like climbing vines of ivy

long graceful fingers
and growing like ivy
up pale cheekbones
leaving only the eyes

do you ever
look in the mirror
and feel that fear –
climbing vine of panic

which hands are real?
the longer you stare
the more those leaves of
nerves pressing
belong to someone else
the more those eyes
grow sparkling in wicked


  1. too pretentious?

    Communion with Basil Hayden

    Insomniac; I sit in my leather chair
    The silence is sacrosanct

    I can't help but think of you telling me
    'You gotta stop drinking'

    I watch the rocks crack and melt
    In a pool of languid salvation
    While the blue light
    of an empty laugh track
    Bathes me in a somnambulant lullaby

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