there are times i think of the sun and ponder
how lonely it must be
to have never had the apple of your cheek
held like an abandoned fledgling
that fell from its nest, rendered motherless
or to have never been kissed,
looked upon with eyes that did not flinch
to be felt...
don’t touch my face until winter, they start
these schizophrenic love tourniquets i never remember writing
like pages in a novel being blown towards a disappearing light
by a reckless, wheezing grandfather train
cold and sick in your spine like shrapnel
i don't remember waking
that you braided, tickled, shamed
shy, fertile orchids out of their gnarled black happy houses
made them learn to grow
abominations snaking themselves around the bars of my cage
like cannibals with river god faces
and the smell of nana’s cold...
i am watching
from the inside of my dollhouse
the shadows are tucked in
on all sides
no one can see me
there is a girl my age
maybe one cruel october younger,
i am stilled by her
her dance is sad,
a torn white veil trailed through moon sand
or maybe a...
This is an oldie... I wouldn't call it golden, but I wrote it in 2006 when I was sixteen, in and out of the mental zoo, and on who knows what anti-psychotic/anti-depressant cocktail... I'm posting it mostly in tribute to Miss Rams... since she's joined our lovely circus, it's brought a lot of...
Watching Plath’s ghost trapped in a Bell Jar
the malaise of media obsessions
of celebrity suicides
like the fuselage
in the wet retina of a raging Poseidon,
with trident forks pronged from the prang...
please die, she says cloudless and eroding from the knees down part monster part hallucinating shadow she is broken silver mirror and torn wings, ivory bone mine my own i’d give her mine, but they don’t fly anymore when your mouth is like a gaping wound, pooling with bacteria pleading to be...
if i could twist pain’s arm into beauty,
it is meant to be hideous
it is meant to shine
only with tears
it is easier to believe
that there is no god
when my hope is bending and breaking
and the clouds
are imitating a nightmare
i think of heaven
Eve naked and nailed as a red eclipse
to a cross of stars black as night.
Tinfoil dragons snared to a crumpled crash
of flaring smoke, mercury oozing silver sky deluge
kissing blowback choke
contained inside a metalloid Elysium, strained in the confines -
Inside the orb, the eye, the dream
Dripping milk tears for memories
Suggestive of the simplistic and serene
Opening up the handbag of light
And she’s candy breaking extreme
With all the charm of a butter-knife
All her colours wet against the bleeding sun
Defeated conscience too tired to...
Today I blended the colors for a heart-shaped face,
I was a wildflower,
the blurry watercolor lilac of heartbreak that only grows when all is lost
shattering the way only love’s instrument can,
without either will or reservation
into a white flurried hades we sank, the spine of...
Out of focus, out of sight
I can see inside the octave valves of equilibrium
Mythomania chugged to shunt wounds
Like juggernaut trains on a broken track.
Skulk-waters; wart to face.
Deterge the skin
of brackish fiends. Old mansion
bolt lifts, floats backward windows
like miasma clouds, dirt
on a screen. Flies quarry
to bone-wreck & diaphanous marrow.
Brush kapok, advance to dance
slurch in the slump
of swamp palaces; moss Queen
Give me new bones to play tambourine
Musical tibias in a dentist's dream.
No teeth do me justice. No mouth
An ulcer would accept.
I'm Picasso in a ceramic bowl
Full of cornflakes
And soup for a soul
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