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Similar Deviations

Sutured together by artists,

devoured blasphemy-

hallowed out, & spit back up,

( you are afraid. )

Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;

god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves

grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.

( spread your legs. )

Red-inked and trembling,

prosetry masked as screams

knots into her anatomy.

Written for =dreamsinstatic's poetry contest: [link]

Chosen Prompt: A Debt of Bones

I really tried to step out of my comfort zone with this piece and write something darker. What do you guys think? Did I succeed?

How is the flow?
My word choice?
The length?

Your thoughts are greatly appreciated!

Edit: I took out the last line. I feel that this piece stands much better without it.

featured: [link]
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I like pretending I mean something to the ghosts
who wreak havoc on my bones-
impaling these masochistic butterfly wings
on railroad spikes
between heartbeats and bedsheets,

I got a heart in New Orleans,
palms engraving names like
Juliet, Alexandria, & Christine
on the seats of greyhound buses.

& I'm offering up 102 degrees of skin to a godless moon
as I breathe in her night scent.
This might confuse you, but it makes sense to me.

I'm sorry for my jumbled thoughts--I enjoy writing when I am half out of my mind.

Free write, enjoy.
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Your words tore into my abdomen like vultures feeding on
the raw emotion their filthy wings stirred up from the dust.

My ribs cracked from the blow.

But, I think sometimes
of how these were the ribs
that should have chased you away from me,
quietly wondering how you managed to
slither past this cage of bone and flesh
to engrave your fingerprints into my marrow.

You were sweat & spice & scars-

Your eyes,
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.

(I want my insides back.)

Collaboration with the wonderful ~SiennaRevolution
Go fav hers! ---> [link]
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this is hard for the world around us to grasp:
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.

& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.

but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?
Haven't really been feeling myself as of late.
Words are hiding from me.

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This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.

I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.

I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.

Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
I swear I wasn't going to write anything about space. But then I started thinking about Neil Armstrong, and feelings happened.

Oh well, enjoy.
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Over 1,000 letters have found their way
to the pulsating heart of my wastebasket.

Until you.

You carried them away saying, "I'll use these
to fill the empty spaces of my universe."

You proceeded to tape them to your eyelids,
wear them like Augusts leaves along your limbs.

"I will be your voice and I will sing your words to the trees."
Slender spider fingers prancing across my misspelled scrawl.
I hate titles.
If I had it my way, everything would be 'untitled 1-2-3-etc etc' -_-;

Oh yeah, I have writers block.
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i.   On some nights,
    street lights guide
    this lonely heart
    to her lonely bed.

ii.  In this universe of twilight skin
    & mismatched bones,
    I wonder just how many poems sleep
    beneath the inkwell of her eyes.

iii.  My body is a house of stars,
     and her palms are black holes
     sucking ( me ) into their vortex of


iv.   She says, "Pleaseómy moon,
     pleaseógive these bones a reason
     to stay."

    & I am whispering lovelies
    into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.

v.   "Goddess temple,
     sunset eyes, &
     my windowpane love-

     Let us eat the stars
If you follow me on tumblr, you might have seen the birth of this little gem. And I have to say--I am very impressed with myself. I've fallen in love.
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she tries to fall into the night,
tipping her strawberry heart
like a tea bag into hot waters-
always scolding herself
kissing ocean beds.
Her hips, tides rolling
towards the antagonists
of myths & legends.

with a thousand leagues
of sea behind her eyes,
she will always save herself.
I wish I could see myself as the heroine of my own narrative.
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I've got a filthy mouth,
& a house of stars
thriving in my throat.

21 years

& I still have yet to tame
this grounded constellation
I call my temple. -Slithering
tongue hissing too many
"fuck you's" against my teeth.

I fear I will write myself hollow-
or until my bones are corroded away

& I am nothing-
an insignificant nebula
orbiting the wrong atmosphere.

But, my veins bleed sweet ichor,

& words are only words, Mother.
"Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical." - Sophia Loren

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    these god-hands are barbwire's,
    snagging & scarring everything
    they touch.

    black tongue bleeding sweet ichor
    along the guarded walls
    of skeletal frames.

    'i want to taste heaven.
    it rests there,
    just beneath your bones.'

    he is a god dog
    made of scythes & scalpels,
    sewn together with weak thread.

    and she is a borrowed tree.
    lips that beg, & limbs that snare
    will carry him to his grave.

    'shh, my sweet-
    close your eyes, &
    i'll sacrifice you to the heavens.'

My second entry for =dreamsinstatic's contest:

Prompt selected: Smile like a Scythe

Again, I've walked out of my comfort zone. And I would like all of your thoughts.

Is this piece confusing?
How is the flow?
The length?
Anything else?

Your thoughts/opinions are greatly appreciated!

Featured: [link]

This was also featured in the Poetry tag on tumblr: [link]
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