crystal of ecstasy,
coated in sweetness—
rock of Molly,
I taste your Venus—
then every thread
within my mind,
at once lights up
a starry night—
god—
going down,
it gets me high.
Tag: poets
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there is no greater hunger
than the hunger for love.
and how do i know?
when i became convinced
that thinness
meant beauty
and beauty
meant love,
how quickly
did i shut my mouth,
hoping
my heart would fill.
it was as if
i could only pick one:
a full heart
or a full stomach.
…
we’d sooner starve for food than for love.
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drowning
in an ocean of want
desire
is a maelstrom—
it grabs my ankle.
down, down, down we go,
down, down, down to the bottom.
i found you there
in the abyss
those murky spots of shame
at the ocean’s floor.
here,
our scarlet letters
catch no light.
and here,
our wrongs
turn right.
here. in the shadows.
you alone were my Sun in the pit.
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sometimes poetry is freedom
sometimes it is barbed wire.
sometimes it is liberation
sometimes it is ruin.
sometimes it is truth,
often falsehood.
sometimes it is truth
wrapped in falsehood,
sometimes falsehood
wrapped in truth.
who is to say which?
sometimes
it’s like taking what’s ugly
and making it clean.
sometimes
it’s like taking what’s gorgeous
and making it weep.
sometimes
i lay myself
naked
on paper.
sometimes,
i hide myself
in glamour.
every poem I’ve ever written
that wasn’t about desire
is false.
that’s all i know.
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love:
one of the most basic needs.
give a man a warm bed
but no love,
still will he freeze.
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don’t you know
my cradle was a coffin,
my beginning
the end?
and don’t you know
my sunrise
was a sunset,
that i was baptized
in the Styx?
don’t you know
the stars winked out
when my heart
began its beating?
and don’t you know
how many bled
to feed the babe
naked, nursing?
a bottle filled
with ruby red—
how many left
drained, bleeding?
so, i ask you:
can a vampire
learn to love?
can i kiss your neck
without sinking
my teeth?
and if you lay your head
on my chest
but hear not a heartbeat,
tell me:
will you run?
please, tell me:
can a vampire love?
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the only true pain
is not feeling at all
sorrow can be bliss
if you’re numb for too long
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a cold has syrup. a fever, a reducer. a cough, a lozenge.
what of the spirit?
what of heartache?
poetry, music.
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I’m not afraid of my fear,
I let it run through me,
a river, the Styx—
it passes, I remain.
that river, a rush.
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Jupiter, Jupiter, Jupiter:
I can feel your heartbeat from here.
a hidden vein of starlight
from your heart
to mine:
through me you thrum.
I am
but a child,
and oh,
the heavens,
they throw me,
they catch me—
they throw me,
they catch me—
i am thrown—
i trust
i’ll be caught.
you know not
the hidden hands that catch those
who take leaps of faith!
so, leap—
amongst the stars,
there’s no bottom,
there’s no falling—
no,
only flying.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 