the goal of poetry
is to humiliate shame.

the sea smells of you;
i drown in manic pungeance
that soothes the soul and
yet, i find no solace for having
to share you with another
whose senses you quicken
as well.

***

what pale halo of light
is cast on my soul; what
anguish yearns
absolution; what mockery
feeds my longing
for you?

funny
how the world finds ways
to jest our tiny souls.
what menagerie engulfs
putrid, wayward life; what
life breathes unto
soul-less bitches and
spiteful heart-shrinks?
i find no salvation in
your once sweet eyes -
now all i see is
repressed anger, hiding
behind even cuter smirks.

what pale halo of
strengthdo we find in
love lost, found, scathed then
forgotten altogether? none,
i believe
now.