untitled 04.20

every drop of air is my home
so why can't i breathe
drowning in light
i am a moth waiting for Easter
has she come, i wonder
i have eaten a museum
and it's dripping down my mouth as i stare at your fairy toes
where are they now
whose picture is it
stocked in the back of my mind like a book
amusing but not interesting

once i was caught in the fire
and i cannot fly since then
i was caught in the fire when i believed in water
now, tired and scorched,
i reckon it's my eyes, they're too glassy
i should probably resurrect somewhere

would you turn the lights off, please, I'm drowning
and there's no safe path to follow in the dark
my home is too thick to be cut
with my crumbling wings
funny that
i think someone waved at me
and ran away

there'a a glimpse of red and i've hit my head on the wall
trying to fly through myself like it's Easter
has she come
i should probably shake the past off my dusty hair
brace my solitude and drink it
summer is fading and so must I

You are the first song of the morning dawning blankness upon my chest
as the city spills its dreary grin -

the ghost of Love lurks by the door
and her hopeful stare is frightening

There’s a smell of art as I lift the lid
but this shrine is a curse of a gift
for my pain is as sharp as its keys
reminding my hands of sirens

‘Mother dear, I cannot work the loom’
since all the colours I weave bear the same eyes
since my skin will be forever torn and sewn
to cover your poor son’s wings

Summer is fading and so am I;
there is peace enough but my heart is a stallion

Oh innocence, can you hear the sobbing walls?
The blinding sound of sunset blessed the hammers with her haunting presence
Purity is a buzz detuned and fragile;
her arms are now too small for my agony

(the ghost of Love lurks by the door -
I stare at the ceiling
with a mouth full of bees)

Mother of pearl

I am an oyster.
I float in the tears
of the whale mothers
and of all homesick sailors.
I feast on crumbles
And understand them.
I live off the lashes of the sea
so she and I can weep together.

I am an oyster.
I have thousands of hearts beating on every shore,
my guts are made of sunlight
and green serenity.
I greet fishes
sing with corals
and watch the seals in their winter ballet.
I turn my wounds into jewels,
for I will have to wear them.

I am an oyster and you eat me alive
and now I squirm and twist and yell just to stay aware
before the sea claims me as her child
before I cease to hear the bubbling shores
at least, you say, I have
a pretty shell.