Perked up on Ecstasy, the other day she snorted...
from a Motel 8 bathroom, from his mouth...
The missing does not come in tears.
it does not come like an ache between the chest...
Every morning,
every night...
I've heard loud silence of Manila lately,
and it is so sincere that whispers...
I tattoo you from the light; I pray for you into
the night. There is danger in this -- my bedside...
As doubt rushed me over,
you watched the last piece...
Empty little vessel
Sad twisted little thing...
Shall I shred my aches
into skin rags to survive...
A flurry of golden hay,
Falls to the ground...
On morose mornings, I think of myself,
the tea leaves at the bottom of your cup...
This thirst reminds me
of winter...
These rocky mountains are now hers;
flowers - subtle myths of childhood...