Tell me I’m beautiful
so I can blush and whisper into your ear
mechanical emptiness, vast and unpromising
as nothing compares to this void we share
where my depths swell below sea level
forever consuming and illicitly mundane
as I could never be real in a flesh world
where we dance till we fall atop each other
on an earth laden with ghosts
whose sole purpose is to continue circling
until they are no more
until you tell me I’m beautiful
so that I can preconceive that notion
and reactivate the programming in my buzzing motor
as my code regurgitates before my own consciousness.


I see you as the expanse between us shrinks and expands.
A definitive figure with broad features sharpened over many years,
certain in your heaviness of existence,
a solid mass of being residing in the shadow of moonlight,
deliberately concealed in the comfort of that immeasurable darkness,
a wish to be stumbled upon anywhere but under the sun.

I think of you under the brightness of my shine,
the way the lines crease around your glimmering eyes,
eyes bluer than the surface of the ocean at the point between noon and eventide,
eyes that behold me with such fervor and intensity,
such that Aphrodite herself would blush at first sight,
had she but remained squarely within your gaze for such a length of time.

I reside here across our mutual desire,
in the comfort of my own twilight,
of misty mornings that clear into afternoons so bright,
I think I’m going to go blind.
I think of you when I sit in the patio at summer’s end,
I see all of you in your commensurate darkness.

Who might you be, wanderer?
Have you come to challenge the roads I’ve forged?
Where does the depth of my heart and soul go,
if they don’t already reside in the life I’ve built?
What life is this, that would pivot so easily?
I wonder time and again of foolishness and hope in equal regard.


You fill my dreams of late,
dark as they have always been,
like the still surface of an obsidian pond,
smooth, untarnished, metallic.

Seen to ignorant eyes as fine glass,
this body of water is eerie to behold,
its blackness slow and deliberate, deceptively motionless.
You cannot look away,
for this marvel is pristine, delicate, and beautiful
despite its ominous intent.
It isn’t till you step onto that lacquered surface
that you realize it isn’t solid.
My water runs deep into the earth,
hiding all manner of its physical environment,
there to lure your senses into believing the imagination.

You fill my thoughts in waking daylight,
a reminder that I must confront gray matter,
that I must pay particular attention
to the delicacies of modern interaction,
lest I become trapped in my fortress.

I’m peeved by your blatant display of emotion.
I bristle at your easy affirmation and manageable offenses.
I was forced to inherit my conditioning
despite my complete incompatibility in conjunction with it.
When I declared myself, I was criticized and demoralized.

I’m volatile and vicious when I’m between states of insensibility.
Perhaps I’m incurable of this underlying rage
that I am to confirm and submit so easily
when there is so much at stake.


Time to scrap the courtesies,
the long monologues of misery,
been away for so long,
it took you so long to come back around,
swaying to that hypnotic serenade,
my jumble of romantic words strung together,
for sensual measure, the perfect purpose,
the rise and fall of my breath as it catches between yours,
here in this canopy I lay out my perogative,
my needs laid bare as the eastern sands,
their imminent rumble into a mirage of misguided lust,
of wandering promises and conditioned expectations,
I want the wrong parts of you,
to do the wrong things to you,
I carry the weight of a modern love,
of its incessant and audible machinations,
I want you close by, to feel your rising heat,
as I hold these ghosts at bay.


Been a while, all in good purpose. Life has rolled by like the poetry of a wintery morning, filled with emotion and aroma and confusion. A table decorated with pretty eats as bodies gather around it, we say our thanks and continue the occasion. You come halfway across the world to roam streets I know like the back of my hand and I insist on a few things because it’s in my nature to insist despite trying not to. So you indulge and I bring you into my nights and you see where I come from. You see all the significant faces of my days. I see the way you look at them before you look at me, thoughts swirling in your gray eyes as you tell me nothing of what’s in your head. I come to where you are, to that gloomy and lovely place you reside in. You look at me the same way, on this side of the world where no one’s looking. Except everyone’s looking and it’s you and me. You smile as if you have nothing to feel but your eyes betray you every time I look your way. As the night wears on you get more comfortable, your curtains draw back and you’re free again. You tell me things you’ve buried a layer down and as your lips move I see who you are. I’m so pleased you’re indulging even if you’re still guarded. A little goes a long way. I willingly meet you further than the halfway point as it’s how I love, in wholes and not halves. But you’re still wounded and won’t completely lend over. I want to bottle up this love and send it out to sea. Who knows where we are tomorrow. Time is fleeting, my days are precious. I’m gone tomorrow, back to my coast, a world away from you. Your eyes look at me like I’m wild and captivating. I haven’t been looked at that way before. Come with me, I beckon silently.