myrth

thinning air:
the perfect place to disappear.

to slough this life like a snake to his skin;
to begin anew, as it were,

before the incongruence of my sex
became manifest.

oh bliss!
how quickly the thorns fade and tears come!

myre

finally sensing the scent of absence;
holding back tears and words
from entering your hands.

an arpeggio of emotion
that i'm about to play.

not lost at sea; just unwilling
to face the storm before me.

tired of ascending these steps
tired of walking these paths
tired of writing these words.

sarough

what a difficult choice!
the tempting hand of pain and
the wearisome hand of pleasure.
to draw a thinner line would be difficult.

perfection marred by man’s perversion, or
temporal respite for this brilliant youth?

it’s not just the truth of pain
nor the sin of pleasure; rather,
it is my life.