Year II - Issue XXXII
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haunt the c.r.a.c.k.s in the w do not
l their voices
b-flat minori wonder if there is any difference
losing you or leaving you
it isn't a choice,
for my thoughts as i take another sip
of truth serum,
clarity through poison just like
you said it shouldn't be.
and truth be told i can't tell why it still slips away,
circular logic keeps my eyelids open,
field of vision turning liquid
and i still
feel nothing when i think of me.
CruxI’m only sure of two things:
I still carry pieces of your cross on my back and
lilies were your favorite flower
Those last three months-
A silent drive home from the mall
purse full of stolen makeup
Dinners with my family where no one
bothered to make the conversion
Endless hours spent looking at paint samples
and I was smart to not buy the brushes
The line at the liquor store blended
with the lines on the road
At the same time with you
Then it was summer and you talked me into a country drive. We stopped on the side of the road to watch a cow giving birth in the center of a pasture. But, the calf never rose to its wobbly legs or felt the heat of the Indian summer….it never tasted dandelions.
The mother stood by the calf’s body
long past nightfall
and I stood by yours
long after that
Was this what we meant when we said forever?
Progressionshe fell to the earth in a stream of shrapnel
and stardust in holy proportions; born
of silence and unfulfillment, tumulting
through that narrow area between
expectations and reality where
the pink glaze marred her romantic,
(blurry: a photograph held by careless hands;
a memory outdated and forgotten
and beautiful, once, before
the future fell in pace)
she landed with a deafening crack--
ribcage split and spilling secrets,
gasping for air beneath the surface of a pond
so stagnant that even the lilies withered away:
bubbles rose slowly (she began the process
of forgetting to breathe)
and she was not made for
our atmosphere; the air poisoned
her velvet skin and thickened
her blood-- it trickled through her veins
with nothing better to do, stopping short
of her heart (coagulating in her throat,
weighting her words)
evolution in reverse: she became
one of us.
32you were gone before it even sank in that you were really there.
habit is the worst thing, cause it made me so blind to the fact that you could
just as easily be snatched away from me.
i should have hugged you at least four more times
i've spent the better half of a year being your definition of evil and insane
at the same time. i've known better than everything i've done, but done it
anyway. god knows i've repeated the same tedious/dangerous/stupid
actions over and over wanting/expecting different results.
you wouldn't be proud of me for anything anymore.
but i'm still mad at you, i'm sure of it. if you waded through the
rising tides, or peeled away my blue like old house paint, you'd find something
that screams how you broke everything inside me. and how you were one single event
that taught me that just cause something ends, that doesn't mean its over.
and that i will waste every single change given to me.
the only thing you ever told me that i listened to, was to rest occasionally.
Is the dollar
You can have a
Bigger house to
We have holes
In our souls-
Break or burn;
Lem and the QuorumBack at the shelter, they called him Stitches. He spent most of his time picking up old clothes and such from trash bins and dumpsters, kind of thing even Goodwill didn't want. He'd give it to the Sister every couple of weeks. She'd smile and throw it in the washing machine, get the stink out, leave it folded up for him. It'd be gone the next evening.
He'd cut the pieces up and sew them back together in ways that only made sense to him. Sometimes quilts in bizarre shapes. Sometimes shirts with too many arms, or maybe pants with one leg too short. One time he gave Lem a pillowcase made out of a bunch of leftover t-shirts from a church's Fun Run.
Lem was lying against the pillow with the Fun Run case when Sketch told him the news. Stitches got aced last night. They left him exposed to burn in the sun after playing with him first. Cops found the skeleton strung up on a rooftop. They called it a gang hit, maybe cartel infighting, the way the perps doused him in gasoline and lit him up. Ske
His waterfall hands, exquisiteHis waterfall hands,
over my chest.
aloft hard knees.
It ought to be down the river
seated on that bench
hoist upon his lap
but, we're here,
in this vomit-crescent alley
and I cannot wait
nor will he.
Clouds gap between the moon
which has drooped slightly,
maybe to watch this
Heavy gasps flutter
between dwelling sags.
The taste on my tongue
rich and pungent
(akin to dark chocolate)
makes me swing the lead.
Dragonfly kisses plant
his whole sentence lips.
I can feel myself moving
away from the world
like a butterfly,
flying through years
I love it. This alley. Now.
Fate For TwoTwo souls twined from creation;
forged in Hellfire and Angel-song.
If one dives into the flames
the other is dragged behind them,
lungs filled with smoke and fire
and brimstone dust.
If one gets into heaven
the other is pushed
through pearly white gates
for an eternity of numbing bliss.
One fate written in the stars.
One choice made for two.
An eternal tug of war—
Which is strongest?
If I Could Paint YouThere is heat there. It is blooming beneath a plane of cream. Little mounds of rose spring up and a sullen pale winter is melted by a youthful red. The colour blends upon your cheeks and I laugh at your sweet hesitation. In your eyes I see a green of spring, but it is the spring on your cheeks I long for. If I jest again will I see the blossoming results of my taunts? I shower you with compliments, all meant and heartfelt.:thumb350418419:
Your lips are a soft beacon. They call for me with Cupid’s threats. At times I wonder if the interfering cherub has nothing better to do but possess you and taunt me. A valentine with promise I hold onto every pout and hopeful banter that falls from those delicate sweet kissable disasters. My eyes take note of the flush that seems to colour your lips as well.
Today you asked me a question to which I had no answer. What was it about you that I found so bewitching? But when I asked you the same you answered so eagerly.
“I loved the nigh
I just want to
grab your wrists so hard
that your lovely bones
crack and break
one by one
instead of myself for once.
can we please call that progress?
here is the scene where you save the dayyou want to die in your sleep
not because you're scared of pain
you and pain are so familiar at this point
you wear it's friendship bracelet around your wrist
and send it cards at christmas
not because you're scared of dying
you and death are old friends
you share a love of good pizza
and humanity's intricacies
but because you are pretty sure 'in your sleep'
is the only way you haven't managed yet
and you are all for new experiences
you are all for trying new things
you want to die in your sleep
and you want to take your brother with you
because you are selfish and
you don't want him to live without you
because you are selfless
and you know he can't live without you
you want to die quietly, unnoticed
leaving behind no unfinished business,
broken promises or grieving civilians
you want to die you want to die
you want to die in your sleep
in your brother's arms, in the warmth
and the safety and the familiarity
of something you have always had and
have always known like the back of your h
Sestina: Paean's SonsThe hearts of hills speak often in a hush--:thumb349178915:
Whisper they of love now lost, now carrion.
Without fear, uneffaced, these hills, sans dissemblance,
Raising mouthless voices in greater laud,
Dance now into languor. Thus imbued,
The lightest tintinnabulation raised a paean.
Once the Sons of Adam sang a paean,
Standing in the winter cold and hush;
Leaves no longer scattered, wind frostily imbued.
Trees' unhealthy branches: bones and carrion
Lifted to the skies. Adam's laud
Endless, cold, in frosty air, such dissemblance.
Do not let the bite of frost impinge thee: shun dissemblance
Pointed, falling out of sorts to dirge, from paean.
Stand, instead, now shameless and bring laud
To leaves and fallen garments of autumn hush.
Backwards comes the winter and her carrion.
Backwards comes the autumn bite imbued.
Imbued, says man, and feels his heart imbued
With hearts of hills, a thousand strong. Dissemblance,
Oh, deceived. The summer wind came not for carrion,
Baking dry the bones. Now summer's paea
want me to fall
head over heels
want me enthralled
don't want me to call
you have me on the brink
but I know
that I won't follow
words that are hollow
my love is rational
as a science
as an alliance
or it isn't at all
I love when it benefits
I'll wear the shoe
if it fits
but I'm not about
I'm done with games
I'll set to flames
I'm not amused
but I'm not bruised
I'm just bored
surrender to impulse
if I don't
have an excuse
so, you see,
you can't capture me
don't try to enrapture me
it's no use
my love is arsenic
cut to the quick
it's fierce and fearsome and firm
and does not forgive
no, my love is beautiful
far from silent
in its violence
for you to win
I'm not a prize
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