like a tree in the dead of city
tough skin is what i need
to think about myself
as standing tall and without bend
tickling the sky with my leaves
tough skin is what i speak
through the chirps of tawny birds
and the billions of bugs’ marching feet
along the branches of my trunk
the clouds layered gray
throughout this day
watching coupled hands clasped in love
tender are their eyes
looking forward to a future
who won’t surrender to their whims
the old ones long ago bereft of their lover
look the other way
thorns so sharp
and beautiful like your love
unattainable to the touch
dry and dead like promises made
in a far off night
that was made in a bottle
the venomous words
eject from a prickly tongue
the heart hides itself
8 moons and 3 Sputniks
i see tonight while standing
outside deep breathing
the news shows
bleeding from my neighbor’s window
tomorrow i will rise
get caffeinated
and get on the road
to imagine what it’d be like
if i could fly in outer space
Danzig belts it out
my dark scrapbooks lay across
open to my life
i don’t need a soul
you as you have shown me that
love i divorce you
my back is my strength
i sit with the moon at might
we both speak softly
just another day
there are things
that are meant
to he secret
there are codes
that are followed
and no one
knows the meaning
or how the
human drama will
be played out
perhaps there will
be murder or
the sale of
drugs there will
be money to
be made no
matter what the
cost of it
vejo o reflexo da minha alma num espelho de facto a dor paira entre o sangue do coração e a electricidade ela olha para mim e aprendo que está tudo bem sentar-se em silêncio por vezes e apenas sentir através
words less spoken 