.sooner or laterwe'll fall throughthe trapdoor of death
.you break freefrom the grip ofthe oceanjust to die inthe arms of the shorefrom exhaustion
.in the bodyof a dead womani am aliveand kicking
.love like thunder;make yourself known
.i remember the springwhen you did not growand our arms unfurledfor no one
.i feel in a languagei don't understand,and the wings of the bird in my kitchen, theywon't get to feel the sky anymore -and sometimes doesn't it feel good?to put two fingers round the neckof a flower andsnap,hear the petals scream fortheir withering limbs,then start choking(instinct)
.i hearthe sun hisswhen it catchessight of the moon,i see you too, so pleasedo not come any closer -i crack wordswide open to see justwhat they're reallymade of, and i longto do the sameto you, i thinka crowbar is the only thingthat would give youa more open mind, iswing then prise -you laughand saya moth in searchof the lightis boundto get burned(what are you in for?)
.we are allstrayssearching forhomes ineach other
.the rabbits twitchin their sleep;they dreamof red bitten neckswet with spit,the birds dream of their eggscrackedand runny -the mice dream of hearingthat tabby cat screamas the teeth of life ripitwide open
.the moon shudders;silver dust landsin my hair and i sigh,knock it off -what's your problem?i'm frustrated -i've been trying tostrike a match that won'tlight for two hours,she saysyou carry a lighter,remember?
.night stalksthrough the streetsand tonighthe is collecting -i lay my boneson the pavementevenly spaced, buti know that he won'treally like this,my spine whispers,i think you needto stand up for yourself -you bottomless pitof despairyou're hellyou're smallyou're small smallsmallenough to pushinto that lake -i am,i wonder how muchrain i could fit in my mouthbefore it's consideredhalf full, andhow many branches of the familyi could fellbefore it's consideredall dead,and the blackit starts in the top lefthand corner, i see it when i layon my bed,it splits itself fourthe first to my eyes,my mouth, my handsthen my headinsideon the metal, i layin the bathi breathe out and i feelmyself sink(they aren't quite clean enough)
.september -i've been underthe illusion it'sa sundayfor four days,i sit on your kneeat the kitchen table,roll one of thebullets under my fingercold gold andand smooth,do you know whatthat is? -yeahbut i don't thinkyou do - he saysyou're fuckin weird,you know that? fuckincold, maybe i'll juststart calling youwinter -and he doesnovember -they grace me withthree days, and i cannotconvince youto come with medecember -the only time i like youis when you're asleep,i gnaw one leg out ofa trapjust to crawl my wayinto another(it takes everything i have not to smash my bottle over your head)
.there's no pointin leaving the chrysalisif you've gotno desire to fly
.i have lovedunafraid;i have dancedto the music of torturei can forget the rest
.i dug up thepast again, thosememories viciousand snarlingi set them looseinside the houseand now we haveto leave
.she saysdarling,you weren't madefor anything else(cutting this cord day by day)
.my first homeis gone,turned intoa pathway,a thick greyveintrailing throughthe heart of town,i know that i'm notcut out for thistoday, the skya sheet oftissue paper,wrap me up orscrew me upin it, pickone of the two -i snap your smile, hardover my thigh,keep on walking(go softly, past the small graves)
.some thoughts get so loud thatyou cry out for them to leave;they scatter like birds startledout of their trees, before landingagain where they wereand after a while,you just have tolet them sing
It Comes With AgeYour bonesmight as wellbe of papier-mâché,at thetragic ratethey're decayingaw a y.
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.
radiantI am shaking ligaments, tender machinations, unrealistic ideologies of anarbitrary cynicist. [gaps between human sympathyare toxic; breathingis a chore. there is a careful warmth in the combined effort of necessity's unwanted side effects.]we are the forgotten.we are the tangled limbsand childhood stories fora more sensitive future; weare the longing, we arethe limitless. we are measured in the people we touch;and I will love you in the UV light of hide and seek paranoia. I love you in the red shimmer of harbored dreams, I love youin the industrial gl
This Passes As PoetrySometimes I feel,A particular feeling.It fills me with feely feels,And that makes me want to die.Or maybe cry, or sigh,Or maybe I'll just lie.And pass this off as actual poetry...
Behind the WordsWe spill our pain across the pages.But we must smile when it is read.For we cannot show our true emotions.Not of suffering, anxiety, or dread.For we are the bringers of dreams to the world.Our words are tales of healing light.So hide your tears behind a mask,And save them for a quiet night.
This is loveIn this empty roomWe stand togetherIn silenceIn the darknessOur shattered heartsBleeding together as oneWhile the blood runsThrough our cold skinThis is what love is likeTwo broken peopleSharing their painMerging their empty soulsWe forget about the worldBecause we live in a world of our ownUnited as oneIn an illusion of happiness
.not too much moreicicles in the desert.whatever you give me,give it to me undivided.thank you for your quintessence:"if you're out of ordinary,you need a refill."
.just breathing isn 't enough -i need to scream to remind you I'mstill alive.
.and this beating in my chestmight just be the banging of someonetrying to break free.
.i keep wearingmy skinlike an old wornjacket and jeans,stitchedover andover again