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Literature Text
my lips ache
for your breath on my tongue
the air all around me is empty
for your breath on my tongue
the air all around me is empty
Literature
The Man Who Burns
I am too sterile and static
I can feel you walking away
Into the arms of the man who burns
But then again why would you stay
He is so young and beautiful
He lives life while I rehearse
Acting upon his desires
While I write about mine in verse
Our love was Russian roulette
Without bullets in the chamber
Passing the gun back and forth
Without any sense of danger
The fire in your heart has gone now
This cliché is not lost on me
Metaphorically I'm the water
That dampened our destiny
You said you would never leave me
But this contract was never binding
I want you to find your freedom
If there's a freedom worth finding
Bey
Literature
Constellation
She is dream dust,
too bitter or wise
for her own good.
A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.
She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.
& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.
To me,
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos
& I orbit her.
Literature
We Are Already Ghosts
Heart rate monitors show
Minimal signs of life
But no more and no less
Than of a parasite
Feeding from a life-force
That's greater than itself
We are the lost children
In need of some help
X-ray images show
The absence of a heart
Incapable of love
We are ready to depart
All these forgotten girls
And all these forgotten boys
Together we will feel
The emptiness, the void
As MRI scans show
We have beautiful minds
Just no memory recall
Of any happy times
It's too little, too late
These words are verbose
We've long since departed
We are already ghosts
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Breath and air, like the scent of perfume in your nose.