i have no steady hand on my head
– discombobulated, disfigured
my fingers are intact
but there is no way of knowing
what it would take to hatch;
thoughts sway quicker

i am – hypnotized
by the unearthly sense of clarity
appearing before my eyes
and just as the blade reaches my throat
just inches, almost a scratch
the spell dries and i’m alone —

smiling, content
even with the mess inside my head —

i’m hatching, anew
not just inside my head;

Rituals in the Dark

There are things I cannot help
But sleep with in the night;
Questions unanswered,
People unheard of.
I melt candles from paths the fires forged;
Oh they burn blue.

Rest my head on satin;
Threads of thorns wound my ears;
At last I can sleep soundly;
Blood trickling to my chest.
My eyes, they are revolting,
Climbing the Berlin Wall.

A lash of love drowned deep and dark
Against the hollow middle
Between the bedspread remnants mark
Water runs in between.
Soon I’ll hear hums echoing starkly,
Whispering as I leave my body.



it matters not the sirens

or the finger on the button

seeds of lazy Susan

aroused her perverted killers

a single interaction

collapsed her twists and vines

the pill and the possessor

dragged the symphonic sound

whereby all her teeth blacken

draped in rotten groves

fog cowers in the mirror light

becomes invincible in almost twilight

the pill and the possessor

her lips laced with crowns

it matters not the sirens

the finger saved her life