I say I can’t dance,
but that’s a lie.
Everyday, I tap and slink around
the ugliness that I barely conceal.

and limbering and vaulting around
because I can’t bear to remain idle
and sit with my truth.

Shuffle! Spin! Slide! Repeat!
I am Astaire in his prime
staring at my reflection
waiting for the applause I so desperately need.

Tell me I’m smart. Great.
Tell me I’m perfect. Excellent.
Tell me that you need me. Divine.
Tell me…again. And again. And again.

For the rhythm of your accolades
has become my obsession
that blots out the memory of what I am.
Shuffle! Spin! Slide! Repeat!


My angel in Damascus
was malt liquor and a colt 45.
You see?
You can’t save me.
I paid for these sins.
And will sing no songs of redemption.


I traced her steps,
as if to erase the recollection
before it set in my brain.
She paused to locate her keys,
at the fleeting innocence in my pupils.
We entered;
to a potpourri of weed and black and milds
as my conscience violently convulsed in my jeans.
I exhaled;
and summoned my demons
as I fished a condom out of my pocket.

Please Smile

A million glances and one
Can’t see what is there to be seen.
So, if this is what we are meant to be
please smile, my love.
Smile for me.
One. More. Time.

Awkward Words

To me,
Words are obtuse and awkward things.
Arranged and dressed for every occasion, but never as useful as the natural sense.
And that is life – in a way.
Exhilarating, momentary, tangible
and described by millions of obtuse and awkward things.

Keeper of the Night

I am not unnerved by the ominous scent of nightfall.
Nor am I amused by its secrets.
I do not fear the shadows because the darkness I keep, consumes me.
And the monsters that thought me prey, I devoured