Between Midnight and 3am   
Sea salt and tentacle love letters scatter into my aromatic wind like snowfall in the Arctic. Prevalent. Soft, sweet layers of flowery smoke linger in my midnight lungs. Dark secrets revealed here. Passions unleashed. Blood, bone, twisted thoughts and wet, saturated desire await the prying support of your curious eyes. Come hither...


These ink bled lines
Are not yours
They are mine
Do not steal from me
Or with hook and anchor
At the bottom of my sea you'll be
Copyright Brook Ilges {1996-Present}
Sea salt and tentacle love letters scatter into my aromatic wind like snowfall in the Arctic. Prevalent. Soft, sweet layers of flowery smoke linger in my midnight lungs. Dark secrets revealed here. Passions unleashed. Blood, bone, twisted thoughts and wet, saturated desire await the prying support of your curious eyes. Come hither...


These ink bled lines
Are not yours
They are mine
Do not steal from me
Or with hook and anchor
At the bottom of my sea you'll be
Copyright Brook Ilges {1996-Present}
  Reposted by Brook  ·  4 days ago
Lachrymose and Lies

I may as well be a widow
Clinging to a past love that is no more
The sweetest tang of heartache
For a me, as I was before
It seems like forever ago
Since I became mature
Innocence crumbled to nothing
But a beaten senseless
whore

#whore   #up   #past   #growing   #hormone  
  Reposted by Brook  ·  5 days ago
Chris Fracc

I got a set of big brown moon eyes rising
I'm an eclipsed son
I'm a folk song medley, getting quiet
Harmonizing is hard, when you ain't got no one
I'm harvest crew tired, and fading quick
Had my mid life crisis by twenty one
Up against it by twenty six
Blistered hands and consequence
Bound to ride a mile long rail car
Like my granddads daddy, and West Virginia sounds pretty nice
I never dared to name a son junior
They should get a chance to get it right
Goddamn this relic life
I relish in the simplicity, but struggle in these modern times
Lost in translation, like a pin drop in the pasture
Would you hear my pleas if they were instrumental
I got too much pride for watershed
And my well is growing dry
Perched systems and seventh generation vines
And brown skin left like leather boots
I put a clutch of daisies on the table
In that mason jar, it reminds me of you
Save your hallelujahs for someone more hopeful
Even the desolate deserve a little love too
I wish you were here
I ain't holding water
Like a busted flew, drop in a bucket I hate the rhetoric
And betterment is getting me nothing but lonely, to tell you the truth
I wish you were here
On the porch with a mandolin and my old shirt
It always did look better
I always made the prettiest music with you

Brook
Brook
6 days ago

I have completely slipped the grip
Where there was once creation and imagination
There is dull grays and heavy blues
Stagnant.
An atmosphere who's lullaby is silence
I get angry
I thrash at blank pages
Shatter unresponsive ink onto white walls that have no recourse
Then cry
Then rage
Then cry some more
These days are wearing thin
Underneath it all I am vulnerable and raw
I need you to see that, to hear this, to know me
I want you to stop treating me like I am dry clean only

Brook
Brook
6 days ago

Between earth and sky
I live a lie
Upon minutes and years
I flood these tears
Down hallways and alleys
I traverse these valleys
Out of windows and screens
It remains to be seen

Dealing with grief every day. A burden to carry. A love to suffer. The struggle is real.
Brook
Brook
6 days ago      6 days ago

Soft air drifted in hushed whispers over my still form
A dormant heart, cold as concrete in mid-winter snowfall
Stutters awake to sudden life
Deep inhalation, sucking in the sunlight
Until it melts the numb core within
Wake up sweet thing, the day greats you
Eye lids flutter like tiny May Fly wings
Unsure and brand new

Brook
Brook
May 11

I burrowed down
Kept my head below the fault line
Hoping that I would go unnoticed
As a novice I had no shame in hiding
A caged beast that eventually broke free
Soon the seams of my cocoon started cracking
The edges pulling with such pain
My throat burned from the effort
I was still the only one to hear the echo
From darkened corners burst forth into blinding light
A rainbow of late spring brilliance
Reflected back in dusted delicate unfurl
I was no longer an inching segment
I was a butterfly girl

  Reposted by Brook  ·  May 6
Chris Fracc

There's grey in the paint
No matter the matte I obsess
As I reassess, I only seem to stain
The canvas with a portrait of you
The shadows on the edges
My friends recognize the obsessions
In a signature style
Imprint an impression of a far off muse
Mired in music, piano growing roots to the floor
Sheet music in paper airplane escaping
Blues roll like high water rising
When it rains inspiration
It always seems to pour
There's a black cloud trailing
Be the silver lining
Be the background dancer for the boy
He's a strange case flailing
Syrano stage fright
Lump in the throat, nothing to offer
But a little honest noise
And the subject just wouldn't believe it
How the music spills out late in the evening
Deceiving, like the distance on a map to your foothills
It's only inches in image
Yet I know I stand so far away
It lets me down
The reality of reason
There's something about a traveling girl who comes as she goes
You can't hold on to what won't stay
And you can't paint in color
When there's grey in the paint...

 
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