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Golden Ink and Going BackI thought I was in love with that four-year old red-haired boyMore Like This
Shining in a silver knight costume with a black dragon sewn on
Because I was in the pink Sleeping Beauty Dress
I was a good Belle, too
(Back when I hadn't picked up a book
Except for the blue one with the golden pages
Brimming with witches and fairies and magic)
I wanted to be a princess, back then
They were the ones who always found love, at the end
I wanted to be Wendy, too
Because she wore a blue nightgown and learned to fly
Now, I'd rather be Peter Pan, honestly
Because he managed to swerve this whole ordeal of growing up
(And maybe a little because of the flying)
Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,More Like This
[dragon's blood
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
[glass slippers
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
[enchanted forests
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
[cursed beasts
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
What If “If you couldn’t see to sew, what would you do?”More Like This
“Well, if I couldn’t see, I guess I’d take up pottery.”
“And if you couldn’t use your hands?”
“I would play piano with my toes.”
“But what if you couldn’t hear, what then?”
“If I couldn’t hear, or see, or use my hands then I would build a thousand sand castles with my feet.”
“What if you couldn’t use your feet?”
“Then I would roll my body in paint and fly across an empty canvas.”
“How w
PoetryI don't own a book of poetryMore Like This
Although I write it all the time
I tend to think one crazy artist
Is quite enough in my mind
The Fangs I Earned: Ch.5This immediately reminded me of one of those Anti-depressant commercials. "Could I die?"More Like This
"Yes, but it's highly unlikely."
Oh great. Watch me be the unlucky .0000001% that dies.
"What are the side effects of being blooded?"
"Headaches, sleepiness, and passing out are most common. More severe things would be seizures, throwing up blood, extreme sickness for long periods of time, and dying."
"Wow, that sounds really fun, who doesn't love to spew blood everywhere?" I raised an eyebrow at him, or at least I would've if I knew how.
"Maybe we should just go back to your house..."
What? Oh hell no! My brother's room is down the hall from mine!
The Fangs I Earned: Ch.4He jumped in immediately & I took a step to the side. His back is towards you now. Fight dirty & kick him in the back! Instead he was gone, it took me a split-second to long to realize he was behind me.More Like This
His arms wrapped around me like a seatbelt, one across my waist, the other across my chest. I did my best to hit him with my elbows, but his grip was too tight. I did the first thing that came to mind. I bit his hand.
He didn't let go like I thought he would. Damn, I really thought that would work too...
Instead he began laughing. "I can't believe!...hahahahaha...you just!...hahahhaa...like a dog!" He clutched his stomach as tears ran out o
RapHis little girl cry's out in the still of the night.More Like This
Daddy isn't home, He's out looking for a fight.
No money in the bank, no food on the table.
He's in and out of jail so his paycheck isn't stable.
Popping pills till his body is numb,
He swears one day He's going to use the gun.
So he chokes down the bottle, He's a mouse of a man.
He says "It's hard to get by with two broken hands"
He's spitting excuses, He's pushing blame.
But everyone knows "broken records don't change"
So he's off again, searching for his fix,
Throwing women and alcohol in the mix.
Just business as usual, Age old thrills.
Not a penny to his name so
Autistic RapAutistic RapMore Like This
My mum misses me, my family dissess me.
Society dehumanises me. Despises me. Criticize me.
They are fossilized. I do not apologise.
I am ridiculed, violated, bullied. Ignored.
I am stared at, laughed at spat at.
What have I done to you? I mind my own business.
I do not listen. I do not see or give you the third degree.
I am holistic, simplistic certainly not materialistic.
My disability is your prejudice, systemic injustice.
Your presumptions and assumptions.
Intolerance of my difference.
Your misperception I take objection.
I am not a disorder, im not a symptom. Its not catching.
Im not a label or a vegetable or a
re-strangersI can still compose hastilyMore Like This
in a speeding vehicle
when I glance over
and see your face
in a passing one
yet,
no pen is precise enough
to document the feeling
that you left me with
I am not feeling regretful
or vindictive
merely curious
at what the hell happened
that
reverted us
back to strangers
You're My Happy Mistake"So you have no friends, huh?"More Like This
"Nope."
"Gee, thanks, then what am I?"
"You?"
"Mhmm"
You're someone I can't stand the thought of being without. You're someone I treasure, someone I love more than myself, you're my soulmate. I see only you, I hear only you, you're the man that makes me cry the longest and laugh the hardest. You are my everything, without you I am incomplete and life is pointless.
"You're a happy mistake."
Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.More Like This
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high
above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.
I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo
Til deathdo us part -More Like This
Twin souls. Twin hearts.
From high tower, rusty church bell sounds.
Drying out our skin like the paper,
of which had written our vows.
Your face so pale, your wedding veil I removed.
I do and I do
You may kiss,
Our cue
But in separate coffins, I lost you.
My partner.
My other.
My skeletal muse.
Til death
do us part -
Then we married.
That ring bearer, on a pillow our bond she carried.
We dwell in happiness,
through sorrow,
sickness and health.
But why not death? In this marriage?
Until we left, each in our own horse and carriage.
Never will I let one foot in the grave, let us parish.
Til death
do us part
lines of timeat six,More Like This
i took to saving the
pretty pink worms,
cold & drowning
on wet sidewalks and
flooded streets
at nine,
i couldn’t escape the rain
as it poured around me,
blurring my dirty glasses
and prickling my skin
with goosebumps
at thirteen,
i sat in that
worm-killing rain &
wished it would kill me too
today,
as the rain was dripping
down my face,
you held an umbrella over me
i won’t sit in the rain
anymore
Across the SeaDo you want to come with meMore Like This
To the land across the sea
Where we can just be
And no one has to see
Do you want to come with me
To the land across the sea
Where life isn't so lonely
And you'll never feel empty
Do you want to come with me
To the land across the sea
Fighting to be free
To have everything you need
Do you want to come with me
To the land across the sea
If only
The sea wasn't so deep
VerdigrisThe shadow that I cast,More Like This
Lost — or rather, drowned
In the darker black.
Sunken in a fathomless blot—
Watered down
From the earthly past.
The stories it might tell
Smothered by waters in this well.
I take my own little moon,
Carrying my breathless wish — secret,
To light the desolate night below.
What lies there though?
A thousand faded moons to interpret,
Singing a thousand earnest tunes.
Reluctant, I still surrender
A wish unclaimed — never.
To decompose
In the waters — many a dreams
Sunken.
paper flower pressed worriesroughed drips of sun in wet light you bathed there for me to find you in the subtleMore Like This
of sleep like the press of trumpet shelled lily's arms placed on paper frail & shy of thin as
your lungs blanket in a shiver of salt water dream for only arms of Galene to keep wilting,
closing in the breath of winter's cold frame of cypress blooms stealing every little moment
we could have caught in the blue limbs of the looking glass "and i'd like to turn back
time," though this it lapses in a film's negative spectrum the forgotten stem minolata xd-7s
holding quiet, as the window flowers. unmoving with the thyme of sadness roughed like
the arbutus flowering in my hands held them in helpless so but the bless of red cypress,
blossoming grace of august spring seems to be the only language of flowers spoken
you'll ever even k
Adumbrate i.More Like This
Smudging lead flakes, pressed into the paper pulp; given new life, new breath. The page
heaves, its edges crinkling beneath my hand. It exhales, and I can see the spark in the
eyes of the portrait.
ii.
Skin, only skin deep; the scales slicked with sweat, the sun browned at midday, and the
people sweltering below: they wait for the wings to melt, collapsing into trash.
iii.
Until he scratched his nose it was dust. I'd expected that when he'd shake his head and
blink they'd fly, but freckles they were. Stained with the cracks and fractures sustained
from being too pale for the sun.
iv.
Beneath the pa
imperfect architecturedelicate templeMore Like This
your heart is a chandelier
your brain's a traitor
just so you know there is a difference between loving someoneMore Like This
and being in love with someone;
but it hurts just as much to lose either one
weight of the worldand suddenly--More Like This
it was like the world decided that
it didn't want to carry its burden any longer,
so it shifted the weight
into the hollows of my bones
and told me that
it was my problem now.
Angel!NetherlandsxReaderAngel!NetherlandsxReaderMore Like This
----------------------------------------------
You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, even though you knew you would give in and turn around. It wasn't a fake feeling, one you got when alone or in a new unfamiliar place. Although at times the feeling was uncomfortable, you always knew that when you looked back he would be there.
Grabbing the handle of the bathroom door you turned and narrowed your eyes at the figure behind you. Olive green eyes glared back, the owner's permanent scowl gracing his face.
"Can I at least use the bathroom without you following me?"
He paused, then sat on the floor, arms cr
Locked in Eternal StruggleHow I look on the outside,More Like This
Does not match the in.
What are the differences?
I don't know where to begin.
My ivory flesh,
Disguises my insides of tar.
Clear green eyes hide the darkness,
Observed in me thus far.
Crying for a change,
Demanding she see the world,
Lingering inside me,
There is another girl.
Untouched by all my worries,
Free from all my pain,
That girl screams inside me.
Desperate to see the day,
Like a maze in my soul,
She's trying to get out.
She will reach the surface,
Of that I have no doubt.
I can hear the bitch screaming,
She's so fucking loud.
I guess I was wrong.
My depression won't let her out.
Is It Love?If I hugged you,More Like This
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?
Beautiful Today, you are beautiful.More Like This
Your parents tell you that you’re beautiful on every other day, too, but no one else ever does. The only time you matter to the world is at your shows. When you’re not beautiful, you’re nothing.
Today, though, you are shining. At least, you think you are, but you’re not feeling great. Your stomach hurts, just like it does before every pageant. Your dress is brand new, and you haven’t gotten used to the way it itches yet. You’re sure your wig is gorgeous, even though the hairspray smells bad.
Your teeth, though, are hurting the most. You know your flipper is a good one, but it doesn’t fit anymore.
The other girls are all beautiful too, crammed here in this
The Shams of What RemainsMorals are so hard to cling to,More Like This
When everyone's doing drugs.
Crimes are committed everywhere,
And everyone's a thug.
Being a virgin isn't a virtue,
You hide it away with shame.
Yet while all of drink and smoke,
Proudly I proclaim,
Alcohol, I know not the taste.
Smoking, I do scorn.
I shall not look,
While away you waste,
Looking so forlorn.
I am my own person,
And my morals I hold dear.
I quietly sit at home,
While my friends win "Stupidest Decision of the Year."
Though I'm not perfect,
And I'll never claim to be.
My peace of mind is worth it,
So I'll be true,
To me.
The DoctorWhen I was seven, I was diagnosed with emotions.More Like This
"Poor girl." I heard them say. "She'll never survive this one."
I laid with my face towards the ceiling on the cold examination table, listening to them discuss my fate. I felt something breaking in my chest and something burning inside my throat. A small tear slipped down my cheek.
"Doctor! Look at this!" Shrieked my mother, "Something is coming out of her eye."
The doctor rushed over to me and wiped the tear from my cheek. He touched the top of my head as he whispered, "I am so sorry." And then he turned to my mother. "It's a tear. It means that she is sad."
"Sad?" My mother asked inquis
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something thatMore Like This
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
a true want, to have sex with her, and
walk away.
The breasts she has, they gain
stares from men passing by, tripping
over themselves to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex? when will a man
see her as someone he may spend his
life with?
Her hips curve, and she doesnt
want your hands on them, if your
just going to touch her skin.
She wants a man to touch her soul,
not just touch her skin, and run his
ProsetryI can't see the light;More Like This
Does that mean I'm blind?
I can't hear the truth;
Does that mean I'm deaf?
I can't feel the happiness.
I can't smell the new air.
I can't hear the song of the new day.
I can't see the changes that I've made in the lives of others.
I just can't.
And so I'll use my imagination.
I'll use it to "see" the wonderful world outside
With it, I shall "hear" the nice things people say.
I will "feel" the love that we have for one another.
I will "smell" the fresh flower bed.
And I will understand why people hide in the deepest recesses of their mind. They want to hide away from the horrors of the world outside and live in their
Take Me As I AmBeing known as a "freak that wants to be a boy" isn't what I want. I want to be known for me. Waking up every morning and not being happy with myself, having people call me the wrong pronouns; it's frustrating... but at the end of the day, I'd rather be hated for being myself than loved for being someone I'm not.More Like This
The jigsaw boyThe girl sits on the dusty floor,More Like This
Surrounded by odds and ends.
Holding the jigsaw boy, trying to put him together again.
He fell from a very great height,
She sobs for him every night.
None of the pieces fit.
He looks up at her with empty eyes,
The colour of faded blue skies.
His skin is covered in scars and cracks,
Maps that lead her to nowhere
Round and round in circles, like a merry go round.
His soul is scattered around her like glass,
She cuts herself trying to pick the pieces up.
She tries to be distant, she tries to be kind
But in her heart she knows she broke this boy
That lies in pieces at her feet.
She crushed his heart in the palm of her hand
And now she doesn’t know what to do.
She knows that she doesn’t have much time,
Before he falls over this ledge.
He builds these walls between them,
That she will have to climb.
Life has lost its colour and time has lost its grace.
Where his heart was is now an empty space,
Pain consumes his soul.
Its on
Twenty: I'm afraid I'm growing oldi.More Like This
Coupons and sales magazines
have become more than just junk mail
and the holes in my pants
seem more patchable
and I wonder just how much
my sparse jewelry would fetch
if I said I saw the face of Jesus
in the glimmer of my pearls.
ii.
I am beginning to miss the sea I grew up on
so much that I will read bad poetry
just for the mention of a salty ocean breeze.
I feel landlocked and sometimes I'm afraid
that I will never see the world
until I have retired from it.
iii.
Faith says her life is full of asking.
I wish mine were full of answers,
but I too have many questions
and only Time will answer them for me.
iv.
My mothe
Rain, Rain Go Away"Rain, Rain Go Away"More Like This
The sun set as she walked away that day
And it rained and rained for days to come
He became used to gazing at skies of grey
But man oh man he sure did miss that sun
Day by day his light began to fade
As he thought "Dear God, what have I done?"
His own tears would mix with the rain
Because God Almighty he missed that sun
Meanwhile water continued to shower
Throughout this lonesome phase
Even droopy were those flowers
From the bouquet he made last May
He tried to cover his wounds
By changing on random nights
But the answer he already knew
No intensity would ever match that light
Everywhere he went, clouds followed alon
Not SorryI'm not sorry,More Like This
least of all
for nights
like these
and the
pale moon
which smiles
in solitude
or the
single star
which is
my intense
and solitary
spirit...
I am not sorry.
For what?
For this poem
with which
I must atone
for night breezes
that cool
and tickle
my skin...
What sin
is that
that muddles
my mind
and makes
me think
of what
could be?
But no!
These feelings
grow...
I am not sorry
for imagining
your touch
so much
that I
lay awake
this night
and dream
for what
could be
and what
could seem...
It is only
a moonbeam.
Not sorry...
War TuneWar Tune:More Like This
I've got another beat for all my hard gamers,
Rockin' in 'Bloodfall', rank hall of famer.
Arena top ten, I'm the mage known as Ryda,
Got a femmie avatar; cute little strider.
You better come with me, if you want to live.
I'm roastin' up a storm with the fire that I give.
Meteor crash, I'm the king of all the stunners,
You better think twice if you're the knight or a gunner.
And if you talk big all them haters give you crap;
They cryin' on the field cause I bag 'em in the sack.
I'm sorry that you paid, but I went and broke your back.
Cash shop wings; I'll just rip em in a stack.
Cause even if you shellin' out dough to be the best
Tick-Tock"Tick-Tock"More Like This
Tick-tock
The clock struck five
Another minute passed
Time controls our lives
Can I turn back the dials?
No one has to know
I'm just so very tired
Watching the time go
The clock doesn't care
An objects mocks our hearts
Numbers arranged in a circle
Could be wrong from the start
Tick-tock
Hours passing by
There's nowhere you can hide
Before it's time to die
Can I wake up?
Maybe it's a dream
Can I turn the hourglass around
And then go back to sleep?
The sand drips like water
Flowing freely in a space
Reminding sons and daughters
One day they'll be erased
Tick-tock
This noise is in my head
Not much longer now
I don't want to leav
ghostwriterhere, everyone’s pupils are dilatedMore Like This
and skin is stretched too tight
to expose the wind-swept spider webs
writhing beneath their porcelain composure
here, the shadows are afraid of us.
(and it is our desire
to finally come down to that place
of completion
where we
are
simple skeletons
with bleached
bones and
detached jaws)
at night, the rigid ghosts rock me to
sleep. their cardboard hearts and
inky eyes just begging to be seen
(it is only in the
darkness that I am
perceived to be more
than I am; holy
nightlight, exalted
star to guide them
all home
sleepily but
steadily blinking
out.)
the current carries my name,
I have spent
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamMore Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
without gagging;
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
To the ArtistI see you there,More Like This
in a frame of self-loathing
and dark coiled secrets.
Painting a self-portrait
of ill-gotten regrets.
Burdened down by years and
years of -I won't pretend to know.
You play it close to your chest;
wave the world away,
even those who knew you the best
And then the door opened,
like a floodgate,
and it call came out
and none of us knew
what it was all really about.
I saw from a distance
the person you became
and I know that you
are destined for fame.
Our conversations
tend to tilt
to the side of inane,
because that's what we are
both a little insane,
but just sane enough
that we keep ourselves grounded
and I can't help bu
His SideShe said she was leaving.More Like This
What could I do?
She couldn't be helped.
She'd never pull through.
She'd been so dark,
just wasting away.
She tried to fight the tears,
but I saw them everyday.
I wanted her to be happy,
wanted to see her smile.
If only for a moment,
yes, just a little while.
And now she's happy.
That's all I need.
She's out of the dark.
Shes finally been freed.
But now I'm cold.
Now I'm wasting away.
I know I did it right.
I just wish she could've stayed.
God, why'd she have to go?
Each day is filled with dread.
She may be gone,
but I'm the one that's dead.
Not So Super HeroTorn and tattered I've hung up my cape.More Like This
Gone are the days of fighting the villians within my head.
Spandex still in the laundry room balled up in a corner,
this is exactly what it's like as I'm getting older.
The S stands only for Steven, no Spider nor Super Man.
And if I can no longer do it maybe someone else can.
Being your hero was perhaps the best I'll ever fucking be,
but with a burning heart comes a body as cold as steel.
Impenetrable yet so fragile,
you're my kryptonite because only you can make me feel.
These battle scars won't ever disappear.
The memories of the battle scenes just like in movies,
stay vividly tucked away behind m
AdiosIt's six o'clock on the dotMore Like This
and I'm just wondering why.
Was it you or I?
Guess it doesn't really matter anymore.
Because we're really over now,
no more getting through it somehow.
Every time we fucking gave it one more try,
look at all those tears you cry.
You're drowning
and my hand isn't there.
Believe me,
I loved you so much
and fucking begged for your touch.
But something happened,
the sweetness was replaced by bile.
So sour and sick inside all that love turned to hate.
Skin grew so cold,
only touch is my own when I masturbate.
I'm so fucking happy for you.
It seems gold just pours after everything you do.
But what is happiness when you're all alone?
Fucking
broken all your bones.
Just like promises that hang in the air so old.
Look at all the houses,
none of them are homes.
I'm dying to watch you fail.
Crying tears of uncontrolled laughter,
you honestly believed in happily ever after.
You say that you want this more than anything,
but all you do is listen
InfestationImprinted with fleasMore Like This
and rings of darker lights around me.
Rings into my head like a string of
lighthouses
(dark on the inside)
turning and turning like curled hair.
His calender loses days,
my calender.
My days ....
Even blinking as it is,
take my smile --
Oh, beautiful god!
I feel the urge to scratch himself
(myself)
Keep my hands still
keeps his hands.
Years of talking to himself
(self)
years
years
(unhinged by years)
shed into patternless skins.
Where once a man was standing
lie flakes of wood.
Save me from it,
save me, god.
I am the thing that begins with
M
(Save me from it)
Within a woman ....
Oh god.
Dear VictimWe exist in pages -More Like This
on battered broken skin,
ink leaking from the edges
of wear the words carved in.
We exist in memories -
in escapism and lies,
stories told by bondfires
and fabrications of the mind.
We exist nightmares -
in hopelessness and fear,
isolation from the very few
who dare to hold you near.
We exist in not in darkness -
but in the falicy of light,
true happiness is not in joy
but in the freedom of dark night.
The Medium - Bit 16***HIT THE COMMENTS FIRST FOR EXPLANATION***More Like This
As soon as he thought to look for them, the signs were obvious, and they were everywhere. The phone, the television… Everything down to the décor and the style of Kim’s hair. The world had gone smoother, smaller, more austere. The angles had been replaced by curves. The colors were muted. The frills were gone, and the exaggerated flowers.
It was a new decade, fast approaching a new millennium. Suddenly, when he tried to picture Mara, he couldn’t. She would be ten years older, ten years smarter. She would like things he had never heard of. She would be ten years used to thinking of him as dead, if she even thought of him at all, any more. Physically, she would be older than him, now. She might be married. She might have moved out of Abilene, like she sometimes said she wanted to. She might have died young of cancer, like her grandfather and both of her aunts had. She might be gone.
The shock hit him, piled on top of
Remnants of a Fallen CityJaundiced eyes watch infatuating contendersMore Like This
But see only self-reflected insecurities; Sanctuary
Crumbled when buried secrets erupted.
Pompeii's devastation was no greater
Than this clement lover's surety set ablaze,
Charred remains left in its
Wake; mourning the loss of
Something greater than houses of gold. For
houses are less grieved than
Pure hearts turned ashen. How
Can trust beget lies or pain birth
Comfort? If fallen empires rebuild
Will they be as great?
There was no place like trust; its
Walls were the heart's protection.
We used to live, we used to loveWho cares if you love?More Like This
Who cares if you don’t?
Who cares about you?
Who cares about truth?
No one cares about love
No one cares about soul
No one cares, not anymore
You are on your very own
They used to care
They used to love
They used to trust
But it’s long gone
I used to care about you
I even used to love you
Look where it got me
But wait, you don’t care
You used to care about me
You used to sort of love me
You used to be there for me
You used to be big part of me
We used to be
We used to live
We used to love
But we are done
Who cares who you really are?
Who cares about those scars?
Who cares what you have inside?
If
vitamin D deficiencylooking at my legs going I don't knowMore Like This
how this happened, but
god, only I
would burn like this siting
criss-cross applesauce
in the soccer field for
half an hour,
how was I supposed to know
I'd need sunscreen for only
eighty-five and
overcast?
White FlowersThe doctor was oldMore Like This
and had thin old braids
for skin, hard
red fingernails. She said,
it's not that you are a bad woman
but more that you cannot leave
things be. She looked sad
and fabulous, liver-spots
and lipstick, teeth
like dull old stars,
like the weeping boys
who used to love me
and steal my dresses. She said
you are not bad,
are you listening?
and I swallowed, turned
the rock in my hands, said
There are these teeth stuck
in the back of my head
that tell me
I am not good,
I am not good
at all, get 'em out,
and we cried,
thinking about
their white-flower
saliva trickling
into my hair.
sandypost-war mess hall:More Like This
let's feast
on ourselves,
swaddled in our hospital
blankets
and bed-ridden with
pink rot, the stuff that grows
on celery
after the
clouds have blossomed
and been torn away.
the fountainthe first words were notMore Like This
sun and moon and stars, but oh god I will wear this
power like a bearskin - like a drum machine in a chicken-bone
key. carnivorous
instinct is the sum
of all the parts we're too afraid to eat:
black wires, white bulbs, wicks from tallow
candles. if they
would let us, we could make wax
breathe:
we could hunt the essence
of smoking fluorescent galaxies, all our
strange living lives and neon paradises, all our
blue planets and disemboweled sacrifices, if only we could
breathe while below us the round sky winds down
and holds bone to our throats, so we
are spilled, forced up
and wondering:
if sugar were
sweet, t
GhostI can't trust youMore Like This
if you've never fallen.
How can I know,
for sure,
you'll get back up?
10.04i.More Like This
She sits all alone by the sea
before the empty stretch;
whispered winds wandering through,
without any hope
of a realisation.
ii.
The hush of skin on skin,
such submission in her posture
to shimmy past boulders and pebbles alike
into the vast emptiness --
what a wonderful death it is. To drown.
iii.
Wooden clunk of boats
rocking against the gentle, rippling tides;
brightly painted sides
and glowing edges
and well-ripened lichen and a lining of barnacles
which soothes the onrushing memories.
iv.
Gravel-like hiss of sand on the
sloping route up wooden stairs,
creaky, crumbling boathouse;
faded outlook under grey-blue c
Sta.sh
