(Source: foxxinthewind, via deitygaze)

(Source: film-only, via deitygaze)

Train Station

Dressed in blue for a broken jaw,
these limbs were meant for bruises
and these ribs were built to shatter.
I taste the rust in my mouth
well before the notions of strangers
erupt through these carriages.
I drive these splintered nails
into my palms to save them the trouble.
These legs will not prove a challenge
for wasted energies, with such anxious,
aching knees I will surely not fly too far.
I can feel it now - the tearing of flesh
as I raise my arms to save this pitiful face,
while I sit still and stare through the window.
I can see it now - this tangled body of mine
holding onto whatever hasn’t been stolen,
laying still by the stairs of an empty train station.

Pond Water

Scattering coins down a well,
with wishes for warmer weather.
The prayers escape me now;
their reasons were just as murky
as the waters that now smother
my lungs. All covered up in winter
clothes that don’t quite fit properly.
Fevered conversations with the ceiling,
notes played off under tongue,
cold sweats staining dressings
so neatly arranged. The heat burns
and subsides, the ash keeps building
under bone; floating through my veins.
I would speak up through muddied cords,
If only they weren’t bound by duress
And the frailty of apologies.
What will not come true has never been so
faithfully indecipherable.
Pebbles could replace these words,
No difference could be defined.
l flinch at the sound of broken surfaces.



Dreaming beside the moon,
the nights covet our senses -
beauty in the aroma of dying
cherry blossoms, laced along skin.
We drift with the floral phantoms,
lusting for what we cannot know,
memories of the sky flow between
our tired, unrequited forms.

Merciless ache, holding broken stems
together with trembling desperation;
these jagged edges do not connect
with what they have always adored.
Fractured puzzles, missing pieces -
landscapes incomplete.
Artwork never formed.
The seasons fall in jealousy
for what they will never hold.

Dancing beneath stars caressed with
sanguine hues; Embraced like ghosts—
haunted with sombre recollections
of kisses missed and lips that list
litanies of the saints; we; whose feathers
fractured till we were naught but sinners,
and how we adorned the veil
of crimson clouds to obscure the sins
we stained upon each other’s skin—
Scars etched onto the sordid scrolls
of damnation

These roses will forever bloom scarlet
yet the brittle stems and thorns will shatter
at your tender touch—
our fingertips bleed endless upon these
ivory keys while the world is oblivious to
our torment; captivated by a dual soul
splayed upon a horizon of majestic melody..
serenading the dead to stir from their
porphyry prison..
for one last lament of true love.

An honour and a surprise to be asked to do this… italic= slowsway  regular=me.



Garden Views

A weariness haunts
her voice; a blur of city
lights and distant smoke.


A train crashed through your coastside home,
diesel fumes rose against the shards
of windows shattered. You were
a pebble beneath a mountain,
timid under shadow. Your walls
held safety against all natures, exposed
under light of the morning’s first sun.
No longer would they shelter, comfort
smothered in smog clouds suffocating.

A train took you away from your lost, broken bones,
misted airs rose against the sepia
of windows sunburned. The tracks
echoed throughout your head, crumbling
rocks formed your heart a bed.
What once felt like disaster was covered
by distance and denial; worn-out warmth
of an old, torn-up blanket. Farewell
Formations were drawn closed over eyes.