life is messy and i don’t enjoy it. every day,
another wine glass. french names too shy to
leave my tongue until forced. meanwhile,
i am 22 and washing behind the ears seems more
and more a cultivated lifestyle.
you, who still vacuum under the bed, consider the way
the days swell and fatten under the spring sun.
in the dream i am walking through the field by our childhood
home where corn used to grow some summers
ago. wondering as i go, fingers just
grazing the uncultivated grass–if wildflowers
have found their way here, if the dirt knows it can make
something of the dead, if the dead know the field does not
know want even as it wants. in the d…[Read more]
leaving girlhood is not yet knowing to look back
taught the bite of desire,
someone’s blunt teeth, gnawing, and the pain is
newness, you think this is love
a ring of bruises around the neck, you think
the wet heat of your childish name
what stays, is molded
eyes closed i picture my heart,
searching for some glimpse of
the elusive self.
the mind draws diagrams of smiling bodies,
all arteries and gristle, carefully indexed.
something in me falls
through eyelids flushed red in the light,
they tremble as the heart trembles;
the heart, a fist-sized fleshy thing;
the heart, a…[Read more]
@stonefoxkneesocks i literally haven’t written since i left this site so i’m like dead inside lol
self reinvention: i took a hammer to my ribs, precisely,
pounded until my chest was an empty
cavity, dry and wordless. at my feet,
a horrible mess.
i did this to myself;
it was my hands gripping the hammer.
on my best days, i recognize this as a lie.
Hoping to post here again. Anyone still hanging out here?
3…. 2…. 1….
Jeremy and Isaac ran furiously from the centre of the football field, sprinting as fast as their wobbly little legs could take them, and fire shot up into the air and illuminated the night sky. They were sick of the high school taking over their forest. These little badgers started the war with a bang.
Gerry poured every fibre of his being,
From the day he hit puberty,
Until the day the life slowly slipped from his body,
Into the art
Of being a gentle man.
He raised his voice only once,
At a fly that had entered his home,
And the force of his wrath shattered its wings,
And sent it plummeting to its doom.
And Gerry…[Read more]
My breathing grew shallow,
The walls closing in all around me,
Slower than the eye could trace,
Yet my beating heart knew the truth.
Incrementally, one half at a time, I was being crushed.
I only hoped that the walls never covered the distance of the other half.
She knew, by the break in his half smile, but the slight fracture in his completely perfected mask, that nothing was alright. That all was not right. And by her knowledge, suddenly everything became, perhaps not all right, but half right, and it was enough.
He took all of her.
Sucked her back,
Drained her down,
Drank her marrow,
Consumed her flesh,
Until she was nothing,
And he was her everything.
This twisted yin yang danced around the corners of her retinas whenever she left the house,
Hypnotizing until the end of time,
Which is a week from now.
The balloons floated through the air,
Cascading through the background as if they were nothing but filler for a frame filled with fanfare and fun.
The music rang out through the grounds.
The doors finally opened.
The stampede raced through the threshold,
Noses to the ground,
Smelling their way to cotton candy.
I want to be trapped in a picture around your neck,
Even if I cease to exist from this world,
And the next.
Living for all eternity enclosed in your breast,
Stalling for time by your heart,
I can think of nothing more exquisite or worthwhile.
Living life as a memory, my world is malleable, and frighteningly limitless.
He walked all around the circumference of the room,
Pausing to paw at a couple of his favourites,
Lost in the stillness
That wax can provide.
They were forever stuck in time,
Trapped in place,
Still breathing faintly,
As his design sunk its way into their lungs.