Sparks
Our throats burn with cheap spirits as we breathe smoke into each other’s mouths and laugh becoming dragons for the night amass our treasure and watch it glimmer in the embers of our youth shadow spirits writhing on the walls as sparks fly free and rebellious for just a moment before they flicker into ash and etch cinder signatures into the fading carpet.
Outside the window
Outside the window, petals fall from roses and rot, rusted in the gutters while arterial grief courses hot through the streets streaking like mould through skin like the word ‘over.’ through the cracks in the pane slip charcoal mists, black fog filling the room like a clogged eye socket. I choke on receding exhausts, on the word ‘stay.’ fingernails down throat esophageal spasms, leaking hot and salty over lips, into skull. a rising scarlet tide in grey matter stale and paling like judas like treason skin swells internal pus yearning to melt into the bilious flood beyond marble into the torrents trickle towards the skyline fade into dusk.
Condensation
Transient twilight woods race towards the dark
hurtling in reverse.
curled inwards, I stare through my reflection,
retched up by a fleeting flash
which splits
the sky in half
streaking like wheels through night
like a slice through skin.
the whites of my eyes are immortalised
on a glass canvas of poet and poem
where raindrops chase time on the pane.
they trace the ember skyline
ache on the lines of my palms
until they seep like sweat inside.
my heart echoes with the rumbling walls
hums with the flickering streetlights
yearning for some unknown past
where memories flow like champagne
in homage at a wake
like a western wind through winter leaves,
my thoughts char and etch themselves
retch themselves
onto the white
my pen burns itself on the word ‘never’
until my skin is cremated in all the places
where you’ll touch me
you’ll touch me again
my fingers choke on liquid reality
engraving each beat of my heart
like an answerless shout into the wind
my breath comes in torrents
skin opens like the heavens
and I can no longer tell where
I end and the condensation begins.
Flight of the dragonfly 