One of the last survivors on planet Earth, losing my legs to the ethereal. Shutting my mouth so you speak, bored to bacon bits with the routine.
I understand in darkest moments why the people you trust hide grenades in mental lockers. Only the best pull the pin for others. Duck & cover. Whisking away their gifts in an emergency kit. Waiting for an inevitable result.
I suffocate my need for confrontation. Tracking where you fall short like reading your internet history. Everyone knows you’re a slave to your senses. I couldn’t care less. They pull all our strings beautifully & beauty is timeless.
Why does everyone I love
yearn to become
Forfeit the walk-away
lay your head
on my thighs,
close your eyes
anyway/if it’ll help
The dream you have of yourself
where you conquer this world,
was never fictitious, nor over
across the abyss of dark matter
tuning your light
to human chords
Glassed over an’ fixated my gaze can’t traipse after your fine act, can’t blindly pause this obsession, incensed into hysterics from droll mistakes shortstopped by a smartphone. I’m always on standby. You keep me busy. I’ll try to make this worthwhile.
Technology is our lifeline doubling as my supple noose. Pull the lever, I’m falling up, anyhow; I make love with my executioner. He showed me how to die. It was the last thrill of my life.
I befell him multiple times, always a random character build. Singing gold bird box on the mantle, gothic tortoiseshell and porcelain worth a fucking fortune. Somewhere between reliance and reliability like caring for a useful antique —>
more & more I’m too close now
to tolerate being a moment
The light is too perfect,
& I’ve lost days and nights
searching for you
the finest conclusion
is finding you’re not an illusion
the mind loses itself in
reading nuclear waste phrases
roosting in hostile architecture
& toxic water
I didn’t need to see the bomb
to know the effects of its radiation
I did not have to see you
to fall in love with your focus
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the Hatter’s white hare, unpaid vacation |
sleeves fastened around back
the only one who showed for tea
repositioning my skeleton
ready to spring @
but it rings
leave a message
just waiting for your check in
to the Heartbreak Hotel
knowing you’ll not walk out
the same /
if you walk out at all
AUTHORS NOTE: Inspired by Besomorph
When I stand in front of you know I stand behind glass & walls of invisible barricades always & if I had it my way this looming battle turret would never run out
Codeswitching determinant on the crowd I’m surfing, sniffing mellifluous lines hellbent on feeling the high of measuring up. I am an enemy of my own bust for its age and its cracking.
A seething perfectionist lacking the art of perfection. A demolition I’m too lazy & overwhelmed to repair. Guilty of the easy double standard, livid I am completely unnecessary. God forbid I ever own my own power. It’s a silent overtaking.
I am catastrophic; the last role model you ever need. Apt to pondering if an applauding audience is faking it. Opening doors with rapt knuckles & laying out red carpets for misfits. I react violently with my own vulnerability, I may react the same with you, too. That’s no fault of ours. Abuse is …
the fine line between playing the role and saying the title. Don’t get excited over something so satirical.
Honesty like blood splatter and I’m wearing white.
Sleep alone: you require the comfort of dreams, not me, in fact I think you’ll be just fine without/
What good is lost
without a map to civilization
what is human but pavement
where a brain can scatter like
open jars of silky marbles all across
the barely lit highway
organs dry-abandoned alongside the carcass
& in the milky eyes of the corpse
for some, not soon enough
‘each glitch stranger than the last,’ she said, scrolling through pages & pages of thoughts fired off like geometric pyrotechnics. highbrow on the off chance.
encroaching on restless perusing these rituals embedded in text messages and proclamations of love shy of fifty seconds because less than a minute is all you really need to get your point straight across. thirty gigabytes in a month guaranteed.
vaudeville is gone but its villians remain | are you urged to forfeit everything for aweworthy amenities knowing the responsibility falls on fickle destiny in invisible spaces?
I own many earthtone shades
emulating Mother Teresa with a whip
& therefore hesitate to regale
anyone with my opinion
you’ll freeze because I have the expectation
& I know the right path
to take, even if the way
immobile I refuse to move
under scrutiny/ under surveillance
because when analyzed you may find
my mystical assistance was taxed after all
you may pay in blood
but the accepted amount
is in love
amounts of which seem
none I’d not gladly trade myself
I’m your genie; what is your wish?
Authors Note: Belief in jinn was common in pre-Islamic Arabia, where they were thought to inspire poets and soothsayers..
beings of smokeless flame
so much I want to say
given things have changed
& I feel I’m on this island alone
with a fucking telescope
I admit I swerved the eclipse
because I wanted to sleep
& it was blood red rare, too,
thirsting for lunar ooze
I don’t need your word
because actions s pi ll the same
[ definite ]
& I’m not impressed anymore
I am only fascinated
because they’re repetitive