beneath the moonlit olive tree, may you lay me to rest
where dreams are cradled by the sea, may you lay me to rest

the waves carve our names in stone, as the tide erases time
if i must leave, in the words and metaphors of my poetry, may you lay me to rest

in the oases of the desert’s unforgiving, scorching heat
next to the flowers of my love that bloom in secrecy, may you lay me to rest

my feet, molded to the cool sands, lost beneath the stars
resorting to love as my compass, if it is my fate to cease to be, may you lay me to rest

each breath i have spent seeking you mixes with the simoom winds
the dust clouds my vision of your sun-kissed eyes, if you must flee, may you lay me to rest

the constellations dim, the stars have become weary of my longing gaze
for my heart cannot bear to outlive even the thought of thee, may you lay me to rest

ghostly apparitions test the strength of my ardor
even if my destiny is fraught with fear, and my prayers fail to preserve my sanctity, may you lay me to rest

i am lost in the desert of your heart; this life means nothing if you are not here with me
while the last wisp of breath slips from my lips and you are not there to receive it. in eternal desire, may you lay me to rest

i was never pretty
but i could be
there’s a boy in the mirror
with puffy eyes and nails bitten too short
he carries an anger,
not a righteous anger, but a pitiful one
there is blame in his accusatory eyes
he raises his fist to the mirror but never punches
all he mutters is “i hate you”
three words repeated till they have lost meaning
but it hurts all the same
i stretch my hand out  
our fingertips meet on the surface and his gaze softens
a thin glass barrier divides our touch, keeping our fingers suspended in space
doomed never to meet
i wish i could tell him that he is deserving of love
that the world is at his every whim
there is only melancholy in his soul
and monotony in his movements
his eyes always drift to his body; it never looks right to him
a tinge of desperation and yearning stained his eyes
his breathing shudders as if the air has thinned
he hunches over, reminiscent of a gargoyle
stone heart and stiff muscles
his cries are mute but I feel the vibrations through our touch
it is only a mirror
i didn’t become pretty
but i could be.
oh i could be

remus and romulus loved each other
or was it hate that founded the empire
when they suckled from the wolf, did they too become feral creatures
the calcium, intoxicating, and invigorating
did they notice their nails growing longer, and their canines sharper
did romulus **** remus because he would not stop growling
remus whispered indefinitely in his brothers’ ears
a comfortable sound, but one that fed the emptiness in romulus’ mind
that must be why he felt the need to **** him
to see his life leave his pale eyes
and feel warm liquid pooling under him
the knife silenced, and romulus with a clear head
numbly built an empire on the bones of his conscious
cain stabbed abel with a fire in his eyes
the hatred in his heart was so fierce that only abel’s voice was the one he heard
was it love that drove him to stab his brother in the back
the back that he spent many years following behind, as young explorers
he silenced abel, and God cursed him for eternity
quiet, yelled the moon to the sun
***** out the light that shines too bright into your window
cut the flowers at the neck of the stem, for the pollen dries your eyes
build your empire on the death of love
take this capsule
feel the bullet go inside your esophagus
the bullet that will cause the death of your heart
not fired out of any gun
but given to you by yourself
your conscious is stabbed in the back
canines dug deep in the neck of the one you loved
the thorns of a rose exist for what purpose
can you reconcile this ******
synapses blocked, stringy tendrils inhibit smiles
you now can only live, and rule you must
pray that your empire will not fall

two slits form on my back
translucent, thin flesh sprouts
veins look like lightning strikes, peppering my wings

struck leaving only scarred, burning flesh
the taste of lamb changed when i saw one get butchered
a knife powered by the words of God

cumulus clouds, blood rain
it’s a miracle they say, the fruit is euphoric this time of year
a promise of honeysuckle

i read scripture with my mother on the mount
a burning bush, the leaves know they will be dead soon
the bugs charred, their screams are mixed with the sounds of hymns

intricate words pass through my eyes
i can only admire my mother
her eyes on the paper, unwavering

read! read! she yells, before God punishes you
i am already the lamb, my heart whispers
i feel the sadness in her lips, the disappointment rooting in her spine

perhaps it is why she feels pain there
the feathers i shed obscure the words i long to absorb
i lie to her that i am gifted, that my blood is in prophecy

did God allow ismael to feel the fire on his skin before saving him
singed slightly, did He tempt him with the ultimate sacrifice
my blood does not douse fires, it simply cakes and scabs

there are lambs birthed from my fallen feathers
my mother cradles one, crimson stains her light-like clothes
the blood of a sacrifice tastes like mothers milk

there's a moth caught in the house
the sun, amplified through glass sheets
warm stars hidden in vast, cold space
skeletal frame lurches, cool and uninviting
the dark looms around every corner
ghosts, imagined and real, haunt every step
artificial light does not push away threats
it is a faux star in a dying place
my bones merge with wooden beams
bugs of the earth eat at my liver
butterfly wings, ethereal but venomous
leeches do not consume tainted blood
my pain unmakes me
the termites ******* sins
the eyes of a moth's wing are not blinded by light
my pupils dilate, resurrection
reborn as filament reflected
only moths could love unholy lights