christofferWhisper

American

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Glueto see something else broken, / and then to feel your own cracks. / the shattered lines that form the distinction

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1.7k

ICUThe eyes are there again / egging for inspection. / Look me in the face

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1.5k

when i dieWhen I die, / please do not put me in a box. / Do not wrap me in fine silks and do not play me a song when they lower my rosewood coffin into a hole in the ground.

39

1.4k

OfferingFeel something i beg! / The camphor in my demeanor tastes sweeter than the salts spread over the eyes of hour dreamers. / Don't trifle, in menial,

8

1.2k

Bearded LadyWomen with beard / she smile gaily at times, / proud of her eyes,

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1.1k

Oh Fantastical NightI wake to the sound of helicopters again. Ive been sleeping more than usual; trapped in this in between state, not quite awake, yet not quite asleep. I stumble through my days in a haze of hash and dreams. Today i dream that im a man made of television signals sitting on the moon watching the earth and sun die. Tomorrow i dream my skin is blue and made of tiny pieces of faberge, constantly in a state of flux. Being shifts and moves with every emotion, displaying its anguish through skin like a shriveled leaf in the relentless dry light. Or its pulsating with life in its heart. Grinding and passing with an excitedness only matched by two lovers in the embrace of a blind passion. They are alive- the faberge that is. I do my best not to own my cube parts as they do not belong to me.I struggle to find an I. Awake i am numb. Feeling has lost all duality and there is left only "a" Feeling. / I wake up. / Stumbling, drunk on delta waves, animal kicks in. Life easy. Piss first. In process of pissing. White dog in bathroom with me. It run to window. It escape.

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1k

a foolIts blinking at me, / And its listening. / Its pondering my friend,

27

860

Infini-DOh mother / of all the gifts you have given me, / nothing

7

796

Contrary to ReasonHow do i lay this into you? / Eye with eyes and ears for naught, / yet i can not stop wondering.

16

769

TheophanyEverything was as it was when was was at its everything. / The prance of the gay and the love to dance had made its way through death and trance. / Yet life yet sprum from wherein it bloom,

15

635

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