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goatling94
goatling94
24/F poetry and prose, flowers and ash
come to me, all you who weep, and lay your body down. your tears shall nourish flowers which spring forth from barren ground. confess to me your sins and then, as gentle as the dawn, let mine arms your comfort be and ease your mind forlorn. for i have endless love for you, my sweet misguided one. forgiven shall your trespass be - your weeping days are done.
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Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
weeping days
he stands outside the church in the snow. sir, he says, have you ever been touched by an angel? have you drunk the nectar of the gods, have you prayed at the altar of cherubim? and cherub he is, all golden curls and rosy cheeks. surely a beauty such as this is sent from above. yes, you think, the Lord has chosen me alone to receive His holy ecstasy. so you follow through those grimy streets, song of songs in your head, psalms dripping from your lips. his touch is light, his voice is sweet, and truly this must be Heaven. Heaven is silken sheets and soft sighs. Heaven is limbs entwined, words hushed and the room dark. Heaven is a hand at your throat, the kiss of a knife, oh, it is Heaven to die for Him. he returns to the church to stand in the snow, his pockets heavy but his heart light. some say he sold his soul for the coin, but I think he lost it a long, long time ago.
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
rent
flies trapped in honey narcissus drowning sweating in your hospital bed milk in your veins adonis dying electrodes to your head morphine dreams hyacinthus bleeding bang bang, you’re dead
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
institution
i watch him as he inspects the rose held in his long fingers and i realise for the first time how fragile he is. there are dark shadows beneath his eyes and bruises on his milky skin from my tight grip on his hips when we last made love. his lips are still bruised from my kisses. sometimes he seems to struggle breathing but i can't tell if it's the illness or exhaustion. at night he whispers to me as he kisses the pads of my fingers as he strokes my chest as he takes me in his hot mouth his eyes say "i love you". with each breath he is dying.
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Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
dying love
angels weep upon thy feet thou body posed as if in sleep kisses raining on thy face forever in eternal grace blood of father, spirit and son drink of the eternal one holy mother, purest flower save us in our darkest hour forgive my sin, forgive my lies as i lay me down to die
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
rosary
you sit sullenly at the window casting a perfect moonlight silhouette on the floor your silken curls graze your neck and your long fingers are folded neatly in your lap would you break like alabaster if in a fit of passion i lost all abandon? and would you sacrifice yourself for my sins child of david, my lamb like a statue of alabaster?
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
alabaster
cold and alone i am bruised where you touched me. bees crawl my skin and burrow down to my sorrowful heart. magnolias, crushed underfoot - this was once a happy place - but all that remains is the stench of your lust. i think my limbs were snapped by your sheer force as you claimed my innocence as i cried out to a god i don't believe in. ghosts walk these gardens: ghosts of the children you leave broken amongst the trampled magnolias. i start, gasping for air, choking back sobs. but this is not a dream.
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Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
magnolias
the moon says to me "you are mine come with me come far away" but i go with you to sit on the chalky cliffs inhaling the salt spray sharing ***** and bodies in the rotunda we sit gazing at flowers your fingers entwine in mine your breath takes my kiss away the moon says to me "come far away" so i go and though i leave you you must not forget our kiss in the dreamhouse
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Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
dreamhouse
slender fingers outstretched, palms upturned, your wounds are your stigmata, an unholy ecstasy. alabaster skin stained red, sheets soaked in sweat, hair plastered to your face. how can agony be so beautiful? surrounded in filth you are an angel fallen to earth, fallen to the gutter, fallen into sin. have you returned to your heavenly home? i think i can hear your sigh as you are welcomed to salvation. the smell of your blood makes me puke.
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Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
ascension