Monday, November 21, 2011


beneath the fiery glance
a ripple,                  

a trail of gentleness,
fireflies tracing a

time gently ruffles your
conviction of my yet un-
fulfilled role as your first
violator, your standard of
insincerity, your (secret)

within these gaps I
flow, these moral slippages,
the obscure realm between
vision and desire,

quietly invading suspicion,
for I am formless yet, inhaled
by you as you resist

my finger on your eyes now,
my voice in your head.