JAGUAR

10.21.20
once again, i lost everything i wanted to say in the things i kept secret.
i wonder what it feels like,
when i play at great dodge
another question you don’t ask
is just another blank canvas

for who’s benefit?

not sure who’s holding onto daydreams anymore
when i hand you my wrists
we buckle yours down
that unspoken agreement that knows
chains
are just my eyes looking for an exit row

i think you know what hides in my sheets
caught in the scene with the weapon
who gets away with murder when
they wash their linen because you see
no you don’t
the things you love
are still the shames old heartaches
taught me to hate

JAGUAR

10.13.20
I’ve been giving thoughts to tension.
Trying to wrap my brain around that word, what was it? Contrarian? Combative? Opposing? The perfect mixture of over caffenation, old towns, and folk music. I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I’m starting to realize, I got this little fable of mine all wrong; you’ve always been more Emperor than Fool. What I saw in your eyes was less your beginning, and more an image of my own reflection. Call it Foolish yearning.

I should’ve know– I’ve always been the type of person who believes the most reckless thing we can do with our hearts, is to not be reckless with them at all. So yeah, I stomped my feet when you told me the brightest flames burn the quickest. See, when you saw us as a candle, I saw us as the Sun.

I look for patterns, because that’s what humans do to try and make sense of things. In hope of some star-like order. I look for gravity in phrases, play Russian Roulette with your playlists, watch for symbols in the things I read, points and swirls that my match my own. But the real pattern there is, is the one I make when I hold up a mirror. And reflect.

Being gifted doesn’t mean you’ve been given something. It means you have something to give. So, I guess I should say, I’m sorry. I saw in you something seed, and yearned to grow it not realizing I was never given permission.

Well…. more like, ignoring your shouts of protest. And look, this isn’t an excuse, but have you ever met a fox who didn’t ignore fences? I closed my ears to the “stand back”, “don’t get too close”, “keep your distance”. I hear you now, and I guess I’ll resign myself to continue making the world beautiful simply by refusing to lie about it.

JAGUAR

10.2.20
no, not because you like how I smell.
it’s how you touch me, as if my skin were silk or chrysalis.

it’s your eyes,
im all too familiar with that look.
the on hiding when it gets caught staring

i know you’ve thought it – i can feel it in the rise and falls of your chest. Collarbones are bad at keeping secretes that way

to that point
eventually you’ll realize there’s no bottom here
no shoe is dropping and
you’re never going to reach an end to that free fall of yours
that’s never been the point

JAGUAR

9.28.20
welcome to the dinner table
you’re dinning among muses
this seasons’ special features cat-a-la-large
if that doesn’t wet your appetite
check the menu for our all time favorites
you may find familiar faces there

my apologies if the invitation was delayed
I’d written your name in the undercurrent of cannibals
confused predator and pray (who’s who again?)

In Nature, wild cats will scavenge the belly of corpses for the mineral organs. Domestic cats are also scavengers. They’ll eat their owners faces when they die.

I guess what I’m saying is;
your canines are larger than my aloofness
and I have a tendency to walk in jugular first

Don’t forget, the corpse is a lonely hunter too. This anatomy is a promise no body ever gets to keep.