Your brown eyes are a shame
to the stars and to the heavens.
To everything innocent
inside of me.

Each time-worn glance distills
Itself, retracts old shadows.

The whiskey clouds my mind,
swells my eyes.
I’ve been claimed by the insane
for this exhibition.

Responsibilities you won’t accept
make ripples in my flesh.
And who is to say years from now,
there will be only peace or only war.
It has always been Love/Hate.

These words strangle the hours
like serial killers,
And grin like demons.

This ink is the blood of my heart.
A dagger enters sweetly
And murderous,
Slides in tightly and twists.

I have grown fond of this
Slow death,
And I know you’ve always loved
to hear me scream.

~Heather Lenz

Poet, writer, artist, publisher, editor