another round

here we go, another round in the
boxing ring. you against me this time
goody for you, I think you may have won.
how dull, hum drum, just another woman
who loves you. set the doll aside, its
weeping eyes can put out a fire before
it combusts. I heard energy cannot be
destroyed, only transformed, and this
woman, too, like the fruit flies who pop
persistently in and out of existence from
nowhere. off to find another painful body
to experience, hopefully one a bit better
suited this time, or at least with some very fine
armour. one with white white teeth and some
plump, pink lips that you’d happily bleed
to be swallowed by.
after all you’re that kind of a guy.
I think that last punch wasn’t
even thrown by your good side.
save the worst for last, like someone
else I used to know. strike low blow
after low blow. hey, here’s some space
for you. I have miles of it, you couldn’t
find me with the Hubble telescope.
how’s this? can you feel me again?
can you taste this waning love on your
tongue like yesterday’s leftovers?
pack it up and don’t forget to toss
it in the trash after the fact cause
you never meant to bring it home in
the first place.


listen in
for the pin dropping
I’ve been
so long here dwelling,
measuring love in teaspoons,
guzzling empty glasses,
savouring flavours barely
lingering on my tongue.

The thorns are waning,
but I can still feel the bruises
swelling in my chest
your lies like litter 
my pulse, rushing through
me like a greyhound on
the track and
I’m always
to ask,
is this life?

or just the taste of your fleeting heartbeat?


spent an evening
awkwardly on the
side of the road
waiting in the snow
for a bus to come
and take me somewhere
I didn’t realise
I needed to go

a place which finally
reminds me of home


inevitable combustion
my being breaking down and
like a decorative glass
spilling its wine on the empty masses.
the particles in the thread which so aptly
hold together this battered skin
busting at the seams,
ready to shatter planets.

I can feel

the heat boiling,
and I can see its
invading fires creeping upward
to overthrow trying lids.

a torch for the unknown carried and
released whimsically by puffs of smoke
always asking me
if they can yet have the freedom
to consume this teetering heart
with their savage flames.

one ring of smoke
to answer no,
because in truth I suspect that
they already have…

and I fear having to
wake up each morning
asking myself
if I’m even breathing.


image from caridae at
image from caridae at

She speaks
in darling riddles.
Contradiction is spilled on
her windswept sleeve,
mystery fits her
dainty hand
like a tailored glove.
Those eyes,
clad so dangerously
beneath puffs of
seductive smoke,
bait our curiosity.

We tried to understand,
we became
invaders to her
razzle-dazzle imagination
but were chased out.
Sparks of her vexation
hot on our desperate heels
evoking exhilarating threats
that only succeed to
extend further invitation.

We try to sink
our audacious teeth
into everything that is her,
everything that might be her,
and we weep
because she
can’t be bothered
to bite us back.

Waist-deep now in
a pool of our own
frustrated tears,
despite our
fervent efforts
she yet remains,
properly enigmatic.