I just don't look like her.Who,you might ask?The ones who snap photos with camera,then drink from a flask in sorrow. Your beauty,may I borrow?Or will I find it in the mirror?Then my mom came and said to me. Honey,don't live in...

  My heart is a musical traveller  It will only stop when sky strings  garotte me for the final time    Play Rachmaninoff’s silent concerto  along shafts of sunken submarines  tides swollen, coves so wide,  foam from fingers to thighs,  sea vessel yearns to resurface    in your docked lips.  Ravel unravelling the last pieces  of...