PAD 19

There's a song somewhere quiet;
playing on repeat
only your heart can hear its rhythm.

Psalms for the Disaffected

We pledge allegiance with phantom limbs, over
the ill-stitched holes of our hearts.

Steam

You are another copper heart in a world of copper pieces. A hydraulic pump. A tin filament sorting through impurities. You are the crankshaft on the zeppelin mother-ship; your flywheel is spinning rapidly, uncontrolled. Break our ribcages open and watch our cogs countdown. Watch us become obsolete. Watch our mechanisms rust till they're irreplaceable. Watch us run dry, watch us die.

National Poetry Month - Day 28

I can't imagine if your words held any beauty
because your mouth perfected a sneer
a scar across your face. I'd already lived this present
past tense on what I knew you were saying
though you'd somehow gone mute
or I went deaf, suddenly. We'd stopped speaking
the same riddles months ago. Tongue-twisting a lie to fit the scene of the crime.
I would ask for mercy if it were yours to grant.
You play executioner in bedsheets
a cop to my increasingly convincing robber. I think the bad guy wins
today. I think I stole your heart and got away...