Comments Posted By MarinadeMaterial

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She could wrap men around her finger like yarn
String them along like puppets in a show
Read their hearts like an open book
But for what?

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.31.2016 @ 11:11 pm


She was a pretty crier. Sobbing quietly, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes; her tiny frame, more glass-like with each heave. She was the kind of girl whose weeping form could launch a thousand ships, raze empires, and enchant anyone into tracing with hungry eyes the glistening tear streaks draping her face like garlands.

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.31.2016 @ 11:06 pm


I used to call you monster
for all your gaslighting, your yelling, your abuse, and your sick, twisted love

so I guess it’s only fitting that everyone calls me one now too.

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.27.2016 @ 9:01 pm


your form flitted through my curtains like smoke

in the mi(d)st of the morning sun, or perhaps in spite of it,
how could I bottle the vapour of your being into something so defined as my embrace

you faded like fog, and left my side a murk

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.26.2016 @ 10:27 pm


You wear your pride like armor –
Rigid, immobile, stubborn
Fierce to look at, terrifying to fight against.

But you were never meant to carry such weight;
To have your sweat pooling like tears at the base of your baggage.

Lay down your defenses, soldier – you need not fight any longer.

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.26.2016 @ 10:21 pm


Objects object objectively to objections of objective objects

better as an discarded object instead of experimental subject

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.23.2016 @ 10:40 am


She was danger – with garlands, he supposed.

Like a whirlpool in the deep pulling you in
when your oars drop to with a thunk by your feet.

Or watching a car crash happen in slow motion –
terrible, irresistible, and certainly the wrong decision

With morbid curiosity he gingerly took her hand and left for parts unknown

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.23.2016 @ 10:37 am


he crouches over his worktable;
the question mark of his form posing a single question
sculpting his love into the puppet before him –
can non-life replace a lost life?

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.20.2016 @ 8:55 pm


mom goes to the grocery store
turns a corner to see bananas on sale
potassium is good for you, she thinks
maybe it’ll cure the illness in your head
so she buys a bunch

» Posted By MarinadeMaterial On 01.19.2016 @ 8:23 pm

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