Equal

Bite me where it hurts the most.
Into the skin, between the ghosts.

Bite me when I'm drunk enough,
I'll bite you back with equal love.

Heart

The heart is
less fluid,
more viscous.
less vermilion,
more scarlet.
less tidy,
more guarded
than you understand.

The heart is
less confined,
more confused.
less spacious,
more ventilated.
less permanent,
more fleeting
than you admit.

Charmer

I never tire of your ways with me,
as compelling as a half read story,
and how always one whole session of love
ends with my heart turning into
crumbled plastic sheets lying on the kitchen floor.

cheap thrills

I bet it smells like smoke
inside your funny hat,

                                                       random guy with a twisted tail,
                                                       I'm glad we never made it.

Gaps

Glue some fiction because

paper crumbles easily

The heart pushed against the wall

and re-christened every Saturday night

is that which falls apart blindly

in the epilogue of crimson mournings

Between the pages, fingertips meddle with

gaps of air and human emotions. 

Urge

Let me touch your green, when you cry under the sun.

I’ve waited for the leaves to wear out of our wall

while centuries have gathered under your eyes.

Your wholeness makes my freedom some vacuum, 

bowls of blood, undisturbed. Mere ripples.

Will you let me intrude?  My safe thumb can run up your

shoulders, into your chest of fate, and wisdom.               

I’ll whisper to you in your sand, when your summer sleeps.

Romance

Sometimes you are blinded by the colour of my veins

because there is no shame in my nudity, it takes your vision

for a planetary trip. Painting one another in body and mind,

our noises and vision so solitary, so retrospective, so reactive,

it blew our covers into powder, our pillows bombarded with

exploding heads and our tails counting on tightly clasped afternoons.

The walls know our odour of mixed existence and the roof

has stopped our harmony from reaching the streets.

A cluster of notes that drips from each vibration is an experience

that inspires life, the birth of a belief.

Slow

My vision was never restricted by a frame.

I've travelled minds and I've covered layers, but

there is no place like the centre of my earth,

very moist with your existence. Each day I

circle it, dancing to the decreasing radius.

The seasons get me drunk, in the viciousness

of our cycle, a myth of lost love.

We've thrown our clocks away, walked through the same dream.

I drink shadows, in the slow poison of

our hidden era, but my glasses never complain

beyond my sensibilities.