este espacio
sin palabras
me envuelve
con estrellas blancas
que todos perdieron
sin saber
que arrancaríeron
agujeros en mi
cuerpo frío.
este ruido
tiene sed
para todo que pasa
entre su mente
vacía, y las
lagrimas de las estrellas
que se cayeron.

you feel like never all over again
from pearls to mire
curling perpetually in a ring
above the sound of your voice
that burns off the end of a cigarette
and into the air that raises dawn.

eventually the spark fades out
and the smoke that remains
vanishes from your breath finding me
lost where you picked up the means to roll
this amber sudden rift.

have you felt me bare,
scrawled dusty upon this wall
in thin white lines of morning;
lingering like unscented charcoal in the soft autumn light
drifting deeply to the small pockets of your lungs.

light recaptures the dawn
like millions of words
that spin through the heads
of children;
they curl through these reeds
with anticipation
and willingness to succumb
to the vulnerability that
is fed through bent lips.

i found myself lost beneath the mountains
in a place where, between the sheets, we are all
artists and lovers
experiencing life as it were meant to be sought
through all the rough edges and sand.

its a stifling heat
shrouded in a blueness
that is not my own
and i'll rush to the foot of these stairs
to see you worn into the
threads of this dirty carpet
hopelessly drowning
and whispering all your memories
seductively
into the pit of a glass jar
for me
to keep on my shelf
that i might see it with the backs
of my eyelids
everytime i fall asleep to the sound
of footsteps pounding in the hallway.

the power of never knowing loss is pervasive
and strangely unfortunate.

crecemos en manores que
nunca
hemos imaginado
y los dias pasan con la miga
de un pasado perdido
donde vivimos como flores
gritando, gritando al cielo
nuevo
y cada medida tomamos
es como una pesita de una mosca
brillando en una telerana pura.