it is the truth
don't let her
its so fleeting
i can grab
i want its body
the body of truth
it's whole being
and i want to dig down
to its core
weep into its pores
to its skull
down its spine
and cry out
let it crawl
into my skull
down my spine
and let it
from the inside
i stop breathing
leave my body
feed meI want to inhale
mouth to mouth
my sorrows as i
let me drink
hungerthis is a different hunger
the kind where
it's a thin sheet
that spreads over
i am awake
and when i try to remove the sheet
my body wont listen
my limbs don't move
i am trapped inside
and the sheet
and i ache
and the hunger
while i lay
my mind screams
but it is too late
flows down the cheek
of my dead body
it is too late
.Abuse.Broken hearts hurt way too much,
Heart starts dying, tears and such.
I don't know why this hurts like hell,
I hate it when you scream and yell.
Through my eyes, it was all so dark,
I tried to hide those scars, that mark.
Get away from me, I want to be alone,
Especially when you hit me, and even break a bone.
You push me back, as I fall to my knees,
I don't know what to do, how to please.
My friends were all right about you,
But I was lovestruck and had no clue.
It's over now, but I lie 6 feet under,
During the rain, during the thunder.
He sets flowers on my grave, full of regret,
Something like this is hard to forget..
breathing is secondarythe tap water is too cold
to rinse the ice from my throat
and the chill from my lungs
but what does it matter, when
the birds in my ribcage
are all flying, up up up
and through my skull,
and falling, down down down
and onto the floor
landing in front of my feet,
the same ones that
stood me still in the snow
and wouldn't let me leave
to find somewhere warm.
so kill me, mockingbirdi once said, listen up,
because here's the way
it's going to work:
there will be milky ways
and mountains and clouds
dancing with rain,
the sun won't quite
look the same, and the moon
won't seem so dull.
i once said, come closer,
because there's something
that you need to know:
at night we'll breathe
against each other, move
with each other,
and our delirious melodies
will wake the waves
and shake the stars.
i once said, stay here,
don't go, never ever
but here i am now,
eating my words
from a silver platter.
Pale willow girls wait by the river, brides of the water,
Guppies swim through their veins, silver darts of bright pain.
Their names are hieroglyphs of mist, frost and rain.
They walk barefoot in the snow, leaving tracks so they know the way back,
A tracery of breadcrumbs that the ravens will never eat.
Twelve princesses slip underground,
Dance in slippers of tattered frayed silk,
Corkscrews of ribbon, stiff with blood and melted tallow.
They inject themselves with music until their eyes hum like bumble bees.
Then they sleepwalk through the day in a haze of yearning
For fierce wet stone beneath their frenzy of feet, of bones.
When they kiss they taste blood.
They taste honeyed tears.
The brides walk by blank storefronts, by scraps of words,
"Joe's Dry Cleaners", "Nick loves Alicia", "Please, oh please".
The town huddles waiting for checks, food stamps and jobs,
In a boarded up movie palace, the wood charred by some great fire
Black as the ravens that feed Elijah rice,
The Redacted Qur'an (Excerpts)I THE EXORDIUM
IN THE NAME
Praise be to
the straight path
of those who have gone astray
80 HE FROWNED
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
He might have sought
to purify himself - but that
wealthy man remained to
cleave asunder the thickets,
to delight in each brother;
each of them beaming,
smiling, joyful, face veiled
88 THE OVERWHELMING EVENT
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
Have you heard
of men, worn out, drinking
from a bitter gushing
fountain, soft silken carpets
spread, and Heaven leveled
to their account?
90 THE CITY
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
I swear you
are a created
91 THE SUN
(IN THE NAME OF PASSION)
The sun and the moon,
the day, the night spread
Him with knowledge of sin:
"Blessed shall be the man
who kept pure ruined pride
when Allah's own spurge razed
the city. He was afraid
BrackishAfter the wet season, before
the midsummer night's drought,
I flight for the floodplains, where
the northern downpour bleeds out
and sweeps its love to the mouth
of my lungs. I sleep in the crux
of an oxbow, let my dreams flux
and flow fractured, deltaic. For this
is the way I piece myself apart,
a resolution, my absolution
in a new avulsion.
During the day, I move south
towards the river mouth, picking
pebbles, coral fangs from the riverbed.
A loose tooth is a common truth
in these parts. Bones are febrile,
eyelashes are made of chalk, salt.
Tears turn brackish. They cake
and crack on the flats of my hands.
This is my Pangaea,
this swollen geography,
this slacken land.
The point of no return.
Here, all else ends.
By dusk I meet the saltmarsh
and dehusk, grow halophytic
in the nightlight. I pull out
my hair, my fingernails, and
fill the gaps in my spine
with reed rhythms, saline.
The final rite: turning flesh to grass.
Tomorrow, morning mist
will drag the whitewash back,
ashes to ash.
THE RAPE...He ripped off my cloths as I screamed and yelled "NO",
he laid on top of me as I whispered, "please let me go"
scared as hell, shakin like a leaf on a tree,
still tryin to figure out why this is happenin to me.
He put his hand over my mouth as I tried to kick and fight,
not knowing what to do, so I drew blood with a bite.
He put a pillow over my face and pushed down with force,
he entered my love nest, with no kind of remorse.
Crying out for help, I felt so much pain,
knowing from this point on, my life would not be the same.
He's all done now, walking out the room with no shame,
this man took my virginity and didn't even know my name.
I stand up and I watch the blood run down my thighs,
confused, pissed, I can feel hatred come across my eyes.
Thirteen years old and I'm already contemplating murder,
how could he do this to me, I'm probably the same age as his daughter,
I fall down and ball up on the floor,
I want to kill this man, but I can't bring myself to walk out that door,
I lay t
Cutter 'what are you scared of?'
she was too pale to be held against the sun: so she leans against it until you can't see her face.
her eyes were chalk-smudges on blackboards, blurred against a backdrop of white-washed walls. her outline was all fade-out and lace, as white as winter could be.
her words were quiet like stains are, clinging to a curtain in the window. just trying to blend into the pattern, or at least not become part of it.
and when she breathes her chest swells with see-through lungs--hoping that if you focus, you'll see right through her glass skin. after all, she's just a smudge of the wrong varnish in your eyes.
she shudders, and tastes all that's hollow drip down her wrist. and today, it looks grey instead of saccharine. regret honey-fills the cracks in her over-dried lips and ice-splintered skin. inklings of every word she forgot how to say. since, of course, they never made it past dead-deaf ears anyways.
knowing you'll never notice she's crying. crying for ever
domestic animalsour tongues have been tamed
made into creatures more suited for this watered-down wilderness
hunted by plutocrats pandering
their strange brands of truth
but repeating sharp lies does not make them true
yet we're still forced into parlays
with our predators, painted
into clandestine corners and given
soft names from formally corked teeth
it was in that time when the moon broke her silence
that even ornithopters eyed strange tides with concern
withdrew their sallow children from salt lines, and sang
whale songs of incompatability