When I bury my own needs and my own feelings to try to keep the peace I am left feeling like a ghost.

Mealy-mouthed sub-optimal consumer Filled with a black bile tar heart Feathers fringed tinged dark with fear Red and Green with envy All...

Self-control asleep at the wheel Buried in the kind of task That carries only a sick appeal Back to sleep At arms length Never withheld Anxiety, the lash or the leash Another mouth to feed The sullen sun a soured star Growing to consume It has to be there Dirt under these nails Peel it all away Layer by layer of fear Far from the belonging sought Yet this isolation is a wish Hoping that you'll fall apart Completion a curse run from More selfish pursuits Burying the lead to be

Deimos and Phobos I can barely breathe Suffocating in Quicksand Underneath my skin Sundered secrets caught in throats Fires burning under tongues Faces blushing, light this up Up and atom, meet these suns Purging, belching out black smoke Prodigal, still doing splits Bending over backward To become the destroyer of worlds A far cry from throwing stones Ripples of the underworld Lunar movers centrifugal Moon-set against the glassy sea Growing cold but still ticking Lips still