Bleedlet's walk on glass & shed our skin,
releasing blood until we're raw,
until bones scrape against the sand,
until we become nothing more than dust.
slit my wrists & feed me nothing but pomegranates;
perhaps i'll believe that i'm eve, dancing around the garden of eden,
wrapping my arms around your neck & whispering 'hello my liege';
choking on cigarette fumes & hollywood lies because 'that's just what people do'.
grab my knuckles painted green & purple with bruises while i read from my journal of pretty words-
deconstruct them into letters & give them personal meaning as i challenge you to be artistic;
'confusing' does not equal 'stardom', sweetheart; no matter how hard you try to explain.
though you did write 'no, no, no' with my name infused within the ink.
let's cage ourselves up in iron bars without food,
discovering how appetizing the flesh cascading upon our cheekbones can be;
let's find out how to shape our tibiae into knives & slice our hair
The Detonation of Nebulaeyou could light a thousand fires in the same room that i sit in & i would still be cold,
though if you brushed ten fingertips against my phalanges,
pressed two palms against my shoulders,
or three words against my eardrums,
i would blossom.
you could type a few select words that would make me blush;
you can write with the crudest handwriting that i never got to fully lay eyes upon;
you can cause a hundred moons to simultaneously collide & cause the earth's polarity to switch drastically as the sky shatters like methamphetamine being prepared on a tray,
you could crush my lungs & clamp my heart between your hands,
holding me down as i struggle to push you away, struggling to keep the string away from my throat,
nothing existing, nothing explaining to me that there is hope left to fight, if only i could find it;
but instead you decide to protect me from anyone that tries to touch
Desiresdon't buy me diamonds, & don't buy me pearls;
don't send me mercedes & don't ship me cycles-
don't order me mansions & don't order puppies
all i want from you is to love me.
you don't need to be romantic & get on your knees
strum a guitar as you smile with a gleam
you don't need a box filled with crushed carbon,
spending your green almost as though it were nothing.
just listen to me cry & don't judge my past choices,
or at least pretend to so i at least feel human;
hold me close & say i'm not a demon-
tell me that you're nothing but certain.
tell me 'i love you' & let me inform you
about ev-er-y-thing that leads to 'sol-i-tude'
allow me to be no more than 'art-i-stic',
that way i won't believe i'm a 'godd-ess'.
twist up your words & fuck the syll-a-bles
say everything ever so sex-u-al
startle everyone so that they won't believe
what they're seeing next to you
be like a po-et & become a work of art
pray at the altar
but no matter what, don't tell them
spell 'poison' for mepetrichor can't consume me, even after the storm;
only the tar that refused to dry, the garbage piling up at the edges of the street,
the corpses of worms writhing in pain, experiencing weightlessness as they strain to die.
perhaps standing in the midst of it all was a bad idea,
for i cannot experience what everyone else is enduring;
everything that could sweep me off my feet & convince me to describe the true meaning of 'pain'.
though you came along & made me heart sink as my cheeks turned to roses,
you helped me numb it all with your sacrifices-
being a martyr against your will
being unappreciated by everyone but me,
slowly accepting metamorphosis even though the agony of it all is something gargantuan compared to nostalgia.
i'm feasting on bone meal & flesh,
shaking my head 'no' when asked if i desire for it to be roasted,
merely acquiring diseases that crawl under my skin-
overlaying old memories with new phobias.
just watch as i divi
Drug Addicti want to be oxygen, nitrogen, & argon
to be breathed in & out through one's windpipes,
discarded as carbon dioxide,
just watching someone choke on my presence & collapse;
their arteries full of me as i flutter away to intoxicate someone else.
i want to be your cigarette,
yet still clinging to the edges of your lungs until they wilt black.
though you can't put me down,
no matter how hard you try;
the pills have my traces of nicotine too.
you did it to me,
so wouldn't it be fair for me to do it to you too?
Ramblingi love you
i love you
i love you..
but why are you saving me now,
now that i'm sinking like a rock;
after he wanted to have me under his arm even though i said 'no',
even though i haven't done anything to deserve pampering & to be treated as a queen.
i know i've been clawing at myself from inside out,
i've been screaming & crying for help in the comfort of my room,
i've been staring into darkness at dinner, smiling as memories fire dopamine at my brain.
though every time i say 'all i want is you,
just for five minutes',
i lie to myself-
i'm just greedy & nothing is enough to suit my abyss of emptiness.
you were smart to say that you weren't going to let anyone drag you down,
so why did you let me stay?
i need to hold you close for right now;
to just spend it all because you say 'it'll be okay',
but why are you wasting everything on me?
do tell him you're the boss, though;
he deserves to know that i'm a 'ride or die' type of bitch & that you're the one who keeps
Spider fingers and cobra kissesI fell in love with a boy who was mute, never said a word. His eyes, cobalt and iridescent and other-worldly, seemed to have to do all the explaining, his spider fingers, skeletal and stretched, had to do all the gestures, pointing at this, reaching for that. Life with him was like one never-ending game of charades and his turn was never over, he could never sit down and watch someone else fumble with how to express something without words. He had taught himself, had studied his audiences over the years and knew how to get everything across with minimal confusion, could make shapes with his hands, could draw on restaurant napkins, could pull his face into caricatures of emotions.
I met him in a bar, centre of a crowd, contorting his mouth into the widest of grins, arching his eyebrows like open umbrellas. I couldn’t understand how he could keep so many strangers so enthralled without saying a word, but then I started watching him and I understood. He spoke a higher language, coul
The Cat Comes BackIt’s strange sometimes how going back to places you have not visited for years make memories come back, even if the buildings or the landscape has changed completely. I can’t go back to the West End of Newcastle, for example, without remembering the large tower blocks that used to be there. They were demolished years ago, but I can still see them.
Why am I thinking about this? Well, a few weeks ago I was in Great Yarmouth, and as I walked to an appointment I passed a house that had a cafe in the downstairs part. It was a nice enough cafe, but I remembered when I visited it nearly forty years ago – at that time what is now a cafe was actually a flat, and the reason I remember it was the two charming ladies I was surprised to find in residence when I visited.
I had seen through the open window they had great taste in furnishing and paintings – so I presumed they would have similar taste in smaller, more portable objects. So I nipped a
Beneath the Skin"I don't understand you," he said to her softly."I don't... I don't understand why you're like this."
"Like what?" She replied, with as negligent a tone as she could muster. Truthfully, she didn't care what he said. She would be exactly the same whether he understood her or not. She was herself, and if that was too complicated for him, then why, he could take himself elsewhere and find some nice simple girl that he could wrap his head around.
"Like this," he said, waving a hand in such a way that seemed to encompass both her and the entirety of the world. "You're... different, from how you used to be. Moody. I want to know why, what happened."
"Why?" she said, with all the vitriol that a teenage girl could command. "You can't know why. The world doesn't work like that."
He stared at her, as though she had possibly sprouted a second head. "It does. We used to share everything."
"No. No, we didn't. No one shares everything. They can't. Everyone has secrets, even if they're so small as to