Atelier Flight -

River Rise

Posted on August 6, 2018

A river of pain
flows from the fractures
of my crushed soul,
from my inner breaks,
pain pours within me,
a river that cuts
my weaknesses
into hard edges.
It drowns
a piece of me everyday.
Its rumble
plays in my head,
and vibrates under my skin.
Liquid battle drums.
I rise
as waterfalls
crash
in the red canyons
of my heart.
I’m ready.

River Ghost

Posted on August 6, 2018

I left my ghost in the river.

He haunts as he flows in the water.

His pain bubbles up, crashing,

and splashing

on the rocks of destiny

that continue to divide and direct him,

the roar from the impact

creates a calming cry.

Listen as my ghost brings you peace.

The river always flows,

no matter how guided by fate’s stability,

the river always whispers for you.

Immortality.

Salt

Posted on June 25, 2018

I see autumn brown hills

in your eyes,

under the rustling earth hues,

there is a vivacious green ready to spring,

like life curled in a seashell.

I take my hand and tilt your chin up,

looking down into your eyes,

I hear the ocean whispering

in your gaze,

waves crash whenever you blink,

and when you look away

the carcasses of sea creatures wash up

in the shore between us.

Now I spend my days

trying to bury

the dead beauty caught in our void.

Temptresses

Posted on June 25, 2018

Love does not extinguish,

it lights other candles,

the birth of new flames,

glow with faces from the past.

Red veiled memories

flirt with the future.

My fingers are burned,

trying to touch something

that isn’t there.

Time is a temptress

and I’m caught

trying to slip off

the dress of her illusion.

I’m caught

with lips on her body

trying to taste yesterdays

and hands trying to find tomorrows.

In the end,

I measure my life

and my death

by her.

I’ll leave

whispers tangled in her breath,

so when you make her moan,

you’ll hear my name.

An End to Start

Posted on June 25, 2018

Love lacerates the wind,

your breath bleeds in the breeze,

your whispers stain my dreams

with red.

I hear you,

even when you don’t speak.

Your screams

color the inside of my skull

a shade of burnt burgundy.

Blue and purple bruises

form from your teeth,

which I feel in the chilling wind

that scrapes my skin.

Against the yellow sun,

I am the multicolored church glass

to your soul that I worship,

and I am ready to break

to show all your true glory.

I don’t speak of blasphemy.

I speak of love.

Toys

Posted on June 25, 2018

You found

the red toy cabinet

of my heart,

you open the drawers

and play with my feelings like toys.

Some of them break,

scattered on the ground.

My happiness sprawls shattered.

You do not even put any back,

and you wonder why

somebody has to clean up after you,

but these toys

were made for your hands,

no matter how cruel.

Alive

Posted on May 23, 2018

I have a ghost trapped
in the walls of my eyelids.
At night,
when my eyes shut,
I hear him
pounding on my eyelids.
I hear him trying to escape
as he wonders
why I buried him there,
but when I close my eyes
and I see him,
I remember why.

I dream him,
he tells me stories,
and my tears
write
back to him
on those walls.

When the walls tremble
and I wake up,
my vision blurs and
I see him
everywhere.

This is how I kept him alive.

Love Does Not Retreat

Posted on May 20, 2018

Love does not retreat.
It continues on.
Bloodied and bruised.
Maimed and hobbling.
Love does not retreat.
It dies before it stops.
Love does not retreat.
Love marches forward.
Straight into
your darkest moments.
Love takes shelter
in your pain.
In the house of your agony,
Love sets a table
for one
and drinks a cup of coffee,
waiting,
and polishing its pistol.
You should knock on the door
of your insecurities,
walk into that dining room,
sit with Love,
pour yourself a coffee,
and play that game of Russian Roulette.
Just remember
there are four chambers
in a heart
and Love keeps all four
loaded.
You are going to lose,
but the greater loss
is not sitting at that table,
not having that cup of coffee,
and not sharing moments
before you hear that bullet shell
drop from your heart
and rattle on the floor
of your soul,
still hot,
burning,
like your last sin,
sparking
your house of agony
into flames,
turning it into
a raging red fire,
a layer of ashes landing on
the concrete of your blood.
Love walks away
in the sprawling sidewalks
inside your blood vessels.
That winning bullet
echoes
through the back alleys of your desires
where no crime can be seen.
Love never gets caught.
Love is a way of living
and a way of dying.
Love does not retreat.

Tasting Echoes

Posted on May 7, 2018

Give me your blue.

I see cities in your bruises,

the singing blue tongues of a nation

under your skin.

I see your song

percolating, beating

underneath.

I cut you with my teeth

and taste your sacred anthem,

I free those melodic cities,

the emancipation of your song,

echoing skyscrapers drip on my teeth,

and I have your lyrics in my mouth.

You have a new home

in the back of my throat.

I will always sing you.

Your city will grow

and rise in my voice,

you’ll get lost

in the streets of my words.

You’ll be home

amongst the lights

of my poetry,

glowing buildings

that flicker

with my heartbeat.

Give me your blue.

Broken Furniture

Posted on April 30, 2018

I used my teeth

to step into your lower lip,

left my white shoes at the door.

Made a home

in your kiss.

The words that you whispered

to me on those midnights

surround me,

cheap furniture.

I sit on the ragged couch

of your well wishes

and watch the TV

of your smile.

The antennas curve upward,

but I stay on the same channel

where I hear you laugh,

that laugh from your soul.

I always seem to fall

for that laugh.

I enjoy the reruns

of your happiness.

Archives