December 2011
22 posts
I want to live in a fairytale, a world of my own creation. It is often said that the world around us is completely under our control to create, and that we have the power to construct our own reality - but how difficult it is to truly free yourself from the clutches and demands of other people. How do I live in my fairytale?
A world where truly nothing matters except for what I want to matter -...
5 tags
Something I wrote stoned.
And still my mind would float as the black piano keys roll by with the pressure of an over-loaded bicycle tire; you have to push your crank that much harder to get the gears to turn and the trifocal lenses to focus on the one thing that would ever evade your sight for your entire life. The gears are rusted and your lenses scratched, your irises ground down to the sand they came from. Worse than...
6 tags
Caught by the nape end of a hope that never left your spinal column, throw a needle in to draw out the fluids that sink down your throat.
Never knew that the plants had powers of their own, never knew I held the key to a box that lit itself afire with purple flames from my tongue.
I am not ready.
5 tags
Still A Clockwork
Aching for a wound to rip open, a scab to bleed the tears out of like the last burning drops from a gin bottle, heads cracking into themselves, disintegrating skull fragments collecting in between my maw as I chew the gristle caught between my teeth of the fabric I used to warm myself. A hypochondriac of fear, feathers brushing over eyelids, combustion of cries within nostrils and cigarette smoke...
4 tags
5 tags
Frigid Flowering
You cowered emptily when cutting
laurel switches for yourself
but everything sweeter than the blood on your child’s back
rather this than that screaming joy in the boughs
and for them they are absent but for the
traveler lost in the flowers, the poppies sent him to sleep
But I scarcely ever listened to the sons of seedlings
& soul beloved reindeer drowned in snow
and such now the...
Yes please, you treacherous fiend. Sleep is your only option as the metal pierces through your think skin; scream out and the drugs will catch it before it exits your esophagus. Skin peeling off under the perpetual acne; sometimes I curse at the half-man in the mirror. No longer a boy, no longer exploring and risk-taking. Not yet a man, not yet making choices and making the machine that hangs...
