Another flare, and she forgets that there is anything but poison left in her mind. Four Two. Files corrupted. Can't use the right words. Four Two. Take it. Take it. In bee stings and car crashes. Leave the money you bastards. She screams. And toxin stumbles, heavy as wet sand. She says. Lanterns always burn … Continue reading Four Two
Maybe I’ll never post anything again so I can keep this at the top of my page. Crow, you kill me.
hope is the thing with feathers
despair is the thing with scales
i am the watermelon man
reduced to a slick white rind
my seeds swallowed on accident
or spit into the street
for angels to pick and peck at
eli, eli, i’ve been thinking
some days the color leaches
out of everything
some days the everything
tastes of pine resin
and trail dust
if you swallow a watermelon seed
one will grow in your belly
and then what will you do
always feed them to the angels
with the oil slicks around their necks
i’ve been thinking
It’s still National Poetry Writing Month!
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‘A month worth of laundry and a month worth of bus ride.’ Dang. Check out this beauty of words by the superb, ankandas.
Lot of things don’t make any sense,
my sitting on the incinerating surface of the Venus and listening to this somnolent melody coming out of nowhere.
But it’s moulded with moroseness there,
Raping every fossils of this creation.
Numbness has it’s peculiar language to convey the turmoils within.
I wonder what if, of all people i could ever attain that,
my brain cells know about the guns and the tranquility after every bullets.
Am I too vulnerable to do anything or even to think anything?
I guess everyone is or isn’t.
A month worth of laundry and a month worth of bus ride,
living race only got these to dance through this aesthetic circus.
Indifferent city smoking away the scrumptious craps, honey like violence…and smitten hallucinations.
Thank you very much for this starless spell.
Fire up a match. Share a cigarette and let me see the ghosts in your haunted words. Did you ever think the fight would end here? That we would be caught feeding flax seed to the the extinction of doves while drums cry hawk over the bones of skeletal cities. Fall on foot, foot on fall. I … Continue reading Phoenix fallen
The skies bled dark. And First Contact was unfurled in monuments of intent, as unfathomable in their science as the cold silence that had preceded their arrival. And even before the news broke, we knew they were here to kill us. There was nothing they wanted, the politician said through a firework of light, and all we could … Continue reading Spaceman
The whisper coiled translucent in veins of opal fire, ‘You would walk alone into my dominion?' ‘And you would seek to threaten me with ghosts?’ Jacob fought back a wave of nomadic nausea, ‘Vapors of bad dreams and past imaginings?’ 'Words bring a hollow comfort,' the form twisted abhorrent in its flesh, 'when I would watch you … Continue reading Midnight anatomy
Monsters are drawn so easily in burnt embers and the taste of ruin. And is this what it is to be human? A bag full of nothing but noughts and crosses? Philosophies of ghost-glass searching for that one last game of cyclic snap? Glory chained? Beauty crushed? Alliance written Dickensian in the fear of folding? And … Continue reading Behemoths