Release--poem

I remember diving into you
the comfort of your darkness, your frozen embrace
your endless abyss
where I got lost
in a coma where time and lucidity snuck away

I wasn’t happy, but hands of tragedy hadn’t completed the
task that your smothering took on to bring me to
this

once reason parted my lips to allow
your draught to assault my tongue
I tasted my addiction

My heart pounded again,
panic flailed my limbs to search for the surface
to cut the mass of tangible obsession
and win back my breath

I tasted your poison

I tasted your power,
that I made more potent with every single
dream, nightmare, thought, memory, word, glance, heartbeat, breath—

I remember diving into you
and feeling comfort in the cold
for you’d stock me like this for always
and keep me inside ‘til death do us part—
though, as the diver, I guess I’m the swan

I remember diving into you
out of choice, and all the while knowing
a masochist would blush from the emotional
whirlpool you preserve me in

I remember diving into you

I remember drowning

until I remembered it’s not safe to dive
when you can’t see the bottom in an unreliable ocean
so I built a bridge, crossed over

I remember looking back at you

Pull-poem

Pull

North and South live up to their titles
they freeze and burn when I deviate from
the core of my rational, average centre—
my bridge above the pool of bubbling anger,
below a sky of blinding apathy

Me and You lived up to our titles
making an “us” from two skeptical
“I’s”

We stood on this bridge,
the experiment of stability
standing on feet that once ran but could
halt
with a hint of affection from
you

Time’s an enemy I can’t ignore
wearing on my balance—
raining on my vision
so I can’t tell the future from the
maelstrom below

Time won’t let me die,
live,
or breathe in this Wonderland
where you wrote me into existence
in this tragedy with no
ending

Time won’t intervene
while my heart pounds and slows,
stealing blood from my imagination
weighing my feet to concrete below

North pulls me to frigid heavens,
South to smouldering saunas
where sins burn free from the flesh that wanted
gravity to pull you through me
until nothing’s left
but air’s memory that love once was
here

I can’t feel my feet
my heart won’t beat
the storm’s calming to a stubborn shower
washing away the heat from below
washing away impending frostbite
Then Time wakes me from my trance

Lust and Love live up to their titles
you touch my hand, usurping my chemistry—
sensation lying to my sensibility

And I could touch your face tonight,
if I only knew how to break Time’s sentence
if I only knew how I could let myself free
from the shackles of a nightmare
that never let me walk beside you
but threw me to the mercy of the ravaging magnetism
of ruthless, warring
poles.

Good Intentions

You need to know

all that’s in my heart

while you’re collecting what’s left

of your own,

re-arranging the pieces to find who remains

after hurricane Me

tore through.

You need to know

I’m fully empty

and starving for what wasn’t.

You need to know

it won’t last long—like all loyal dwellers of our village

at the base of Mount Tomorrow,

we’ll rebuild our organs, without

splitting an Atom.

You need to know

so my mind can set free

the dove that was shot with my mistake.

You need to know

I’m not trying to be selfish,

and I know trying at all buries selfless

success.

You need to know

I thought it was true,

that it could have been and Life called our

bluff.

You need to know

the peace will come

after this affective tempest halts.

You need to know

I’m doubting myself,

for I hear an echo of these words

from all four walls.

I'm not angry--just disappointed.

Ok, that's a lie. I'm both. But "it" is partly my fault. Quelle grande surprise!

I need to vent. It's begging to come out like the aliens in well...Alien. I didn't feel that my friends and sister should be burdened with my stupid anecdotes, so, Cyberworld: here you go!

For once, could someone please just grow some kahonas (sp?...do I really care about the spelling?) and be upfront/honest/truthful/brave/thoughtful/see Thesaurus for more? I was ... notified/reminded recently that I really mean nothing to someone who meant something to me. Even though said person deserves no more of my attention than a fruit fly. I kid not. In Logicverse, said person has a negative score in being tolerable and compatible with me. In Feelingverse, whenever said person used to walk in a room, my heart would stop. (Well, there's a sign right there.... he's more likely to kill me than to make me happy....I digress.)

I realized that after 3-4 years of torture and emotional abuse by the brat, that I need to stop letting him into my life to fester like a virus. Yet, I saw him recently. I told myself and was convinced that my feelings had vanished. When ...."interacting".... with him, I did manage to separate my feelings. We were just having fun, and I knew that. I knew that I'm not his dreamgirl, but I thought I had at least a little bit of respect cut out for me from his moldy cake of selective respect.

However, the crash cart needed to be brought in once I found out just how little I mean to him.

I shouldn't care.

But I do, so deal with it. Yes, I'm angry.

Yes, I'll get over it.

There are others like him--not with the same history, but with similar tendencies. Sweet words, amazing chemistry...I know deep down that all the he's probably just want something to wink about, but be straight about it, you know? Just say that's all you want. Enough with the top hat and fog and mirrors. I'm a big girl, I CAN handle the truth (contrary to what Jack Nicholson might think!).

Enough is enough! (I say that to the universe and to myself.)

I banish all of you cowards to suck on your own poison and spit it out once it becomes too strong to bear--once it becomes a memory that haunts you and humbles you. Humility, for crying out loud. Get some.

I'm not unhappy, but I'm also not a brick wall, or made of steel. I'm a strong girl, and really don't have it bad at all, but let's face it: I care about people, and I care about how people affect my life. So sue me. I've been used enough, and done enough to myself, so all I'm asking of the great thing called the universe/God/Buddha/Yoda/whoever/whatever, is for a breath of fresh air--for peace.

NOT someone who cares about me and I don't feel the same way about,
NOT someone I adore and who thinks me nothing more than another girl in another city on another weekend filled with cigarettes and booze.

"Patience, young one." (I know.)
My frustrations are just building and eating away at my composure at night when I'm supposed to be dreaming. *sigh*

With all of these stupid little nothings piling up, there better be something fantabulous on the way. Someone "upstairs" is teaching me a lesson, I think.

For once, can I please be the frigging teacher? Or is this all supposed to help me build my résumé?

Clarity-poem

I need to see it all
The first glance of the glittering, luring face
distracting from the darkness
lurking inside
that hidden place you yearn to explore but
lampposts pull you away

I need to see it all
so I can claim I’ve missed nothing
and find you watching me all along
while I absorb the night,
absorb the sun,
burning my mind with memories
of missing you

I need to see it all
your danger and your armour—
you’re my labyrinth, and my gravity,
my bridge of cognitive dissonance—
you give less than you take then carry me across
dropping me off then siphoning my life
from my lusting veins

I need to see it all
before it’s too late
before the palpable ecstasy of finding you, waiting for me on the precipice
evolves into a numb
imagination

will you jump? carry me again? beckon me? run?

I need to see the possibilities
before my heart bursts out of my chest
or my mind implodes from road-runner what ifs

I need to see it all
for my dreams are insatiated,
unsaturated with memories,
but drowning in fables of how you reached out—
I saw the effort—

I need to see it all
to ease the pain of blood droning through my limbs,
urging me on through the darkness of your pathways
feeling my way, feeling your walls closing in—
clear my eyes of the frigid dew settling in after a night spent with you—
I need to see—to reach you,
I need to see

Demon--poem

It’s coming from the inside,
needing a release, clawing at my skin
to let it all out-
burning the tissue to weaken
my armour

It tickles as it gropes
for a way out into the light
or the dark—I doubt it really cares
so I laugh in spite of myself
in spite of the logic that should be
alarmed

It’s into me—
and it has me wishing I was into you
like this thing inside of me
taking over my sanity
taking over my vision

So all I see is you and scenes of us
and what we could be
when the lights go out, and day has fled
to let the moon usurp the sky
shed its glow upon my deeds
desperately waiting to unfold

It wants to spread like a disease,
Bursting from my core to enter yours—
but wait, this isn’t a nauseous process—
though it sways me like vertigo with a pleasant,
drunken wave

Is this my demon
waiting to possess my reason,
my flesh and yours?

Will I fall, condemned in the pit
of endless tunnel vision of lust
in love’s clothing?

Or could this Force give me wings,
fly me to sanctioned bliss
so I can meet the sun, and never burn,
never lose my flight despite the pull of
sin’s gravity on my tired frame?

Is the answer worth knowing?
For knowledge can strip what dignity,
shelter, and armour I have left—

keep me in the dark,
keep me in the light,
I don’t really care
as long as it’s inside,
and willing to knock logic down
to let sweet anticipation rise
and commence your release.

The Game-poem

Your move;
Your immobility.
Your silence.
My abyss.
Our precipice on our table with all the cards
laid out.

The hourglass is gone-
my fingernails scream, raw from the sands
that should have flowed from me to you-
instead, they fled far and wide-

I think I got some in my eye,
‘cause there’s a puddle on the table
and it won’t dry.

I gave you time
though it was only a second,
it was more than sufficient
‘cause I’ve heard the parable
that life’s full of moments,
and moments make life
worth living-

living, loving, silence, puddles-
I can’t connect the four.

our life moments are trapped in the continuum,
the infuriating snakes-and-ladders board
in the game of you and I-
I want to watch the corners curl
in the flames of forgetting memories
while I play my turn,
sit in fury,
waiting for your chip to be bet,
to slide, or better yet to climb-
just to move!

so this moment can die

and you’ll live as You
without the I

Civil War-poem

my stomach feels what my heart should:
the aftermath of
my insides revolutioning unendingly-
Us argues that I’m good at heart,
Them argues my heart’s a mess-
We can’t agree so I’m left
feeling sick
over what I did to
You and Me

my gut that aches is the same that
persuaded me to halt whatever
waltz we were in the middle of
so on a break, I tried to drown my
confused brain in hops and poison,
trying to kill Our memory
but I resurrected it tenfold,
in the form of this dizzying disease

my eyes are pinned to the screen of
Me and You
mercilessly replaying the scene
when I cut the cord and demanded
these feet
to move
away

my eyes sting, my core burns, my feet tire, my brain is nauseous-
no wait: I’m confusing mySelf with my Parts-
my body’s at war
with the soul it imprisons
striving for solace, for peace

but will the silence, the stillness be the End
of a Battle
or the War?

Intervention

Alcoholics get help. Sex addicts get help. Drug addicts get help. Hell, even people with foot fetishes get help. There's an intervention for everything--but what about help for an addiction to bad relationship habits? Or better yet, why isn't there an intervention for addictions to other people? When you're trying to quit smoking, there are patches, programs, and therapy groups. When you're trying to quit someone, there are bottles of alcohol, tubs of ice cream, and the friends who are willing to listen to your babbling about "what's-his/her-name," but you can drink too much booze, eat too much ice cream, and drive your friends away and yourself insane. One addiction can feed another, and you could end up an alcoholic, fat, and friendless.


But what's the tried-and-true cure for person-addiction--or is there even one single antidote?


We all know the dangers of most addictions in life. Some make you sick, some can kill you--all throw your life off-course and in line for a rollercoaster ride through emotional hell. Even the word "addiction" rallies up a nasty stigma equivalent to having some embarrassing tick or smiling non-stop with spinach in your teeth on a first date with someone you're crazy about. Addictions please you when you're using, but even over-use can get tiring, and we're all familiar with the after-effects of most addictions. You end up with some sort of hangover that makes you want to jump off a building or knock yourself out just so you can sleep.

Do you get over one addiction by replacing it with another? For example, I've become slightly addicted to exercise. It helps curb other cravings and bad habits. What about for other addictions? Does one replace cocaine with alcohol? Sex with food?

If you don't get to or don't want to get to the replacement stage, sometimes you try willpower. Yet, even if you have the best intentions not to "use" and do a decent job for a little while, your substance makes a surprise appearance that takes you back into your initial infatuation with it. At least mine has.

"It" went something like this. I met him, his friend got him to ask for my number with much coaxing despite the fact that he was very interested. He was insecure, as he kept asking me if I was into him (when, let's face it, it was clear I was), and wouldn't really make any moves until he was pseudo-sure. Without his friend there, I have a feeling we wouldn't have talked. He told me he'd call, he'd take me out. It sounded nice, but I had that gut feeling that kept taunting me with "yeah, right!" I still hoped...

He didn't call. He texted instead. Incessantly. We had full-on text conversations for a few days, and he even suggested we hang out (*gasp*). That gut feeling was still there, but she was being silenced and pounded out by "I hope, I hope, I hope." I got excited.

Then he became silent.

I pseudo-gave up...
...then went out to where we met, and texted him with some coy test along the lines of "guess where I am/where the hell have you been?" type of thing. He came. We flirted and hung out. He hit on someone else while I was in the washroom. I got mad, blew him off, he got mad, he apologized profusely and followed me around until I forgave him. We spent the rest of our night out together with my other friends, and didn't part ways until we all did, after 5 am. He texted me a few times saying he was surprised to see me, that it was good to see me, that he wants to see me and what do I think. I told him I had fun, and when he asked me what I thought about seeing each other again, I replied with "I hope."

Instead, more silence ensued.

Déja Vu? F*** yes.

One drunken night, I texted him, playfully reprimanding him for not calling and being a confusing bundle of attractive walking seduction. I didn't use anything close to those words, but finished some petty texts with saying that I like him, but I want a guy who calls. He texted me back until that last one. The next day, feeling guilty for other things and displacing my guilt on stupidly texting him, I apologized to him for my drunken shenanigans. He said it was totally ok, and proceeded to ask me what I was up to. Instead of asking me to do something, we kept texting for a bit then bam. His damn silence. I sent one more text later on as a test, then gave up. Silence equals uninterested, right?

Well, he had the nerve to text me a few days later, and I haven't responded.

I'm not stupid, or pathetic, although the fact that my heart actually beat faster when I saw his number pop up made me blush almost as badly as when he kissed me or looked at me with that longing look that rendered me (almost) helpless. Logically speaking, on paper, he's not what I'm looking for. In reality, the warmth he exudes and the vertigo he inflicts on me tempted me to actually become stupid and call him and forgive him for being a coward. I can almost still feel the ghost of his arms repeatedly pulling me in and covering me, protecting me from the world. When he let himself open up, he was protective and possessive in a sweet way. It puzzles me that a rational human being could consider sacrificing her own dignity, intelligence for that rush of feeling that tingled through every extremity and fogged up my vision. Then again, why do smokers slowly kill themselves, cocaine addicts screw their brain over, and alcoholics plunge into a dark abyss that usually drags their loved ones down with them? Obviously, this isn't nearly as serious or devastating. I'm not making light of serious addictions.

Yet, here're some harrowing points of thought:
-what if I had called him?
-what if he's a complete jerk?
-what if I had gotten myself into a mess that would have been near-impossible to get out of?
-what if he tries to snag my attention again sometime soon?

What if is too dangerous to ask. Even more dangerous than the possibilities of what they refer to. And, he's a coward. He might have his reasons. I have hope that maybe he has some good explanation for not wanting to call a strong, smart, seemingly attractive young woman who was obviously into him.

One more "what if" for consideration:
-what if this is my sick cycle that desperately needs to break? I know the credentials necessary for relative happiness in a relationship, but my body seems to respond differently than my mind too often. I spiral into dilemmas like this, and my head becomes a mess of logic versus want.

So what should I have done? There will always be other possibilities, others who like me and who I like. Do I wait and/or jump on one of those possibilities? Is that the cure? Is it right to replace my addiction with a distraction that may in turn become a new addiction? Can you even heal from the burn marks of past addictions by such replacement? Or do you need to focus on your problem and find some proverbial scar-preventing treatment before moving onto the next possibility?

I could tell you what I decided to do. But it won't make it right or wrong. It just puts it in black and white. And it doesn't remove the underlying questions behind this blabfest.

What do you think?

Nicotine--poem

You burned me on your way out
scalding my veil of weakening flesh
permeating through to the parts of me that once were strong
yet all that’s strong now is this feeling I can’t ignore

I can’t see the fire
but its heat is blinding me to the truth and lies
my line of sight is your canvas for burn holes,
my world is your sauna for smoke

I inhaled and you filled my lungs with
poisoned breath
I’ve been choking on lust-struck air
unable to exhale you from my closing throat
you’re sticking to my memories and tarring my heart
with cravings for another drag

then another

of your lips to mine, sucking in sensation
seeing the trace of your fingertips against my skin
I can still taste you once you’ve gone out
once you’ve crumbled and I throw you away

I can’t get you out of my body
I can’t get you out of my dreams
I crave you when I wake in the morning—
even more when I’m writhing in my sea of bed-sheets
nauseous from your absence
and from taking you in the first place

I threw you out with my empties
of what I tried to take instead
nothing’s working,
I need to breathe you in
or find another who can replace this aggravating
disgusting
and delicious
habit
you’ve forced me to embrace
while your arms wrapped ‘round me
and I breathed you in

give me someone stronger
so I can let you go

The Danger of Silence - poem

I can’t stand it

I need the music, my thrumming heart
melding with the rhythms drumming out the beat
of this dizzying anthem of the night
the ode to the evenings when the sun sets
in your eyes and the dark pool lingers, inviting me in for a
dive

if I swim for a hefty measure of intertwined moments,
in the enticement of your irises
your blood will usurp my audio space
flowing from veins to my vision, my vibrating sight
enveloping me in your bittersweet, velvety melody
-instead

I can’t stand it

your silence is maddening
it transforms the pool into Rorschach’s questions,
no longer the kaleidoscope of dangerous, oratory beauty
but blotches of fluorescent buzzing
and buzzing
inside my throbbing head

I can’t stand it

or stand at all when my balance is ravaged
by uneven tunes and eras of nothingness
where memories of your symphonies accompanied by
masterpieces of impressionist melodies
haunt the canvases of this room
where I lie, shiver, forcing words from my mouthpiece
and they land, on my visual field
as the inkblots of a lunatic

what do you see
in the waters swirling here
in the eyes of a damaged instrument?

I can’t stand it
so I don’t

without you dancing and singing your beauty into
my line of sight
without you painting my world with the kind of music that permits time to
move.

Choices--poem

I remember their song
cicadas humming for hours
crescendo of nature then
diminuendo
as Night and Dawn collide
the symphony of spectacles
explodes before my eyes
stinging my mind leaving a mark and
the pain still burns
fire simmering beneath the surface
I can taste it yet
my world lacks flavour
vibrancy fading
my energy wilts into
the cemetery of dearly
departed dreams and
beliefs I remember dusk as
it ravaged the peace
saturating my skin
I used to bask in it
the Ikon of
my Nights painted there by angels from
ancient moments
distant
displaced
I hear whispers
knowing it’s of winged guardians
sometimes wondering if it’s something else…
a sinister force, perhaps
then I realize
my worst enemy is
the girl staring back at me
I see myself reaching out
this timeI should take it-
grasp the hand that has
dealt mistakes
sins
yet still some good
feel the song this time
hear no evil in the cicadas humming
just be still and
listen
be still and
live

Bottom Line--poem

When it comes down to it
it doesn’t really matter anymore.
I can’t find you on
call displays, or hiding in
my pocket, of the
sweaters that kept me warm or
the shirts
you left behind.
I can’t feel your touch
on my shoulders at
the end of
every day.
Do you know-are you aware that
every blink of an eye I
hope will spring you to life?
Do you know that
when it rains, I miss that warmth-
when your arms were my blanket?
When all is said and done,
it doesn’t really matter.
Morning comes again,
night swallows the sun whole.
Dreams still haunt,
life burning eternal,
with you,
no more.

Turn Around -- poem

It’s no one’s fault, but
of course it’s so
God damned easy to
point my finger
(at aforementioned Deities or)
at whoever is poor enough, to
be close to me.

Try not to punish, condemn Me for
asking you this favour.
You’ve always loved me, I know it, I feel it-and,
I can believe you know
I adore you.

When did that point sweep into
my life?
That pinnacle, marking
the Truest Loss, as if
life turned me ‘round,
my back to the Sun.

I remain burning, blind, to Love and
all Nostalgia, belonging to you-
me-to
us, Long Ago-
instead I linger,
facing frigid Night.

When did it change? so that
instead of fear, I bask in
the darkness, welcoming its mysteries?

When will I return to face
the golden possibility of
lightness in Love-from
a new Spring?

Would you offer some sign?
Slip into this mortal plane,
defying laws and bounds, to
show me you’re near?

Although I’m not afraid of
darkness and the moon’s frosted rays,
I do fear the emptiness; the
winter of endless, mortal Time
without you,
spinning me ‘round so I bask in
the Sunshine so I sleep soundly in
my night and can freely
give my heart to
a shining, deserving

Other.

My Rose -- poem

Petals are calling
tracing fingertips over
the surface at
the same time
touching clouds and
velvet nights in
waiting
it heaves then
shrinks
wanting attention or
someone
to dive onto its
luxury
going gently
caressing the air
knowing not to disturb
what supple particles
hold this together
giving warmth and
unbelievable comfort
what a dwelling to behold
to dream in
cushioning my hopes and
kindling my burn
so softly
powerful
gravity changes
horizontal pulling until
I fall being held,
kept and
lose myself in
silky arms

Altered Replay--poem

After a while it fades to grey-
like raining ash after
the explosion-
How cliché does that sound,
but who really gives a Damn?

If I told you I loved you,
I’d be lying.
Oh, I’m sorry:
did that hurt?
(But the truest lie is that
I never cared.)

Even if I’ve fooled Myself by saying
you’ll call tomorrow or that
you’ll smile
every time you see my face.
You still don’t have the right to
smother my Love all over the pavement
with each instance that
you had to be drunk
to hand me any
semblance of affection.

Spinelessness has run its course
and tired its useSo toughen up, or walk out-
(like you do so well
every day, every time, in every way).

You’re still the same.

You’ve become the Ghost, haunting
my what if’s,
trickling through my every pleasure and
torment-

Teach me how to transform to
mist-
for you will never
transubstantiate
my fantasies of you and I
into delicious reality.

Teach me how to disappear like
you’ve mastered-
time and day and month, year-
enough of the rambling.

Teach me how to
sever all emotion or
replay your forte and
just leave.

dry--poem

You don’t give a damn-
not sure if I did either, but
what’s certain is this:
I wanted what I remembered of
how you felt.

We barely knew the simple but
critical things.
I can recall how you kiss but
your favourite song, colour, story-
remains a blur.

I’ve been walking through life,
with my back to the wall,
my head turned to watch the past and
hope-
but now I’m facing
tomorrow head-on, curious
to hear what steps fall behind me.

The burning question, kindling
my consciousness, is whether I’ll encounter
a following or if
my sights will pull me forward,
donning me Pursuer.

Fatigue of the mind, body, and
Passion,
summons temporary apathy
within me.
All I have in this moment of
acceptance is the drive to
move on with
the clichés of yesterday,
mistakes from the Night, and
the ability to face
the burning desert of
a New Day.

mess -- poem

take some
give some
return, rebound
craving emotion
then loathing the swoon
on bended kneep
leading
genuflecting
stand next
worship
recoil
arms to the sky
scream
demand an answer
feeling the weight
as Atlas
holding the sphere
bend again
backwards
break
forever moving
buckling
feeling the iron
prepare
yearning for numbness
after that rush
adrenaline
after the feeling
die a little
try to live
still quivering
chaotic logic
peaceful insanity
brewing the mind
fading
fading
rushing forward
fade once more
what am i talking about
i wasn't even aware
of my heart
beating still

Induced Familiarity--poem

Have we met before?

I can see the outline of
your strong frame
from the corner of
my eager eye.
I turn to face you,
like a tango spin;
locking my gaze onto
yours.

I can feel your arms
exploring my territory,
finding their place of Rest
‘round my shoulders.
I burrow my own
within the warmth
of your hoodie,
so they find your waist,
and your chest invites my cheek to
stay a while.

I can hear your Heart beating
like the Rhythm of
a sultry tune.
In my mind I review trying
to separate Memories from dreams of
you.

Have we met before?

I can barely stand,
reeling from sweet
Captivation.
Your enticing eyes pierce me and
keep me transfixed,
while I run my fingers through
your dark tresses.

I can feel the pulse approach
a new Flavour.
Unsure of whose heart is pounding out this
intensely unpredictable
rock ‘n roll Spell.

I can tell you’re evaluating-
what dare I do next in this
dance?
You know me well, and predict
my answer before I even
begin.

The slightest incline in the corner of
your Lips sparks
the blaze.
I can hardly control
my breath and reason.

Your lips hold sway over
each reflex.
As the kiss deepens,
I can no longer tell if I’m standing or winding
in seas of warmth or sheets of silk.

Does it matter, really?

You whisper the reply into my ear,
forcing my blood to
every Extremity.

I knew it then, but now
I can not remember.

Have we met before?

Say yes so
the bridge will fall,
I’ll embrace reality and meld it
with bliss-

Haven’t we met?
Say yes so I have
to dream
no more.

Possession --poem

You’ve got me wanting you-
with each turn of phrase,
each sweet thing you say
you’ve got me believing that
you actually care.

Yet the second you scooped
all the substance of
your promises
(and lies)
from my core of faith
in Something Better,
you had me searching
in a chamber of Emptiness
and regrets.

It’s mind-numbing, Love
that Inaction screams at levels that
deafen my heartbeat to a
hollow tone.

You don’t have to act on much other than
your indifference and
you have me Bound-
scraping the walls of
your forsaken Kingdom-
and you have me
wanting you-
morphed into a Memory-
Even more.