Insomnia

Some nights, you come real close. So close, you can taste the sleep, you can smell it. It smells like dripping saliva and warm cotton cloth.

In the dead of the night, the clock blinking at 2:43 a.m., you feel like a corpse dragged out from the grave. Immortality forced down a mortal.

You feel wrong.

When dreams die.

Today, you may have a purpose, a will to keep going, and it might vanish into thin air tomorrow, no warnings, no explanations.

I fear the day where I will not want to keep dreaming.

I fear the moment where I will stop and decide that it isn’t worth it.

I fear the empty-hearted, empty-eyed life I could live, if only I closed my eyes and slept.

Faith

Them, with their iron-clad blindness, leaping from the cliffs, coming back whole, euphoric. I saw it with my own eyes.

Us, with our memories, our scars, snickers and sneers.

Faith, this single, impenetrable divide, soaked in blood, brewed in death.

Paper doll

In the end, it is your heart that will guide the knife to your throat.

Vitesse

I run for pain, the excruciating burn of desire. I burn for the exquisite absence of thought.

Cynosure

A moment of both celebration and mourning, of the dreams you have lived and those futures not realized; of the masks of the past and the veil of the future; of the passing of yesterday, and the inevitability of tomorrow.

Bare

Take my hand, and I promise you art.

You will be the canvas of my prose.

I’ll dip my pen into the ink of your eyes, and engrave myself onto your heart.