Of pedestals and heights.

It’s funny because
Your words cut like a serrated knife
Or make me wanna –
I keep putting myself
Through these cyclical motions
Entertaining that notion
Of reminiscing memories
As if we never went through that strife.

All, lost
But I guess there is something
To hope for
And it’s that things brighten up for you
Despite life throwing its curveballs
Or the most important part,
Monotony ever clear in view.
We live and fall and die
Oftentimes by our own hand
By the passions which lends gratification
Or the familiarity and pedestals
Which we placed ourselves on,
Simply for the other’s view.
It was too high a height
Not to fall from,
Though grace and forgiveness
Was something I felt with you
We hurtled ourselves down anyways
Tried not to injure ourselves more
On remnants littering
The ground.

Some things,
Though we try,
Still hurt because the other
Is isn’t around.
Picking up the black box,
The wings, and propeller
What pieces kept us aloft
We sort through the wreckage
To ascertain what we’ve lost.



It’s all emotionless.

Tight curls of hair

To powerfully curved hips –

Laying there,

I stared at empty space

Wondering why I thought I wanted this

Because I wanted to stop.


Closeness meant nothing

Lips licking, rubbing against mine meant nothing,

Your chin smelled like sex,

So I nuzzled it – nothing

Being overridden, supposedly arousing, wasn’t

That dull pain made me backtrack


A stranger’s hands turned me over

Tried too hard to consume me

While I wondered why I felt absolutely nothing

What an emotional misfit.


As a blue light peered a time

In an all-together pitch black room

I wanted it to be over with soon;

To put my hand in yours was a mistake,

To give into lust and that charring taste

like ashen floors.


My mouth sweeping up the dust

Hoping to come up with more

Tears dropping of their own accord,

I realized again

I don’t want this

Why did I ever think I wanted this;

I hate it.


Don’t want to do this again,

And broken down, kneeling

Wanting to feel anything

Through a sultry, darkened,

Upturned face

If there was the barest connection

Not friendship

Not even a tenuous lust

With a thread so thin, liable to break.


Because of my recklessness and

A purported lover’s trust –

His body was beautiful

But meant nothing.



Only completion.

And it was half-hearted

Half-exerted effort.

When you try to make the most of anything

It’s pity sex and I

Had told myself before

No more

No such thing

My mouth and mind spring lies

I all too well end up eating.