Category Archives: Prose

Looming Velocipede Know as Sister-yphus


Full of doubt


Waiting with out.

The tears comfort themselves now

Because I’m always such a fool

For how words form

In that beautiful mouth.

I’m sodden now with

All the things you can’t with.

Even showers neglect to clean me

Before dusk falls on my thoughts.

My heart sings believe

My smart mind knows better

No matter how much your touch

Brings life back to my shatteredness.


Why rolling heavy losses up mountain tops,

As I wait for years of time to finally catch up.

Even I was unaware the torture

Would eventually turn on itself.

Nothing left of this field of sweet

smells, black top, and hopeless tires rolling as intended wanting to miss

the boulder set to meet me at sunset with only a man running the

opposite direction instead of

towards the helplessly lost.

Brace for impact.

Or not.


Villt hross að fara

This years best season,

Ending on such sour notes,

Giving way to good harvest,

With a lesson-remote.

Curled lying lips corrupt,

Undue, unjust,

Never makes for loving so much.

Faded memory still passing like thinning fog

Only at the bottom of mountain tops on Tuesdays-

Leaving room for another’s endless hope I collect

Like the sun’s rays beaming trust.

So sorry for that luck,

I’m bundling up:

Emotional blackmail,

Piled on the porch untouched.

And I am returning to sender,

A forked tongue and angled tail benders.

All the stagnant,


Three soul mates a year sort of romantic love.

Along with the hateful glances of a barely mortal man’s drunken red anger

Based somewhere in the what I have’s-

What you should entail,

And the what happened not’s.

I leave it world’s away

Trying to control so much while-

Fabricating nebulous notions

for ornamental pickles.

Dangling  for the sake of art’s sake.

Emotional courtship only,

Floating the bragard’s specter boat-

Like it’s a hold you up crutch keeping hope afloat.

So it’s my serendipitous road from here on out,

To the golden ocher leaves of real adoration

And undying crimson devotional lust-

Hidden In his soft kiss and rough handed soul

Plucking strings like Santana,

Healing the troves of


And just his burning blue eyes,

Making diamonds out of my scars,

Between the planks on ocean pier moonlit walks.




Fragment 9.03

The solid ground,

Replenishes with every element.

Changes only under the momentary

Permanent scorching of rebirth in the form

Of ash fructifying barren landscapes.

Forrest fires should be more

Adequately chosen

By visitors that pass,

As they inattentively drop

Their selfish burning wants

Upon it’s shell.

It is guaranteed

To outlast it all-

For the remainder of the centuries.

Like the haggardly cowboy,

Illusively seeking

His own-




Few short seasons of destiny.

Dressed in black,

Prepared for every

Ceremonial dedication

To the insignificant

Breath gasped by the living,

As they are ushered back into

The cold black silken sheets

Of life’s only certain guarantee.


Your Deconstructed Devastation Destiny

love_is_at_your_feet__pink__by_aureliens-d98hjzkHumbly I was laying my love at your feet

But you used such incredulous claws

To examine every piece

Your eyes  became black and jaded

By only what you wanted to see of me


Any good that could be

Into monstrous ghosts

You’ve already seen

Claiming your hands were made of healing

Instead of the sharp weapons


eradicate everything

Prodding every caring breath I could exhale before

I could say a thing

Instead of holding a fragile

Scared, sacred treasure

Like the heart of another

Isn’t fragility

In a fleshly



Giving you a gift

Of eternity

Since you want to shatter

My last remaining pieces

Like a scientist


On the snafued being


I’ll recover all the remains

bind them in gold ribbon

And return to a shelf

Until softer hands

Want to pick them up

From the scattered,


Desolation you created

In front of me.

Words: M(e.)

Humble offering: AurelienS




Front Porch Hints of Absolute

imageThe nameless,

meowed stirringly

As I exited.

Not just the house,

but the summer’s life whims of others.

This time I sigh,

I have grown weary

of a life filled with seasonal beings.

Swallowing this truth,

like a pill that sticks in the throat

I begin to inspect  the current state

The wounds from fighting he always has

The current weight loss

New spots that now adorn his

Pristine white coat,

As though this short passing

Solstice had stained us both.

Yet, we both seemed more content

Than the year prior.

Uncertain really,

That 100 days should truly hold such a vast amount of change.

Yet, it had.

So I lovingly greet him with a smiling honesty I myself had yet to know.

Gently, caressing his favorite places,

I grin and say,

‘You’re early,

Or right on time cursed familiar

I never really know.’

As I exit the porch,

Close the car door,

And only make less time

For the important things.




Penumbra Boulevard


Wrapping my favorite,

Gray and black rose cloak

Around my low hanging shoulders,

I hit he door way to another world again.

Heavy head,

Too heavy to understand.

Black hat,

Hiding only tired eyes.

I just let my hair be wild now.

I no longer care what the world has to say.

I let my eyes carry their sorrow and growing disdain.

One thousand, one hundred and twenty-five days.

A taste of salt that never strays.

Sleepless nights,

Dreams twisted and frayed-

Constantly choking me when I wake.

It’s four lanes whether

I’m barely breathing or burning alive.

Shedding that tread like each new skin.

Makes me wonder,

Which darkly named

Street corner shadow

Is following me now?”

Because I don’t even turn round to see.

I just know,

It’s never going to have me.

There are too many miles,

Full of beauty, life, destiny-

Just ahead of these gnarled, erratic, and decayed trees.

Words: M(e.)

Backstreet Healing: Corporal phantom 


Past: Oasis

oasis_by_lashellevalentine-d9dzitt*This was marked August 15, 2015. I suppose I wrote a plea just before the end and let it sit on the shelf unattended. I am never sure what to do with such things because by the time I think this way, I’ve already set myself free.

Oh, timing you’re an odd item, aren’t you?


Make my wild heart sing,

And not just with your fervent passion

Just before we sleep

But in the morning with your guitar,

Coffee, omelets, and succulent melodies.

Before we travel the world to help change things

Help the tired sleep,

Give of ourselves to others

Because we both love



And contagious happy memories.

Holding the door longer than others

To help keep them from the rain

Making them smile

With the entirety of our own being.

The being of us,

Our love,

And how beautiful

Together just about everything can be.

Help me, help us remember living

Before the world tried to destroy joy,

Only to replace it with hostility.

Let’s find tenderness again,

Even in the most mundane things.

Discover again,

The balance of the the lush oasis

Long before the desert was the only

Part of humanity left to see.

Words: M(e.)

Undelivered Meeting Place: LashelleValentine

The Hidden Ever-present Carry On: First Aid Kit- Silver Lining




Fevered Incubus Delirium

beautiful_nightmare_by_alicechanMaybe it is the chills,

The fever burning my body on and off.

Maybe it’s the sleeplessness,

And the tightness in my chest,

The inability to take more than a quarter breath.

Maybe it’s the  agonizing pain in my chest,

My over working oxygen starved heart.

The tinges that make me wonder if I’m going to survive.

All from running way more than anyone should while fighting to live through infection griping me tight as I fight the illness.

Now giving way to things I don’t want to think,


The looping memory of me in the end days

So long ago – as I left your cruel, heartless, untidy mind behind.

Remembering myself in a den for more days than I care to grasp at now.

The dank darkness almost obliterating my ability to see,

Heightening even the smallest of sensations and turning them to deafening pin pings.

Yet, you still believe we should be friends because we are required by man’s law to speak with civility.

So, I’m cordial and enlightening in order to ignore the next treble phone ring ,

Somehow there you are right on time,

To continually torture me.

Vibrating me into hysterical day time nightmarish epiphanies.

I cringe because it’s you,

And roll back over because I just want to sleep.

Despite the memories that still haunt my dreams

Despite the mind’s supposed ability to solve it’s worst

Destinies, encountering-s, fallen fantasies

By systematically sorting them while I suspend this conscious waking reality.

You’re always like a side swipe accident with a car crushing  car and twisted irreparable steel in my mind.

And maybe the scars on flesh still ache

Every time it rains now matter how I attempt to

Place them as far away as possibility allows.

I just want the fever to break.

Or maybe every last stored recalling

Side dream gone to aging already.

Even a memory wiping machine I saw on a

Tv show once that dictated the daily thoughts

And lives of men based in only good memories

Until they accessed it’s deep web hard drive for truths

That left them unraveled and undone.

And like the man at the end,

I’d just cut mine out.

Words: M(e.)

Captured Phantasm: Alicechan

The soundtrack of the forwarded telephone ring-


Fading Fast


Forfeited hands,

Leading me directly

Into a vanishing version of me.

But this time,

I am frightened

By the smell

Of decay.

The loss so deep

Because I can’t smell

You in person,

It’s killing me.

Like a flower that once

Grew wild-

Now only a trinket


Between the pages of your

Favorite antiqued book.

Between short quips,

And longer stories of

How we used to run

In the summer’s rain.

Speak to me,

Let me memorize

The way you pronounce

Every letter of the alphabet

So I can breathe again.

And I’m not gasping to inhale

Your dictated

Expressions of love.

The deprivation

Now merely a house

I never leave.

And my skin slowly

Growing pale.

And my liver

Failing to thrive-


Touch slowly,

Every inch again.

So I may awaken

My fallen self

And grow in the warmth

Of your body next to mine,

As it should be.

My fingers trailing

All of that pelt.

Before I climb to kiss those lips

I adore.

And light the sky

Brighter than the blinding sun

At equinox between summer and fall.

Words: M(e.)

Languishing Rose: NadavDov

Your temporary replacement: City and Colour – Blood





Differential Epilogue

_origin_Tresdienai-7 (1)

Dedicated to my soul’s twin sister of a quickly nearing 20 years.

Men please do not forget to be gentle with your doe eyed dearests.


No sorrowing this time,

Just a strange

Vacancy of thought.

No grief of trespass

Laden with culpability.

Only dreams,

That could be-

Grown again.

With out all of the

Midnight yowling

And blame

Soaked in superiority.


As the heroine,

Arriving home-

Greeted by a smiling face.

Even when she’s walled in,

Buckled up,

Hiding from the

Horrors on the other side

Of that world’s door.

On a day where she

Couldn’t save any one.

She couldn’t rebuild


The smile would only fade to

concern and  soft,

Capable hands.

Waiting to ground a curbed,

Squall of the electricity-

Mushrooming  with in.

His hand reaches for the guitar,

of her only saving grace,

A song,




Playing so meaningfully

Like they were both still young.

And the world an ocean

Of every pleasant possibility.

So she can be reminded of

How soft she really can be.

Just like the white daisies,

He grew  for her on sunny days.

Because really she’s only

A timid deer hiding in thicker skin

For protection.

So now she’s saved once again.


Not forsaken or forgotten.

Remolded in the palm of a

Much more benevolent man.

That’s how it should always end.

That’s how agony turns into carry on.

Words: M(e.)

Random stock photo # 5g67v

My host’s delightful tune:

Penny And Sparrow and Joseph – Double Heart (Live Take Away at Cause A Scene)