Sunday, August 18, 2013

Mes pleurs que ta voix parle.

Come to me, 
sweet fear. 
I taste the sugar 
of last night's 
wine from your lustful mouth.
Oh, how I savour that 
memory of you, 
dressed in nothing 
but my watchful eye, 
as I bathe in my own 
validated self and 
personal promise. 
What a pleasure and a suffering
is the flame of an encounter, 
and how I love the burn.

The Beauty that You're After

All I want is 
open fields,
open fields, 
open fields.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013


This voice is someone
else's motivation. I will start
reading into the potential
of the miracle that is 
silence. I will give an ear to
the momentum of the present, 
keeping one ear on the door 
of hope. You know the one, 
that barrier that sparkles, numbing 
all your fears by the power of 
distraction, giving you ideas 
that ruin your life. Is it time 
that you wait on? Because I've 
never recieved a payment for my