Origami

Have you ever pressed your forehead
against a window pane
and felt the coolness of another dimension
trickle across your skin?

The sensation–
coupled with our ardent stares
at the outside world–
is beguiling.

Luggage

I have gone everywhere and nowhere
since the last time I saw you.
Voyaging frequently,
I carry everything that I need in a suitcase.
But, unpacking is tedious 
when the place is so familiar.
Though, I dare not leave anything 
here.
I neatly unfold the contents of my case 
Coupling a polo with chinos,
t-shirt with jeans– 
a ritual of garments and expressions.

It’s amazing how we condense ourselves
when required.
Carefully selecting the essentials and 
abandoning the unnecessary with reckless precision.
So here I am once again
unfurling my things across the duvet.
Reorganizing what I deem valuable
and tidying my world inside a box.

I have gone everywhere and nowhere
packing and unpacking and packing. 
Yet, all that I seem to carry
is everything that I left behind.  

Obsession

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

Rising,
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!

Salvation

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.

Immoral

I traced her steps,
hurriedly,
as if to erase the recollection
before it set in my brain.
She paused to locate her keys,
smirking
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