three eye'd indigo

we are cinematography bleeding

fire and without these pores on

purity’s palms we can finally bend

on one knee.  crying cement roads

lead nowhere and home is beneath

these painful pulled teeth.

through shattered glass windows

we saw each other faint into

faith and glory;

roads taken beneath

clouded majestic eyes;

three eye'd indigo. 

pulled throats

library chains perpetrating our

walled eyes and our hands are

still beautiful. we are always,

always, always

dancing along

beauty’s veined moments

of stillness and exhausted. loving

the white glare off their tears we

are forgotten jade seemingly broken.

so i break apart the white of the empty

spaces your hard thrifty fonts declared

war on; we are the same bleeding

throats. 

dark horse moon

dark horse standing alone but in a

together moon.  you are my broken

and i would never love you in whole

pieces ever after. short lived beautifully

decayed moments; you spoke petal

scents. and during the wood working

we disappear into ourselves but i am

alone and you are watching the slow

deer’s of designs fading grey.

bare-naked nothings but my

pores; it is a horizon cleavage

ready for you to melt in my me’s;

all of me’s. your peace eyes are my

meaningful word worlds.