Thursday, February 16, 2012


It hurts to breathe
The viper’s pit has returned
And I feel the venom slowly release through my veins.
I’m tired of the pity parties, the self doubt, the self incrimination...
The pain.
Yet, there they sit, like fodder off which the wild beast living inside me feeds.
Or a child’s favorite toy, which my brain latches onto and won’t release.
To melt inside your warmth...
To truly know your warmth, for that matter
Is a place of longing where my aching heart resides.
This emptiness, slowly sucking the marrow from my bones.
Too weak to walk among the broken shells of our honesty;
Honesty - ripping the life out of me.

Monday, February 13, 2012


How do we put out a house we’ve set on fire,
When we’re standing in the middle of the flames?
Sometimes guilty of holding the propellant?
Many would say the rational would flee to safety, never looking back...
But here we lie, intoxicated by the fumes, going into depth about the horror we see around us.
How do you feel about that shade of violet?
I think I saw it in a Bunsen burner, during my childhood.
Is the heat beginning to burn your skin?
It feels like the sunburn I got when I was 10. I cried then.
The smoke is beginning to fill my lungs.
You should have stayed lower to the ground, like me.

Observation, Contemplation, Deliberation, Theorization, and finally...
What color should we paint the living room next?
The flames are encompassing us.
The weight of the house is falling around us, turning to ash.
It’s funny. Never once did we think to reach for a pail of water.