Today 

Reality is beautiful. There’s dishes from the night in the sink, an ashtray on the kitchen counter, all evidences of two people who finally lived, instead of existing, after a long, long time, scattered all over the house. Your shirt comes down my knees, almost. I wear that to make breakfast, despite my own closet spilling clothes onto bedroom floor. Because your shirt is real. You stretch and follow me shirtless into the kitchen, even though your clothes are freshly washed and folded in your closet. Because skin, skin is real. We make breakfast, touching in one small way or another. We laugh. The cereal gets soggy. We really don’t care. Reality is beautiful.

The Devil and I 

I don’t mind the Devil 

He lies, he spits venom

Drinks too much 

Sometimes he sets my home on fire

But he’s honest, doing everything in his power to 

Lead me astray 

Still, we’re okay, the Devil and I

With him, I know where I stand 

It’s a process, but

It’s okay 

It’s these crooked halos I don’t understand 

All the good people around me, whose rot I can smell 

a page of reality away 

What kind of God’s golden children are they

The purity doesn’t fit, their wings are all wrong 

I read the Devil was an angel 

It makes sense why he left 

Even I can see that he didn’t belong 

The Devil and I 
©CM 

22.03.2017

Better the Devil we know… (very well). 

Meat Atoms 


Meat Atoms. Lumps of blood and flesh with indecipherable chemical impulses, derived from measurable stimuli. We grow from one cell to being Beings, with destinies and dreams and back to organic matter, crumbling under the soil. We are the molecules of the universe. We matter. 

Blind Woman

Blind woman,

What do you see? 

Did you choose your paths

Arbitrarily?

Was there method to madness, 

did he

Put the blindfold on

Or did you, because 

You didn’t like mirrors

Eyeballs macerated and torn 

All semblance of foresight ripped, gone

Senses leavened, realizations withdrawn

Did you make this, blind woman?

Is this of your hand?

Did you choose not to see 

Where you stand?

Gouged sockets aren’t pretty but 

Your delusions are uglier 

More bitter 

And no, you bleeding fool, 

Reality isn’t fair either 

Ravines and crevices and cracks

Do not a face adorn 

Go away, blind woman

Go, and put some make up on. 

©CM

02.03.2017

I found the image on tumblr. Really, what lies we tell… 

I. Am. Not. 

  

I. Am. Not. 

With those words, could I cease to be?

Would that taut thread we walk, between today and tomorrow

Tatter into nonentity?

Do the separate organs of body too rebel?

Do my muscles know when I tell

Stories, or do they just guide the words, unconcerned

Have I inked only paper? Or has my flesh 

My tendons, my cartilage also

My stories learnt

Are my nuclei content to divide and multiply 

While I lay here, staring at the ceiling in the dark 

Do the cells in me that are reborn know what it is to die 

Half new, half hastily repaired parts 

My arm twitches, lying across my forehead 

My chest heaves with unspeakable things 

Can my alveoli taste the sour tang of fear too? 

Or oblivious, they function imperturbably 

They do not choke on inspiration, as I am wont to do

I. Am. Not. 

Not after tonight 

Oh, my body will still exist 

My skin will wrinkle, my joints will creak

But this hollow left inside, I’d gambled for this 

And I lost 

My axons will revel 

In their tallying synapses 

What never has been can leave 

No lapses 

But I’ll always know how much 

I’ll miss 

©CM 

20.02.2017

Lessons In Fall

Pink, velvet soft, blushing, misbegotten
Dirt stained, so many flowers lay
Forgotten
The sidewalks were carpeted, the
Alleys were filled
Rosy teardrops strewn
all over the world
For whom have these flowers blossomed?
To be thrown away,
what have they sinned?
Why did they grow, so painstakingly slow
To be this chagrined?
Were they for us? Did we forget
To witness their beauty, before age and neglect
Set in?
Or am I seeing this the wrong way
– could it be
We owe it only to ourselves
Not for the world to see
It doesn’t matter who
turns away blindly
But
We all grow, so painstakingly slow
We are
Alive, and warm, and dirt stained
And I bloom
Only for me?

©CM
11.01.2017

‘Allo peeps. I’ve been away wayyy too long. Got some stuff sorted out, got some more sorting out to do- but I’m back! There’s a Cookie dispenser in ye corner, and a stack of poems over ye, and free hugs right here! ❤