Year II - Issue XXII
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i'm a bunny and i hate themI was thinking about that time when
we sat barefoot on that log that
hung over that ledge and I Sunk
my toes in the moss because I
was afraid I would fall
like I fell in your room the night
I can’t breathe I can’t breathe
Shut up shut up catch me
But this time it was a cliff and not the mattress so I didn’t think
and even if you did my arm would probably
That log was also
a beginning and that cliff was (is)
but you didn’t even know that until now
because you’re probably reading this
even though I didn’t want you to.
I took two and passed and then I took three and you laughed
and I clung on tighter to the log.
I smiled and said something about
how this was my religion and
you both laughed
I was really talking
about the forest and the birds
because I think I am one
A forest with birds (and deer and stuff).
You took me to a graveyard
at night and tried to ki
ghosts in the gardenand she slung
her slender bones
swallowed by fabric
chintz roses echoed
on the rattling
in her shiver-quake,
her molasses tongue
around the unraveling
storm clouds gathering
—good for the flowers—
and the canny mouse
curled cozy in some
dusky cabinet corner
—bad for the biscuits—
down her furrowed
when i was small,
she said into the silence
on a paper-whisper,
on an errant past,
my sister died.
and they laid her
on the kitchen table
in her Sunday best, and
her small fingers curled
and i fancied
she was holding hands
then she shook
her dandelion fluff hair,
gave a flutter laugh,
a butterfly sigh
i've got gardenfuls
she pressed a painted smile
to her fading lips
with the breath of
asked about the weather
MelancholiaI crawled beneath the skin,
nails taking crescent moons
to labored arteries,
where life birthed.
I gave rash to skin, rippling in marrow,
bulging flesh and pore…
all to break free.
I laid beneath scarlet muscle
sick with Loneliness: a bittersweet
disease of rusting hearts.
I let it throb, pound—ache,
sulking within the cradle of spine,
rocking joints to solemn sleep…
and how easily resignation
for they were weary,
used to hunching to sorrows
LeavingSoul-burned, I speak
these parting words -
nods, goodbyes, promises,
born of human frailty;
a heart, yielding
to truth and beauty.
Holding me back
is the holding - a life
put on pause, wrapped
in cotton wool. Now these threads
that once bind are pulled
to prosperity, spun
of feeling and new will.
Throw off these naked clothes.
Stand up to the sun, and remember,
parting is such sweet sorrow
and yet, on the morrow,
the worm will break the earth,
and laugh, dodging the bird,
burrowing its way home -
home, where the heart is.
.i avoid the eyes of people when i'm nervous
stare at spaces in between their eyelids
and let the conversation fade
i don't know where to let my eyes rest
when you appear
in my head
around my bones
there's nowhere to look
except through you
one am thoughtsI hate this feeling that keeps arising in the pit of my gut. This emptiness, loneliness, that sends chills up my spine and tears running down my cheeks. I miss you, I guess. Or maybe I just miss knowing who I am because with you, everything seemed to make sense for a while. The sky appeared to be bluer than blue and the grass greener than green; the darkness was an intriguing shade of navy and the light always seemed to be brighter. But these days I just can't seem to find the rhyme.
I am just so sick of hating my life. And I'm not necessarily saying that I would hate it less if you were here, but maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn't feel so lonely all the time because even though you didn't love me the right way, you still loved me with all of your heart and I think that's the most I could ask of you. I think I just want to be wanted and once upon a time I was wanted by you and I think that's all I really wanted - all I really needed - to be wanted by you.
So what am I doing? Why am I sitt
ElegyReveries of pale silhouettes cavorted beneath her eyelashes
Skylarking with alluring steps,
Restless in her walking,
She followed them into the covert;
The hallowed and disembodied presence soon began to abscond
From the wretched and chitty girl, to somewhere beyond.
"Oh, my beloved John Doe, thine sweet redolence lingers with me,
Agony for a sufferer without a path,
How I cry for the immolation of thy memory, to let me flee
Far from the bane thee hurled onto me.
John Doe, prythee!, let us meet once again,
For my wounded spirit would not be able to abide
To a such loss, it will tear me in twain..."
Shadows come and go,
Filthy vessels of smeary and sluttish underthought,
Ravishing souls inside faces of wrought,
Rotten within, deformed and not sought,
She distraught with grief as she did not find yet again
Her adored recollection in any of the new presences
And no new winds can mellow her grief,
Her everlasting burden ...
The flames were raising from the covert,
Her ultimate shelter,
WinteringDecay's lush colours
brighten the cooling season,
herald winter's chills.
Dead blossoms remain,
once yellow heads become husks
of breeze tossed summer.
Not the months alone. These are no more than the signs of those ever-returning cycles as the universe continues in its timeless revolutions. Against that backdrop, the rapid blinkings of the cosmic eye, there is to be gained a paradoxical stillness.
Not that I, or any I, will prove to be impervious to change, to the fitful shifts of decay and regeneration. Rather, the strobe-like blinkings seem to freeze my flickering existence. The candle flame is a process of static motion. I too persist until the fuels are all consumed.
I am warm still. The winter night is still outside.
Long days are shrinking.
Night, arriving early, departs late.
Heavy curtains drawn tight.
Locket Of NecrosisHer mouth taste like corpses
lips closed; graveyard gates
A sad story hiding behind iron
but the lock has been mutilated
...oh what a conundrum
Infected I became by such sights,
hectic pulse beating under my skin
made this a prolonged fight
Stealing this cadaver
has brought absinthe to my veins,
turned her flesh to flowers
and decayed my soul
Her mystical essence whispers in my ear
"Take me, all of me. Indulge yourself before you rot."
I obey her whispers
for her allure can't be denied;
her sweet succulence-my will
Miasma dispersed around us
morphing into a sapphire locket
before falling to the dirt
It opened itself and dragged me in
and I was, no longer...
Brain VistaHe is wedged in every corner of her brain
memories drunk and swam
imagined time, by-and-by
growing conscious there, composed
fine waves slogging for divinity
ever so slightly
too quiet now
in danger of losing transaction of feelings in
the face of all the un-planted
trying to scoop him up
knowing no one will arrive in time
in his eyes
pools of light drain
no proper translation
through wormhole corals
blight, struck gorgeous rhythm
bled from crystalline flesh
mourning him in full sun
by an anatomy of feeling
Silenceit's like water slipping through your fingers
or the stub of a cigarette bud going out
like the color of the sky right after the sun sets
or the drip drop of the water of a leaky faucet
like a roller coaster — only broken
it's a silent cry for help that is never spoken.
portraitselfborn of thunderclaps and rocket-smashes
clattering, cracking for air in black smoke
mechanical gears frozen mid-routine
ridiculed the ghost who lost his tombstone
hankering for a home that never was
offbeat and lost in a land of oddballs
searching for holes in gates guarding the door
singing strange songs for fabricated friends
fail and fall, disenchant the floor people
stranded roadkill in turnpike rush hour
with twisted fates and destiny condemned
easy fun playing the cop on cocaine
each passing day thinking it's happier
never noticing how more empty fills
run for judgments, opinions, decisions
sold them all for free, those futile votes
flip between bananas and nuts litter
reason, sense, and wit worn away clawing
wish for a tragedys hopeful ending
pondering storming off stage with broke legs
deterred by lucky love and true blue friends
rolled up snake eyes with a knife in the back
reach shadows of bursting supernovas
evaporate atom-sized darkness drop
The SpectrumThere have been coloured instances
(the latest one, I think, was grey)
in which I've dwelled, inside my mind
and dreamed of diff'rent coloured days.
I have known violet states of thought;
the blue ones I could just abide.
They lasted 'til 'twas all there was --
then broke through to the other side.
Most briefly came the amber ones:
the sun would turn my eyelids red
but blacker times were longer still
the single shade inside my head.
And only one was ever real.
No other tones could I foresee
when murky hues of brown would glaze
across my ev'ry memory.
There was nowhere to go but on
against a solid-coloured mind
until a new and lasting plain
of singularity aligned.
I've broken though again today,
to colours I have never seen.
Contrasting, blending 'cross the world,
a spectrum full of in-betweens.
A mind anew with sudden change,
with ev'ry sight of ev'ry tone,
a mind anew with colours true,
as they could never be alone.
chasedo you believe
in stockholm syndrome?
& let me love you-
i'll show you how
it can hurt
to feel so good,
how the dark
turn violence to passion.
& i will turn your eyes
a fledgling green,
show you that
pleasure and pain
are two chambers
of the same heart,
of the same being.
do you believe
by the end of the night,
my dear, you will.
Jade Eyesjade eyes
cool as stone
softly they look upon me
starting to unravel the bones
of my body
the fabric world we have known
i see a girl
just a girl
lost in herself
if I pull you out
do you stop being yourself?
if I take the jade from your eyes
are you going to take the life from mine?
if I find the truth of a lie
could I ever say goodbye?
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