.in the nighttime you arebetter; moonlightembroiders yourskin and stitchesyou up with apurer love, untilthe morning comes,the sun runs histeeth through yourseams again, splitsyou open
.the sun did notkiss my skinyesterday, he sleptlateshowed hisface around noonand then went backto bed; theearth exhaled
.when you claim your slotin the ground, it will claim yourbody in return
.i opened mymouth;you showedme yourteeth
.you should haveemerged with life; yourlittle roots should haveclutched the soil in theirtiny white fists, andgrowni did not mean to trampleyou, i did not mean tolet my body killyour body
.she carries more mistakes thanthere are stars, behind hereyesa lifetime ofconstellations,a human supernova
.a scalpel fromwrist to elbow-you will not beliving under myskin anymore
.horrors prey ondreams, and sleep cando nothing about ita lamb straysfrom the flock;a wolf grins
.i wanted to bathein fire; for the amber tonguesto lick me clean, pure
.my head isthe apple and youare the worm;watch mesquirm
.little robin, wingsoutstretched in the dirt, a smearof red on your breast
.the sea spitsme back ontothe shore -the waves saythis is not theright tide, theright time
.a spider weaveshis silver lies on myfront door, and iwalk right in;the flies laugh
.she calls down angelsjust to burn theirrighteous wings,to see them rise thenfall, those flailingdovesshe tells them, thisis what it's liketo be humanand they say judgementwill arrive for you, mygirl, you will becleansed by burninglightand i strike another match
.i dug up thepast again, thosememories viciousand snarlingi set them looseinside the houseand now we haveto leave
.is it worse tohear a truth,or give oneto tell a lie,or live one
.i will notlove for fearof losingand if afondnessshould creepthrough likeivy, i'll cut itback
.tiny heart drummingin your chest, i canhear youred gravy pumpingin your veins, i cansmell youyou are such a freshmeal, and i can almosttaste you
I was never a writer. I: Halfsleeper I fell in love, once.A snowstorm melting from my hair - dripping cataract: diluted coffee. A dark room filled with languageso beautiful, I almost understood what was said.Children are getting younger, and this land has no end, where do you rest your head?All things are in a constant state of vibration, a harmony in the space between our fingers. our hands. I’ve only ever stopped to listen
all of your lives have been addictsmy cathas turnedmy front porchinto a graveyardas if to say:this is what we needbut tonightshe tried to lick my clawsback to hands& I said to her:"I do not have 9 livesto spend on the bathroom floorwith 13-hour insomniacan't we just kill the mockingbirdspull the concreteout of our throats& get this dyingover withalready"butshe's got 8 lives down& doesn't answer questions twice
If Winter Should Take YouThe heart of autumnpleads for one more leaf to fall.Before snow envelops it.
lung canceri will die with your name on my lipsbecause there is nothing else i'll need to say.you are my coffin, my funeral pyre.as my bones disintegrate, popping and snapping,you will greedily swallow my ashesuntil nothing is left of me but secondhand smoke.i've danced with you, love, across hospital tile,the scent of antiseptic cloying as valentine's chocolate.you dipped me into unconsciousness,and i willingly closed my eyes.the intrusion of your scalpel teeth no longer scares me.you, my rigor mortis soul mate, always take me under.your tent of frostbitten shelter pulls me down, an anchor,while i gag on pills too abstract to save me.forgive me, lungs, of my cigarette abuse,but i've found happiness in a reaper's cloak.i find comfort in these carcinogens.i've made my nest in a swaying tree,my body destroyed by the nauseous rocking.they smile at me with pity in their eyes,scribbling nonsense on those jaw-like clipboards.their crisp, stark white world still has faith in me,yet
Metaphorically SpeakingPeople are like books;full of stories and easilybroken at the spine.
Shy TruthsI spilled a cup of oceanand opened my handshoping to catch the truth.Empty seashells,broken clams,and a palm-fullof worn pebbleswere all I caught.I guessthe truthis shy.
seastormI,a wreck-age wearingat the sea(m)sof tidal vacancy;I am the ocean, andthe moon hasforsaken me.tocling to reason,I stumbled onabsence stagnant,abrupt. bedridden yetever chas(m)ing, I fell to salt-soakedground from adon’t-leaveprecipice.threewords were all it tookbut all you do is take.I am wakingand I am shakentsunami waves that breakin empty frantic fury;you aregoneforthe briefest reposeor instant of stillness,I yearn; insteadI am abandoned by language,I am bound to languish beneathmountainous (n)ever-resttempests that swell,that quelleven the most desperate of breaksfor the shore.
JoyMay life whisperjoy through your veinsbefore lidding your eyes.
The Heart of the SunWhen stars shatter and comets coursealongside an archipelago, amurmur may press cosmic pinsbeneath my bones. Novas negate,cause the cazimi to crack,I am not able to loose loveupon unraveled stellar streams.-----Youare agalactictide, brushing myplanets with cosmic dust in hopes I will choke.-----The universe iscollapsing inside of me,I feel much too small.
.the oaks crouch to greetme, i sit with the ferns andthe forest listens
welcome and fellow deviant Brownhaired maiden suggestedI check out your works.
would you mind if added you sometime ?