words steeped in
history and blood
fall from your
lips and cross
your tongue as
if they are
the holiest hymn

colder than iron
and hotter than
a flame.

blackhairedmetalhead said: Wow. I'm speechless

Thank you for your follow!

-Also, looking forward to seeing more of your work! 

therosesign said: Not a question, but...wow your writing is so rich with meaning and emotion. <3

Hi! :) Thank you for your kind words!  

Your writing is also pretty amazing! I love your recent poem on language, and now unnecessary it is despite our dependence on it. I enjoy reading that sort of stuff and it was very beautifully written!



If I wrote with a pen
Of a newly born child
Would it be nothingness
Carved into words?

Would the heart understand
Being the mother of all?
Needing no language
Other than love
To make a seed


My Algebra of Dreams: moon prints


you left your footprints on the moon
for poetry archaeologists
to dig up the traces
of your soul

you knew
they’d fly
to gather

the sunflower
of your poems

all your
unfinished questions
left sleeping in my darkness

i feel so alone
when your traced energies
are scattered along…



formaldehyde smile 
to bridge a chasm
hung with gritted teeth
words of filigree 
riveted by a desire
to fix before collapse
an act of desperate salvage 
by a fretful heart 
though the gorge rises
you step across the span -
hope is a construct
plucked from a chasm 



vectors from a bulb’s filament
punch holes in your shadow
you’re a crucible spilling
from a singularity

the angels pull you up
by your hair

you sleepwalk with a knife
and I never wake you

Medea In The End


I don’t know why
I thought it would be different
for you.
I don’t know why
I thought you would escape
the suffering surrender
of no more.
I thought that bonny part
of you
would live forever,
all wild hair
and sparking passion.
In the end
we are all Medea.
The innocence we birth
in dreaming
must die.
All Greece hates the barbarian.