“dear warrior”

dear warrior,

you have fought
long and hard to keep alive,
to keep your head above water.
you have seen things no one
should have to see.
you have lived in hell for long enough
that you know all your demons by name.
you have wished for repose
if only for one night.
now here you are.
you have removed your armor.
you have tucked yourself into the
softest bed.
why do you keep waking,
dear friend?
here you are,
in the arms of someone who
loves you. why do you keep
a loaded gun with
white-knuckled grip
in your hand?
why do you push your love
who calms you
out of the room at midnight
when your demons knock at
your door, trying to consume you again?
why do you look at hope and see
a minefield? why do you see
love as a sword dangling overhead?
you have fought this war.
it is over. i promise.
you don’t have to return to these
scenes of horror again.
forget the demons’ names.
let the house in hell burn.
hold your love close
with nothing but warmth in mind.
leap into hope and find
that the mines are wildflowers
and that love is a lightness
meant to be enjoyed.

“chi rho”

i wash my hands with the clearest blue

i wash my hands of this
crucify my shame and let it die
with nails bored through its hands
tattoo my love’s name on my extra rib
paint it on the tables of my heart
i am the angel of death
he is no human
i am the host
this is heaven if we make it so
blankets crumpled up
on the left side of the bed
they’ve been there for three days now
funeral wrappings for a 6-hour death
with the sun in the east i’ll rise again
whether i wish to or not
when i go under
will you be there?
same blue sky
at a different angle
same blue sky
i am no risen lord
but my heart is enough
conquer by this
conquer by this
put my heart on your sleeve
and own it
by that sign you will win

“right things i-v”


it’s the right things at the wrong times

these little things that kill me

i have been left on the floor

battered and bleeding

and you sit beside me

i will not let you bandage my wounds

i must do this on my own –

on my own

i have done things on my own

for far too long

so just sit in silence beside me

and let the stories fill the void


where to begin?

flush out my wounds

my screams only mean healing

my hair is longer in my mind

longer like when i knew you

and i am wearing your ring


wearing your ring

i want to wear your ring –

take your name –

be yours to the end of my days.


i want deep talks about the things that hurt –

and the things that heal

you show me that you have scars

and bones that ache when it rains

i will hold you while you sleep

and kiss you until you wake

this is no nightmare

this is no nightmare

you are awake

and you are with me


we have fought a war

but now we fight together

you, my king

and me, your queen

and our scars and hands

will make us whole

“i was cold”

i was cold when you found me again

heart locked

unwilling to trust

i did not want another beside me

reaching out

reaching out

trying to find the rhyme

and reason in the darkness

sense and pattern in the walls

no attention paid to the flowers

in the cracks

of the walls and of

my broken heart

you knew me when i was warm once

before the night fell and

i saw happiness only

through a frosted

glass window

in glimpses looking sideways

you knew me when i was full to bursting

with more than enough to give

now you find me with a soul as thin

as i am wide

and fading still

i’m not saying you’ll fix me

you wouldn’t want that and

nor would i

but hold my hand while i heal

stitch myself back together

in the quiet and hold me

until the dawn comes again

simply remind me of what i was


love seeds i-v


(the light slants sat awkward angles)

i wish i had a metaphor for this one

but words fail

maybe i’m being overdramatic

maybe i don’t want to lose you

and i feel like god’s playing a long game

and i will not break at the cracks

(i have never been in love

something about it always fades)

something you has me

thinking “i love you”

after you go

and i’d go anywhere for you

but would you have me?

(i would have you)

i don’t think so


i won’t go anywhere

and nor will this stupid poetry

i write to process

i write to feel complete

but these words on this page

are filled with imagined strikethroughs

from trying to “process” my way out of

feelings that should be sat on

and maybe even enjoyed

but i always lay all of my cards on the table

and lay myself bare at the same time

so that there is very little to hide

but you lay yours down one at a time

and flip them back over

you know how to play properly

and i do not


god, how i miss keeping a journal

even though it made it worse

but i need someplace to write your

phrases before they (will never) fade

i’m even starting to write like you

and a simple notebook would not

begin to do you justice

but open the gates

and tell me of the foes you met

in your mind’s eye and that your hands touched

(i have not met them)

(but i swear on my life that i can see them)



you don’t need writing to keep me

it’s like you sat me at a table

and reserved it

for when you return

and i do not need to stray

i will wait

i will wait

if you have me or not


(give me an hour and i will come back)

“beautiful aftermath”

knock on the door and find

you have a mind like a barfight’s end

lots of glass and blood and bruises

it makes no sense at all

the brawlers left the place in ruins

yet you keep your things in order from the sidewalk

take a deep breath, inhale

you are slowly opening the doors for air

and i am sifting for stories in the wreckage

of a plateglass window

there’s no need for fear, my love

you’ll get this back together

it will look beautiful from the inside out

knock on the door and find

you have a mind like a cry of pain

pointed darkness and poorly healed wounds

it makes no sense at all

the victors erased all sense of truth

yet you keep your things in order from the outside

push out all that’s left

you are slowly exhaling all your air

and i am riding out the aftershocks

that still shake your mind

there’s no need for fear, my love

you’ll get this back together

it will look beautiful from the inside out

“conquering song”

you are not a city to be burned.
it is not your path to be sown with salt.
it is your path to take up
arms against the wrong
take it by force
come at it from the north
with the strength of dozens of war elephants,
hundreds of horses, and
an army at your back.
if those who would put you in harm’s way
try and tell you to give up the fight,
to surrender
to break,
remind them of who you are.
remind them of the miles you crossed
mountains you climbed
the things you have seen
and warn them, do not cross me.
I am my fathers child.
I have his brain,
his guts,
and the same stubborn will.
and this time, it is not
my lot
to fall.