Black Blood

You let the ink drip onto
the page like a nosebleed
cascading down your chin
or a needle tapped into the
soft spot of your forearm. 

A bit of bloodletting to rid
of the tar building up in
your veins or the memory
darkening to cancer in 
the depths of your brain. 

Your readers are like leeches,
you won’t feel the sting of soft 
rings, where the teeth sink into 
the flesh of your vulnerability;
but you’ll know you contributed 
to filling the belly of a void when 
the relief of your own passes 
by like a dawn of new age.  

– B. 


They say you’ll fight for
what you want but it seems
like your army is not on my side.

You have made no efforts
to protect me or your future,
and I will not live in the repeat
timeline of your past and ache
over my lack thereof. 

I reside in the future.
Those who can’t stand up for
that choose to linger in the
poison of their past. 

– B. 


I look around at the flames
engulfing these ruins and
I only feel a calming hum 
strike the phosphorous 
of my lungs. 

No one is fireproof

The world will always act
up like a child who wasn’t
invited to a party I never
chose to host. 

It’s true that nothing in life
can last forever but that also 
goes for all the good things it
offers as well,

Doesn’t it?

– B. 


When you sit in the field
of no breeze or noise you
tend to notice the small
intricacies of the world
that pass by in whispers. 

Just as a stag grazes on
an open terrain, 
or a rabbit pokes its head 
out of its burrow,
We live in a state of 
perpetual awareness. 

I feel the colors that drift
past my orbital pool and I 
taste my veins pulsing deep
beneath this skin I call home.   

The world continues on 
whether we notice it or not. 
What makes all the difference
is our attention to ourselves
and all else we share it with. 

– B. 

The abysmal state
is the plain I seem
to crave at daylight. 
The one in which 
I’m walking through
a field of memories,
and the taste of them
is sweeter than any
recognition I could
ever muster. 
There is this odd 
sensation that travels
up your toes and 
pulses like a tidal
wave in your veins,
An eerily transient
The clarity that I can 
do anything that I

Like skydiving or
sleeping soundly,
a coming of age. 

– B. 

Shifting Tides

Sometimes this skin feels
tight around my organs,
my lungs burst into ash,
my veins shrivel into coils. 

Sometimes my lashes weigh
with the weight of a black
sea brimming behind the 
winter solstice of mascara. 

Sometimes these words fall
like sand through my fingers. 
An hourglass stopped up by
memories lost in the tides 
of a life better worth 

– B. 

Family Ties

Labyrinths weaving 
twisted twines of
promise spindling
a webs of lies,
And darkness creeps
behind the tides of
murky depths,
This salted brine,
a weightless tomb,
a life declined,
In hidden eyes
of a passerby,
there’s no more
not one more
nor any reason
to call you

– B.