to sail in my veins,
a coldness to numb my madness.
I feel the snow of your kiss
fall to the back of my throat,
I surrender naked
to the blizzard of your taste.
Without you,
it is just blankness,
I am stuck in a clock,
with seconds making their way over me like ants,
the hands
like two black tongues,
singing the words I could never say,
lulling me to sleep,
set me free from this blankness,
walk over here with your black dress.
I felt
all four seasons with you.


Let me put
a new song
in your mouth.
Let me give
you a fresh anthem,
as you taste my melody
and my manhood.
In the dark,
my song will drip
on your lips
like stars
on the skies of your kiss.
I pickpocket your gloom
and unfold the moon,
you’re looking up
and in the light
you find yourself,
keep singing my nightingale
and I will keep bringing you the night.

Ashes to Ashes

The acid of loneliness
is corroding
the container of my love.
It’s leaking now
down my throat,
burning it’s way to my heart
it’s destroying everything,
but that’s fine,
sometimes wildfires
are needed for a new forest to grow,
I am a cemetery of charred bones
of the old wild creatures
that I let through my gates to roam.
I’m now ready for you.
The embers
chew holes
in my soul
like fireflies.
In the burnt hollowness,
your love nests.
Let me be the city
of your rebirth.
Identify yourself with me,
a citizen of my heart.
In a dim room,
I will have you pledging allegiance
until the sacred sun blooms
in the trembling sky hinging on your hips,
warm petals soaked with nectar.
When our time is done,
we will set our love ablaze,
and spend one more night
next to it,
as sweet and temporary,
as a campfire.
In the smoke,
we will see
black and white photographs
of our past.
As we inhale the images
to fuse them with our blood,
they leave our skeletons smoked.
Even when they bury me,
our story will be embedded in my bones.


Who tricked you
into believing that
you are not magic?
like cards,
pulling aces
when our eyes connect.
You always know
the cards I try to hide.
My eyes whisper to you
even when I tell them to be silent.
Their loyalty does not rest with me.
When I am crushed
by the fangs
of darkness.
You put me
back together
with your tongue.
Rolling splintered shards
of me in your mouth,
removing my infectious pain
from melancholy’s unforgiving mauling.
You set your head
on my chest
and my heart beats stronger.
We tend to talkĀ better when there is an active listener.
Who tricked you
into believing that
you are not magic?
When life
turns my self-confidence into a quiet flag
draped lifeless down my post,
like the losing corpse in a game of hangman,
you sing a storm,
and make me rage
in my brave and pride.
My identity’s colors screaming
like predatory birds
circling the dead,
the last memory
my enemies will have.
I am battle ready because of you.
Who tricked you
into believing that
you are not magic?
You turned a boy into a man
and, trust me, that spell
does not always work.