twinge

your name ricochets
off my tongue,
bounces from
ancient brick to brick
down the
crumbling maze
in my heart.

crackling projections of
laughter play and
skip with the shadows
as my mind gives in
and i fade into you.

the dull ache of
missing you
daily re-sharpens against my soul,
tearing me to ribbons.

blueprints of
future plans
curl on themselves
even after we unroll them.

thoughts of you
invade my bloodstream
through a pinhole.
traveling fast,
re-circulating until
the last breath
is shoved from my
lungs.

scattered flocks
of flashbacks crowd
the cobbled streets of
my daydreams,
and a smile tugs at
the corners of my lips.

and then i remember.

the walls shift and i don't know where i am.
the reel trips and falls, tumbling.
the twinge becomes unbearable and i am ripped to shreds.
the paper contorts and everything becomes uncertain.
the nostalgia screeches and flies into the dark.

stitches

i found a square of fabric.
the corners were damaged--
the border had been removed.
somebody did not like it.

i found a spool of lace.
its intricate pattern
embraced the ripped patch
with such tenderness.

i found a strand of thread.
nobody had used it before.
it seemed the perfect length
to mend this tattered rag.

i found a needle.
sharp, new.
sure to pierce the fabric
in all the right places.

i threaded the needle.
i could not sew
one straight stitch.
the needle
lost its gleam--
my unclean hands
tarnished it.

the needle stabbed
through my calloused fingertips.
ruby drops beaded.
pooling over shallow ridges,
they slipped from my grasp
and steadily crept along the
unstable fibers.

crimson corrupted
the branching tendrils
of pure white,
hissing lies into
the core.
the droplets,
they seeped through and soaked me.

carmine traced
the complex chain
of delicate lace,
its doublespeak curling through
the labyrinth.
the droplets,
they seeped through and soaked me.

i am a square of fabric.
my corners are damaged--
my border has been removed.
somebody did not love me.

Good Morning #5

Good morning, fair minstrel.
may your day be joyous and bright;
filled with laughter and song.

Good Morning #4

Smoldering clouds hide a
Flaming sun wishing to
Shine its rays upon your
Cheerful countenance.

spectral

blue.
coursing swiftly,
eager to oxidize,
to stain.
pumping, waving
goodbye to
warmth.
tinting shivering
tears.

red.
scribbling furiously
across pigments
until only a
technicolor rage
is branded on
the surface.
slowly sinking,
spreading.

yellow.
splashing blindly
over reality.
seen now are
sickening flashes
of trite imagery.
scenes of garbled
silence
flood the senses.

orange.
balancing precariously
on the lid of
a third eye.
ready to spill over
until all the
gutfeelings
have withered
to nothing.

green.
dividing infinitely
minute problems
that have no value.
all that remains
is a cluster of
odd numbers
and
a bushel of envy.

Good Morning #3

As your toes reluctantly
Shuffle across the bare floor,
Think of the morning dew
And rejoice.

Good Morning #2

Hark: an early riser-
a lark, methinks-
beckons to the treetops,
twittering a "good morning"
melody.

Good Morning #1

Ho there!: A morning star awakes from peaceful slumber,
stretching its five points to the far corners of the sky.

Maybe You Should Read It

doubt is in a vial
close to my chest.
swinging, cold
against my skin
with every plodding
step.

you were singing
somebody else's song
when you were
singing for me.

burnt pages.
rotting leaves.
volumes of
what you should know
staggered,
crammed onto dusty shelves.

Lethologica

Admit One

And the lobby felt strange with
Nobody sharing a swatch of
Upholstered discomfort.
Nobody to lazily collapse on
After sitting for far too long.

And the seat felt like summer.
Laughter muffled in her fibers,
Sweet perspiration from long days
Embedded into
Her core.

And the air felt like your touch.
Soft breaths of cold erasing
My confusion.
Quieting all the jumbled thoughts.

And the credits felt like the sea,
Rolling on and on.

And I felt caught in the moment.
With nobody next to me.

And nothing felt right.

And everything felt wrong.