Straziante

watching the sails drift by like little bits of wrapping paper tumbling through the park on september breezes and wistful whispers like living life in black and white tightened chest and tears unshed the space between a forced grin and a tear the clouds splashed with fire before blushing bright then fading to grey like living life in reverse every moment goes by like a fond memory forgotten amongst the ripples of river and lake like i could choke on the waves while counting sails drowning under gold and pink skies like living life in rewind

     A single tear dangled from Miranda's chin. Sadness is a cup she could only fill so much until it spilled over. Miranda's deconstruction started long before this final purge. Her mind flooded with memories and regrets. Her mind, riddled with thoughts of family and friends, weighed heavy upon her soul. The serenity she once knew was replaced with dread and longing; she longed for relief.     Only hours before, Miranda was happy. Most people would not share this definition of happiness, but for Miranda, it was enough. She always felt great after fucking someone. She didn't care who it was that she slept with. This disregard for herself thr

plumes of molten desire afloat in the warm currents sea spray and envy his wings spread in defiance and arrogance the phoenix has a splendor rivaled only by his fixation strands of autumn velvet flowing along her sandy form pursed lips and proud shoulders her delicate fingers beckoning the fiery watcher the siren retains allure despite her obstinacy the flyer with his determined dance weary of the ocean's fury tempts danger and the singer fulfilling passion would bring his end extinguished on the rocks to ashes the siren with her lavish song longing for the sky and flames calls to the phoenix to carry her up even though s

looking up the wall of masonry at barbed wire dancing in the sunlight like mechanical roses these walls that hold me back no longer seem fire-hardened and set i could see through those bricks the way a child finally learns the truth about christmas no rusty tinge no grainy untruths only a ceramic mocking i would smell those roses when i climb and feel them sear my flesh with razor-edged petals blossoming from their wiry coils of determination these monoliths only serve a single purpose to stand between me and what i want most they will never keep me back i will climb and demolish and sunder my bouquet of mechanical roses are

i lay here listening to the rain washing over the cold like a thousand of my fingertips over the small of your back i breathe promises of a mild winter over lobe and lips and neck as the downpour flows through your hair and across your breast i will free you of your shell write you a love note from knee to navel and leave my signature as your body collapses beneath stylus and shallow breath you always did love the rain lithe as the torrents that bathe us lips ripple and wander hushing your feigned protests the deluge is steady now my whispers crash like thunder your irises flicker with lightning only now do we finally sl

when i concentrate hard enough i can smell the sand and taste the salt as it burns my eyes the hum of the shorebreak so soothing as a child now such a distant memory i remember a woman once wearing a yellow dress in perfect compliment so elegant and fragile she tip-toed along the shore careful not to leave footprints only now does the image baffle me why she would want to leave no reminder the bits of shells tread on by so many would they remember the woman or the dress i wonder i would remember the shells still intact that she thought intriguing enough to stop and pick up why she would ever need reminders of such a day that

when she starts talking i whisper to myself things i know she would want to hear and things that would make my mother proud i long to say them but my tongue turns to sap i can't find the words and she talks twice as slow and a whole octave too high her face blurs in the morning light and the colours of the sunrise turn to grey if she knew i couldn't see the sunrise she would sob on my behalf i can't tell her that the monotony of the silvery sky holds a beauty she could never know and that she is like that charcoal morning i love her how no one else could but i could never admit it when the tide washes our footprints away sh

i’ve got too much head noise tonight i’ve done so well to come along so far but tonight you’re in my head i’ve tried to read flip through my new paperback psychoses and gardening—to no avail i’ve exhausted my play lists every song stirs memories of what we lived and every song reminds me of how it all expired all that is left is stale reflection i struggle daily to keep from phoning you i want to hear your voice but not how well you are doing since you left me behind forced to catch up with a socialist society that demands i get over it i was good enough for so long sunday night you thought me

"I'm tired of this damn chair, Brandon, I really am," Marie grumbled as she tried to lift herself into the car. "I'm tired of this chair, this life, and this fucking rain."      "Marie, please, just try to relax. I don't get many days off. You wanted me to drive you to the beach, and this is the only opportunity I'm going to have for a while."      "You're right. I'm sorry, Brandon. I really am. It's just—"      "You don't have to explain." Brandon hurried over to the passenger side of the car and lifted Marie over the armrest and into the car seat. "I wish you would ask me for help, you know. We've been together long enough for you to

she drives me to the road to nowhere listening to songs about love, sadness, and brown-eyed girls she hates the drive but loves the company there is nowhere else to go we're all alone and that's okay (i'm just glad we're together) the road ends before it begins the barricade put up before we even decided to explore these things the asphalt beyond yearns for lonesome souls but we're stuck where we are-- in neutral then reverse i imagine we'll go back the way we came