“Do I need to be fed?” the eyes asked the mouth, “Do I need imagery to stay alive?” “Would I starve without food?” the mouth then answered “Have a drink!” the eyes rapidly replied “Then do the same” the mouth said “Soak your glare, let the tears roll down to…

Invigorating all that invigorment  and Science “Not on my lawn!”  they shrieked and then they burst into laughter . . .  All your kind eyes exited faces tired horses waking up every day showering of gratitude bound and entangled crystallized singing laughing mind-bending porride and onion brushing your teeth  and…

Crushed Lips. Colour me in every eye. I meet your question. My metal fingers melt into the cracks of your palm. Connecting the air of the skin, to the flesh, to the bones, and what fills the space in between. What exists in this vivid, yet completely still moment is…

Not a home, per say but a pyre on which to cast ones self and be immolated.

An Anti-heroin with a thousand faces, weaving tales like mist over the open sea. As the falling angel whispers to open the gates to the cold, dead and flaming goal at the end of spiral of violence. Under the darkened moon, she sharpens care and connection. She ties you up,…

Zrak can be scattered and warm But it can also concentrate into air point With precision and intensity Like a laser

Changing skin feathered fettered fur armour   I will if you let me           Timer

And where do you say we start  to shake ourselves of our memories and reason?   To greet the bewildered road with our soggy  and aimless feet. With eyes streaming, now downcast from the round sky,  fingering the small hole at the centre of all the thinness.   You look something…

As the blue sun appears under the right and the red sun appears under the left armpit of the sky, I feel that what I will leave written here is unimportant. (I enjoy the ease of this little pain that I have to deny.) I write secretly, so the stars…

The self-decline bastion of human rights, rises above, But gravity makes angels fall, They chased  Lilith out of  pardes Arguments for killing of one another’s kin, She here white money whispering about a could, dead and flemming goal In the end we might be hurte  and after hurte there is…