second-last

it is just a matter of time. after all, we are bound by loose-lipped kisses, between the lies we tell each other through parted teeth and tongue. two soundless screams of yearning for more than the feeling of a passion since long-faded and betrayed. you don't know it yet but i haven't been faithful, i don't know it yet but neither have you. beneath the covers we hope to rediscover, to ignite the spark we should just ignore. each match lit a futile pitch against our dystopia of feel-good-deprecation a false embrace, we fall further into ecstasy, another crack on the glass floor we stand on. behind this soulless carnal pleasure lies an emptiness which you created and it was your fault. behind this soulless carnal prison lies an emptiness which i created and it was my fault. words are meaningless and interchangeable unlike flesh, lust was the drug that nobody warned us about a hallucination of whatever you want it to be as long as we both pretend we're still okay. i'm addicted to

i fall under the weight of the anchor of me to you(?) who am i to believe in fairy tales? when i can't even help but antici ... ... ... pate your every action as your words S L I T H E R into my conscious each thought an echo(echo)((echo))(((echo)))ed cliche or an margana encoded within confident yet pointless, it eludes understanding to the naked eye as pretentious as the executioner's remorse: Lovely darling, oh so mine I want you for myself each night All I ask for is your faith Remember, I won't run away.

A single pearl cloud. All that exists between us, And the flame-licked sun.

A single bullet can start a war. A careless byproduct of hateful spite, Since it takes two shots to even the score. In the shrill winds of battle the voices will soar, “He deserved to die, he started the fight!” A single bullet can start a war. Tensions rise on opposite shore, The spark of vengeance burns ominously bright, Since it takes two shots to even the score. In quick response, two becomes four. Four into eight, with no end in sight. A single bullet can start a war. The common lesson left forgotten at the door, A pair of wrongs cannot create a right, Since it takes two shots to even the score. “We cannot take this anymore!” With nothing gained, the flags wave white. A single bullet can start a war, Since it takes two shots to even the score.

In these memories I can still hear the sounds. Of little-black-lies from her lightly-glossed lips. For her serpent-tongue brought only deceit and ruin, Intricately woven as spider’s silk. My girl always seemed to understand when and which button to press to keep me from leaving. Along with when and which button to undress, A loosened blouse; the adhesive binding our failure together. I wish that we could have kept pretending. This girl was my light and I just but a moth, Flippantly fluttering from false facts to fake fictions. Myself, an addict, searching for another whiff, Of Loreal-scented dreams spun by her dark-raven locks. Like a spontaneous summer storm, soaked and unprepared; She left me. The world outside my memories is boring, dull and grey.

trees bend their heads, restless servants of the morning the cold winter gleams with crimson and white the ruby pearls on the snow, a trail of blood torn from the secret heart of winter embraced by the walls made of wood and ice summoned by the eternity rites a sacrifice made on a cracked stone he had to die so the sun could rise again

I mourn the day among pinnacles of the night heavy old grief - austere stroke of stone fingers I kiss the dawn in hushed silence of midnight sweet reminiscence of lilac mist above hazy fields I celebrate darkness in stark brilliance of the light pure and righteous - stillness of lifeless perfection

Frustration coded In a ballet of pollen Soiling skies and sand Rough grains on black wings Beating past a desert sea Folly on the wind

When I was in elementary school, my favorite teacher gave me a copy of Stellaluna for my birthday and made me a pair of construction paper wings. She knew bats were my favorite animals and I could hang upside-down the longest on the jungle gym during recess. I had other favorite animals, of course— more feminine ones: cats and snakes because I’ve always been predisposed to danger. It's the only proper way to rationalize my father’s need to rescue me from trying to pet a sleeping cottonmouth (and later, a pygmy rattler—a baby snake) at the park. Years later, the teacher in Wednesday’s Confirmation class pointed at me from across the meeting hall during our lesson on God’s grace and Original Sin (the one that warrants capital letters, sin of all sins) and decided, “You. You’re Eve.” And I, filled with all the righteous embarrassment of a good, Catholic fourteen-year-old girl, started to refuse because how dare I be singled out as the proxy of sin. I had prayed to God earlier that day

and when the winter came, I went home. I had seen the world, done what I had ventured out to do. found love, felt pain, suffered loss, known joy. and when the first snow fell, I was back home. I left behind the wide wide world. abandoned the life of adventure. bade farewell to my new friends, to my dear love. I went home.

Forest sunshine feel, Scents of trees and sounds of brooks: Healing, calm effects.

I remember your lips pressed hard against my palm, reminiscent of love letters sealed with a kiss (chapstick slick against my skin) "seeking heart lines," you used to call it love lines though my pulse was forever elsewhere, hunting something we couldn't find and you'd whisper your magic along the cool of my wrists, draw me close and breathe deep, smelling of damp moonlight I remember the dull ache of you, tangled in the night, tasting, tasting of lavender, of sweat salty you, now just a bruise pearlescent you loved me in phases, waxing and waning spoke of our relationship as one describes a door swinging loose of its hinges: open closed and open again--except there's no bell, no fanfare, nothing to signify your presence, your arrival always unexpected and I suppose I'm consumed by the idea of your smile, monologuing empty promises into the nape of my neck, your breath hot, teeth pricking against vulnerable softness and just like that, you are gone and I remember this feeling: what

like you, i dream of locked doors and long-burnt paths, stained glass blotting out the sun as god above, so iron below and i know ribbons have no real place, no purpose—save one to tie the bouquet tightly, just so congratulations, nature conquered into a little bundle of red and blue and— white dresses and garters to hide the fading pink of scars: evidence of when we threw ourselves into the dirt, tore madly at each other and something beyond much deeper still than once-broken nails not claws, now buffed and lacquered over some small thing more akin to the erratic beat of a heart near death or way that a snake opens and closes its mouth, crying, “oh, i am no longer a part of my self. put me back. put me back. put me back how i am supposed to be.” more muscle memory than anything else and maybe we are snake consciousness: all self, no body at least, no perfect body lest we become monsters dragons in miniature, all feathers and talons and bloodshot eyes from having too much to