an age before humankind
shifting shaking quaking plates
tectonic realms and fiery grates
clatter howl break and shove
tornado spins skies tear above
whipped worn weary stony walls
eaten ashen as if paper dolls
cawing flapping migrant masses
unfurled roots and smoldering grasses
music of destruction
songs of its rebirth
mother of the titans
spirit of the earth
cycle spins again
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 4:37 AM UTC
(written 12.3.18)
teeth bite sour tonic; smells like an ick in the brain
but every time the remedy’s killing, filling, thrilling
the same way the void does
i lick up my pain
we aren’t on the same plane
topography’s telling me you’re on a high in the sky
Icarus but you’re so afraid of the heights, the high
so you remain where you’ve lain
and if we do meet again you’ll understand
my roar, the demon rears its ugly head
snarling monsters need to be fed—
isn't that what you said?
pick up my tears, your fears, peer at it
look through the ribs, between the trees where it clears
porcupine needles poke through the glass
fast, fasting vastly
the lion, the witch, and the rat
. . . the plague . . .
shove those four words in my ears
. . . feed . . .
tell me i have an addiction, i know you think i need a prescription
but addicts have cunning actions
counting in fractions
my calculator consciousness, non-malfunctionable
demons fixed my wiring
salivating at the foul mouth,
i smell it but do not dare taste the plate
. . . neurons are firing . . .
you don’t know about all the horrors i face, caged, trapped in a place
where eyes are yellow and dim, bags purple and grim
snakes out on the limb
i’ll pluck the feathers out of your wings
you won’t need to climb to fall because the sun won’t do damage,
not when i know these things
you are weak, incapable, fell of a cliff
the wind, yes i know it is stiff
but you’ll find its so hard to resist
i’ll disassemble it all, but will it be enough for the monsters?
no, they want more than that
tell me i need to stop
tongue tastes like paper, touching the list
its dictating, telling the good from the bad
but sour lips will never be kissed
all alone in the garden, your body begins to turn rotten
i get to spend more time with the monsters that raised me
they praised me, they gave me
a savior
taught me to rid myself of you
crazed episodes become more intense
. . . repentance . . .
but i am alone in the garden now
demon on my shoulder, it pardons me as i fall to my knees
peer through the ribs, the void
and i say that i am happier
in the garden
among the demons and the dark fruit trees.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
"deformis puella! discesserit ab illa!"
eyes gone pale (for lack of light)
a sniffle is heard in the depths of night.
and whilst the candle shrinks, there becomes
a soft quiver of sound, the voice which barely hums.
"non omnis moriar."
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
mechanical wonders are they!
the greatness of ever-changing plains
withered weathering willows which wallow in the wake of winds,
shriveling, sniffling, cynical twins.
solaris, the fantastical bringer of light!
oh how we lift our faces in your fruit-bearing gaze.
our thanks for extinguishing the inky blight, you have given us sight.
we miserable, entangled creatures in locks and chains,
at the mercy of the return of your fiery blaze.
we rely on Pandora’s final curiosity
and during times of ultimate crisis, we wish for you
and pray for catharsis.
but your sister…
luna, you wretched being, wrecker of sanity!
oh how you unravel the psyche, fibrous ends,
intertwining tapestries meticulously woven yet disassembled so quickly.
we are aghast at the horrors with which you plague us.
each stare through the mirror, reversed pools of vanity
freckles of light fall from their places
on weary onlookers’ shadowy faces
as they melt in the hysterics of your obscure domain.
finally a farewell, an intonation of speech:
“good-bye.”
discombobulated words, addressed to each;
for one sister revitalizes that which the other hath slain.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC