in your silences

you’re the reason i am where i am now
and where i am is nowhere near
you and your antics, your mistrials
your misfires or your silences

and where you were
was never where i’d been
we’d only sidestep,
dance, pretend

i’m the reason you are where you are now
and where i am is nowhere near
you and your songs, your rare smiles
your breath, your words, your promises

and where i was
was never where you’d been
we’d bash our hearts
together, then

you’d be the reason i am where i am now
and where i am is not quite clear
to you, or me, and all the while
i’m listening to your silences

i’m listening to your silences
i’m listening to your silences
i hear you in your silences
i’m with you in your silences

the henchman

i dare not speak of you.
if i give you a name, if i shout your statistics
(or even whisper them, sotto voce)
you will know me for what i am:
a terrified, thrill-seeking mishmash
of bystander, armchair quarterback, and henchman
praying for more time
so i can watch the axe fall in slow motion.

my own murder

time is no longer my accomplice

i can’t get away with my own murder
the way i could when days were without number

now each sun is an accursed gift
mine not to squander but to hoard jealously
to protect fiercely from flood and famine

i raise my fists in worshipful defiance
to find that they rest in my lap, open,
waiting for dreams to fall through
into the future of my past

meta’fisico

this is the word
the one that describes us
physical
kinetic

but, not content
to merely be conscious of
our physicality
or to hover above this
earthly plane,
we instead add an accent
we stress the a

which makes us more than just lovers
we are two halves
of the same fractured shadow
slipping sideways
through cracks in the present

runs on

you are heart of my heart
(but my heart now is dangerous)
you are bones of my hands
(but my bones are a trap)
you are blood in my veins
(but my blood now is traitorous)
you are breath in my lungs
(but my lungs may collapse)

and the guilt
and the guilt
and the guilt runs on
am i stealing your life?
am i stealing its son?
and the guilt runs on
and the guilt runs on

disappearing act

i ignore you purposefully
and yet my mind finds you
it’s out of control
a goddamn somnambulist
shuffling in circles
instead of advancing
it finds your hands
and tries to hold them
it finds your eyes
and tries to meet them
but hands and eyes both
slip away like reality
and you disappear again
and again and again