September – Nylcajj Hairam

the despair of it all, is rather exquisite.¿the pain-pleasure threshhold- it is ¿mine, and I dance that line with eyes ¿closed now. on tip toe I lean into ¿its embrace, this Darkness, this ¿Otherness that has found a nest¿between my ribs and ripped out ¿whatever was in its way. it is ¿delicate, with its claws down my¿arms, my spine- a tenderness ¿I cannot help but to shiver and¿fold into, a hapless lamb, all¿but clinging to its lapels, a ¿staccato beckoning in my ¿throat. Because I know. I know. ¿There is a moment where ¿I am sunk into, and flung away, ¿A spin into the void, a frantic ¿Breath, jagged at the rawness now¿In my throat. Still… There’s a ¿Freedom in such a free fall. ¿It’s my dance. My dance. Mine.


I want to roar and crash ¿And come hurtling at ¿You like the angriest of¿Waves. Jaw slack, frozen¿By the sight, I want to ¿Watch your eyes close¿And fall into you like the ¿Softest of night rain. ¿A whisper, a shiver, face¿Upturned like yes, this ¿Is the reprieve you need.



I do not want you to harden

yourself, like petrified wood,

in order to stand before me.

(let me see the moonlight

captured between the

vertebrae of your spine.)




you are the thing I fear

to touch, knowing just

how desperately I want

to dig my fingers in and

leave my mark…

are you as delicate as

you look? will

these desires