i can see
the veins that carve rivers
through the white plains
of your eyes
occassionally, they pulse with anger
and all i remember is a conversation
how empty a feeling to tell yourself
"i told you so"
my eyes are not the only pair i gaze into
as i make a choice
or pretend to
an inverse spectrum of unclarity
emerges from the cascades of your look
rush into me
frozen in icy tide
and as the condensation gathers
from the heat of my
want
and your water
my breath
on the glass
our blood creates a common mirror

i ran my fingers through your hair
hot like fire
or was it a dream?
a scene i drew with a sweaty fingertip
in the fog on the glass
that seperates
you from me
me from you
she
spits fire as it flows from the crown
who understands self-loathing
better than the self-sabotaging?


being close to mother
provides green closure
not to me
i can feel my heart beat
it is a coronary earth
that our plasma feeds
i bleed into the dirt
my life producing pigment for the red roses
whose petals
will be sprinkled on the bed
we bleed for boys
inspiration for a kiss
pressed onto the petals of a human bud

too long
i've gone
with staring at arteries
not knowing why they course
and longing to
but there's a reason
why fire burns
and my blood recycles
heart to fingertips
because originality is dead
our stories have all been told
you are not new
the red cells that appear at a wound
i would rather bleed
for with pain comes understanding
and our blood creates a common mirror