la francaise

i feel so french
in this giant sized bow
thinking thoughts like

"mon cherie!"

gazing at tin dogs

feigning to be
something more
than a feeble-minded lover

and twirling down sidewalks
where you don't exist.

invertebrate gray

as the stars fall out of my eyes
like rain,
i turn to you
and you look away:

"things haven't changed, honey
you just got 'em wrong"

an' i see your nochelance suit
shaded invertebrate gray.

...more
than just a terror
to the eyes.

the war of escapism

i can see them.
dying.
some,
afraid to be alone
others,
afraid not to be.
but i'm fighting so hard.
to not think about
how your first initial looks
in ink
against some desolately white page.
this displacement
is failing.
hearts
are still crashing through
and the coursing of blood
leaves me
like a marathon runner
with noir in my eyes.