I am sorry. — There are some sunsets too long to hold in memories, so I’ve taken to holding them in song sprints. Little hums of warmth and brightness cascading between my fingertips as I hold them in my hands. -a desperate watercatch — Quickly now, before they drain out into the glassen minefields of…
Tag: Writing
Bite
You look down and Push your hair away- Like my words. You don’t need my voice anymore. Bite marks line my neck from All your uttered icicle threats. Glittering golden skin And valyrian doom.
Towers
Mixed in with dirt and spit, I made mortar from the mix. Build these castle walls a little higher and keep myself from falling out. — Spitting divinity upon Mans tongue, losing yourself on the thought, not savouring the taste of power. This is the price we pay, toiling in gardens we don’t own. It…
Kintsugi
Mustard seed and adders tongue an empty crown and displaced lungs We can boil and thrash, as you like, this mess of thoughts won’t dissolve. Don’t forget that what’s to come hasn’t come yet Coil around, and I’ll do the same. Wings, black as sin, and Scales glinting away.
Deny
Gossamer between our lies- as we coil around each other. Do they make you happy? Falling against me, I feel you slipping down down into the place that we joke about in between missed eye contact. grab the soil and let it fall in patterns you can never know
Customary
The bird that spoke the apple’s truth feared no mortal. This too will close. — Sit muttering your hardest truths, but only to yourself. what have you deigned today to be but another waste. stew yourself with the bones of tomorrow again- strike from them the last vestiges of flavour. —- He had sat with…
daylily
To our youth, and what ruins lay behind They follow me forever, their cries resounding- radio waves of confusion and anger I am below and above it all. Foot steps pounding through wooded shadows with slime coating my feet — What air I breathe is not actually my own, just borrowed diluted through your lungs-…
i++
This is happening again, and again. Your phases of development follow no linear path. Kanban boards filled with notes of every colour. I cannot breathe in gaslight fumes and spiteful desires without coughing up my own corrupted fears
Apropos
A wannabe bishop’s plea for uttered grace and spoken-for-time. Why’d you go and break it again? Grind kosher salt into my cuts, so at least I don’t offend those above when you burn me through. Real friends or fiends on my shoulders and mind The view from so high has given me clarity. I left…
The long Sleep
Belonging to a snake goddess with heliotrope wings Endless rains and whispered grass notes. Walk towards an end that neither can justify or fathom. Sparks of cyan lit our own embers into halos of thorns and wrenched-loose holiness. What wings we have had are now charred and beaten. The winds not strong enough to scatter…