Lost in body,
love’s chains tie us down.
Lost in flesh,
bone-chilling frosts blanket the world.
Lost in desire,
sins are strangled, begging for one more breath.
Lost in love,
crawling on our bellies, we claw our way to the light.
Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Lost in body,
love’s chains tie us down.
Lost in flesh,
bone-chilling frosts blanket the world.
Lost in desire,
sins are strangled, begging for one more breath.
Lost in love,
crawling on our bellies, we claw our way to the light.
Man is no more than
shadows
upon the surface,
washed away
with the slightest
tilt of Earth,
false prophets
flashing by
one by one
by one.
Without danger,
Man becomes
just man,
weak,
frightened,
dangling from the edge.
His power reverts
to pimples
and insecurities,
leaving emptiness
for all those who
loved Him.
No prince to the rescue.
Only shadows.
I am pieces
of many things –
metal
and heat,
flesh
and dandelions,
a potion of breath
and diversity.
In grief I swelter,
sorting through lies,
confusing evil with disguise.
Parental love
imprisons, protects.
I am released
only in death,
holding tight to the silk
from your hair.
My only truth.
Talk to me, farm boy.
Tell me of your intentions.
Will you love the girl?
Will you scar her,
playing at love only to entice?
Talk to me of your secrets,
parts less shiny.
Is the trust on your face
merely tarnish?
The girl has been lied to before.
Tell me, do you dance?
Can you carry conversation?
Will you hold the girl
in times of need?
Talk to me.
This is no ordinary girl.
Her powers lie
beyond your imagine.
Lead her to worries,
she will drink.
The girl is fruitful,
her heartland rich.
Will you stick around
for the harvest?
Talk to me.
Farm boy, tell me,
are you true?
Sultry tones summon,
defining me, clawed
and bleeding with passion,
two of the same deceit.
The lines between beast
and savior blur.
And you ask,
Do you love me?
And I say,
I’ve never loved anything else.
Pain moves in
where love once lived.
Love packs a duffle
and drives away
in a blue van.
Music pricked his ears,
pouring straight
into his soul,
transforming him
into a creature,
wind in his fur,
flies in his teeth,
lifted from love’s arms,
its primitive heart
barely beating.
By candlelight
I carve out a life alone,
convinced
that I’m unlovable.
Insecurities, like bees,
pollinate fear
into brilliant blossoms.
I fall hard.
I fall deep,
red and black
and bleeding.
Lifted into flight,
beauty
frightened by love.
She wears scars on the inside,
dragon inn
dragon out,
drops her dress to forget, but
instead remembers,
diving deep into crimson sheets.
He wears teal, the color of his eyes,
telling tales
trick or treat,
wraps her hair around him like a cape,
escaping easily into morning coffee.
She never looked for him in daylight,
the sun
so hurts his eyes,
burning still, but can’t admit it,
her rarest jewels in heaps at his feet.
Intimacy in the night,
gentle,
like butterfly to breast,
brutality
scratching its way to the surface
only later.
One
where there were once
many, I take comfort
in the night, in the
creatures who
play there. Room most
familiar looms uncomfortably
large. Words form not
in my mouth, but
rush out the sides.
Phone rings a lost love’s
breath, no voice,
only darkness. Music
plays, something pink,
as bandits sift through my
memories. Parasol of past lives,
broken at my feet. For the cry
of one small creature,
I crash through the glass
to rest in the arms
of the familiar.