"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Monday, December 17, 2012

What It Is To Be Human.

In my weakest hour
I am human.
I take
what I want
I burn
what I need
I deconstruct
my own body
because I can
because I am human
because I have
an exceptionally
dark heart.
And in my weakest hour
I am not burdened
by my heart
or the marks
it leaves
in my wake.
I am served well
by the snarling chains
of my own

Saturday, December 8, 2012


In my head my thoughts
are like helpless rabbits
hunted by the red fox--
frozen like cinder blocks,
my fear--
I cannot command it.