Growing PainsGalaxy-bones are too overused,More Like This
and dear, I’m not for orbits wound
around a single sun… no, my attention
is the flitting span of birds, hordes in
migration and extinction; a tornado
of fiberglass ribs, which only ever broke.
(I’m not alive enough.)
divine strength.we're bound by purgatory lenses.More Like This
searching for ast(e)r(o)ids
to purify the lies that
plasma could shoot
from prism chambers
and outer lying amplitudes
of empty brea(d)ths..
i think in some aspects
of this kindred spirit bond
of lost daughters
we have found
the orbiting sun
in each other.
I'm a Mechanical EngineerI've been accepted to the department of Mechanical Engineering here at college! Also, I haven't made a journal on here in like a year, so I guess I'll take this opportunity to tell y'all that I've been on the Cornell Mars Rover team since September.More Like This
Been watching some 'toons, such as Steven Universe, Ben 10: Omniverse, Gravity Falls, Soul Eater, and Over the Garden Wall. All of which I would recommend to people who like cartoons, and even those who don't like cartoons.
Also Agent Carter is righteous.
Not much has changed;. I'm still a studying engineer, textbooks are still hella expensive, and commissions are still open.
blowouts at midnightthe chamber is pressed to my templeMore Like This
until poppy petals fall from the other side of flight
and this remembrance is falling
like alzheimer's and my life
was an amnesiac waste of time and space
firetruck red is blowouts
on the side of the highway at midnight,
taillights lost just over a junction,
the world too heavy with hope
to stop and ask if you left the poppies spread
like a blessing or a warning;
is this memory a warzone
or just the barren space left
by waking up tomorrow
with blank cartridges and bleach-white sheets?
phantom with bed linens overhead,
it leaves both the youth and elderly
budding so the wise say,
but what the closed eyes mutter
in a matter of sputtering life forces
is what oil is to a car
and without it,
it cannot run but only so far
before the exhaust(ion) catches up
in a burning sensation
of never leaving the fire escape.
down the hatch, up the sleeves,
questions tucked like galaxies
shoved like white doves into magic tricks
sprinkled like sand at the bottom of the
fuck space, i'm the elephant in the roomit’s this simple. you only get in troubleMore Like This
if you get caught, but this is a game of cat and mouse-
so nothing is as simple as a political scandal in the morning news
and lip synced apologies to leather bound journals
(you shouldn’t pick from the bottom, dear boy,
for wolves and girls have sharp teeth and wit,
and you’re asking for a one way ticket
on a boat that will sink halfway across the Pacific.)
but even if the sink caves in around me,
like lying in rosemary remembrance,
i’ll drown in the dying beauty
of controversy and contusions,
around the exploding dissonance
of my cacophonous crown
made of false prophets
and fallacious hope.
listen to the little bombs around you,
finical rays of sunshine among little april showers.
i wish we had made something different
for ourselves among the rubble, but
mistakes mold us into future success,
future failures if we don’t move on.
fair may be my advantage, but how,
trenches are graves of conveniencecoiling wonder like whirling thoughtsMore Like This
or revolving doors of (r)evolution
into spiraling depression and warped warmth
suffocating arms into fallen lead.
this gun play is child's recreation
and this idea is shot
by the lack of execution
so i guess it lives on and lives in
distorted spaces and deformed contortions
of bows and arrows or wars
of a battlefield full of minds, of mine.
love and life, growing like a weed
with fingers clawing at every crack, dent, hole
within your reach, they’re all fields to wage war
against someone, anyone who will listen and
put up a fight where one side must always
pull ahead, pull beyond, pull something
out of nothing and it must be creative
to hit the table and cause earthquakes,
to change the tide. it’s always violence
rolling and violet coating your tongue,
sharp words and sharper actions
cutting down to t
allergy medication: apply directly to frontal lobeinsignificant life events scrawled out across bathroom stall doors.More Like This
lipstick on the mirror. nail polish dripping into the still-running sink.
empty pill bottles strewn across the hotel room.
i didn't think i'd stoop back down into the dirt,
i didn't think you'd be there when i dug down.
you think your apologies mean a damn thing to me?
and you're no waveit knots up in my stomach and churns through my veins,More Like This
sloshes in ways it really shouldn't be.
this isn't a case of the butterflies,
this is exile.
you are smiling and you are telling me about him
and i am smiling back, but this was never
about him, was it?
i used to write about bending and breaking and now
i'm the one breaking you; i've torn you cleanly in two
i don't know how you're surviving the storm.
that's all i am.
lacunae of longing, loftiness of wordsinked and reaching, this is my remembrall fleshMore Like This
and if we were to never speak again
you'll find the rest of my bones in the graveyard eaten by a dream
i hear knives in the wind and earth inside me
survival is a balancing act-
a selection of extrasensory impulses
a fracture in late august
a week of kisses
and i am crying out for time not yet lost
when stars collapse,
the sunshine shaking heart of the universe will burn with me
while looking for a silver lining in the sea
on the edge of nowhere laughter speaks with death
about maps not meant for following
when i think about you, i remember it all wrong
maybe you were just a hit and run
strange how the mind fades o