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Saint Audrey Sep 2
Fatigued of hand prints woven in the breeze
Corporeal winds tactfully stealing away decay are best left to their myopic ruination
There's no taste in the world beyond dull green hedges

Grown weary of waking, sequestered themselves in dreamy twilight, eating from otherworldly trees, evidenced by the mirth newly formed in their once glazed eyes
Mirth, though a flimsy facade, masking an ineffable cruelty malignantly circling their hearts, invoking fleeting fancy that they know all too well will lead down, down into dark, is mirth nonetheless
Perhaps the sobering drunkenness through which dust soliloquy echoes, sonnets rising like smoke through crown candy, unfurls heightened sensations
Through tactile impressions; how they approach their apex of disenchantment
Unfurling their broken spirits
Where the fay pixies dance under burning sky, their flaking flesh rises like smoke, rejoining a procession of white evening fire
Quivering with their feeding, needles against withered bark against the fire behind, marring the space between hazy, ill defined borders
The satyrs acting droll prophets of ashen groves, places where the soul becomes re-imagined
Under pinprick enteral, a serpent on every branch, danger and recompense united in a cohesive, all pervasive, cyclical motion
And it comes at all hours, and all is golden, all is fire, and all rests on the vestiges of the restless, countless, formless faces freed of their dull, gray stone
Stone of the satyr's legs
Spat between their golden teeth, laughter bubbling below the skin
Burgeoning machinery under earth green cloak, lightning bereft of destruction tunneling through the shadow
As they take their places, with sordid mirth still warm within
Drought of the ageless, apparent calamity reflecting in the pools of reason
And still the dead air laughs

Let them dance the dance of death
In it's pure expression, the tension it creates is seldom contemplated in isolation

I still love you
But no candles burn for you here
Thoughts of you grow thin, as I compose the faces
They're all waxing and waning, in tandem with the tides
Silver flecked through tiny wings
Catching effervescent light
No quality of life
If life is to be sought, it'll only be rent
As it once was, so it will be
Again, and again, and again and again
Saint Audrey Apr 14
Party guests now reconsider
What's tangled up their hair
Roaring gales on the horizon
Ripping tent stakes from the ground

Chemicals strong enough to shatter self assurance
Always in flux, never to be found
Down corridors, through time and space
Just a second to look away
Away and back again
And in that second, she's somehow changed
In time I couldn't seem to do
Anything beyond observe

With his back to what could be
Glass pressed up against his lips
A jester and his kin abiding
Falling through the firmament
Self deluded, self deluded
Only matters when I'm waking
Self assurance so elusive
And fragile in it's nature

Take me back.
God, take me back, and I'll do anything
To quiet backyards
Hidden agendas on a personal scale
Laughter in self assurance, forgetting
How little any of us care
Take me back, I long for
Lightning overhead
Sinking in the grandeur captured
On hills combed over
Dusk rolls in
I'm feeling sick
The longing ends
My skin is burning
Can't stop the spread
The panic rises
This heartless dread

"Dynamics change
People change
But let's keep being friends"

Can't stop the screaming
And I can't stop myself from reflecting what's around me

It in the sense of an ill defined other
A presence, formed from this collective
An awe falling, noticed in rapid pace
And details drawn out through a magnifying glass

To brush shoulders strained with pressure
A sentence gained through it's essence
I can't begin to comprehend it
I can't slow down, so overwhelmed

I long to lose myself in it
I'd give up this cursed shape
To lose myself
To become swept away
A poem about witnessing the people around me change.
Saint Audrey Apr 11
This distillation manifesting in peculiar patterns
Swirling overhead
With eyes that track indirect and understated
Waves that come to slight heads before
Dissipating, I've yet to see them
Break

And there's an agitated dash of nature still
Lurking deep
In blinding, binding, ever present light
In color schemes
That this changing property offers still
Strange it seems
In calm neurosis, slipping through the deep
Brings such panic

A rhythm imprinted in this form
An engraving of the time that passed
Not my friend, no not my friend at all
Such panic, oh such panic
Oh, whatever it is I hold, I've held some time before
What I release, I do so of my own volition
A half truth I'll see myself beside

As I lie still, eyes wide, glaring at the ceiling
As I die slowly, effortlessly, can't stop my head from reeling
Hollow victories
So preoccupied with afterlife; the only meaning I can see in the cyclic thoughts
Entirely dependent on what I can become

I lay on my back
I stare at the ceiling
Winding my mind up
Thinking in patterns

Down on the carpet
Listening to traffic
Grasping at ghosts
Feeling like static

Nothing is concrete
But this feeling so lucid
Demands that I try
To bury myself in it

To become a mold
Static like an image
To hold on this pattern
To hold on anything
Saint Audrey Feb 27
I wish I had your eyes. I really do. I wish I could see all the colors that you seem too. The vibrancy that I've been missing for so many years...

He looked up. Same walls. Always the same. Gray paint, chipping away. Water damaged brickwork. He glanced upward. Same energy efficient lights adorning the same stained and faded ceiling tiles.

One thirty am.

I wish I had your mouth, I really do. Wish I could string words together like you can. I wish I could find the rhythm that your heart beats too.

He looked up at the furniture placed carelessly around the room. It's sparse. The room feels almost empty. A bed tucked away in the corner, half hidden in shadow. The sheets are wrinkled. He hasn't bothered washing them in a while. He's been sleeping on the couch. The cushions are getting threadbare. They were already worse for wear, over a year ago. He remembered what it felt like to drag it inside. How he almost pulled a tendon trying to get it through the door.

I wish I could fly away from here, like you did. Cut all my ties, burn all my bridges. I wish I could embrace the unpredictability like you have.

He looked up at the walls.

I wish I could clean all the filth off my hands. You always did have such impeccable hands.

He looked up at the walls. Same cracks, same cracks. Looked over at the can of paint. It'd been there since he'd put it there. He'd left it there the week before he'd moved in. He'd been meaning to touch up a few spots.

I wish I could rid my mind of these festering insects. I wish, I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Always with the buzzing static filling up the endless quiet, never quite masking it. Always with the static, ringing in his ears. It was always quiet, so very quiet.

I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

It's so quiet. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't think straight. He looked up at the walls. Sixteen strings, dangling down, one fragile spine impaled in a back that it won't fit.

I wish I could see through your eyes, hear through your ears.

It's so quiet, he'd never hear a thing again. Sixteen candles blown out in the breeze. One untouched ice cube left in a glass on the coffee table, so mundane, so unconcerned with the sun soaking in through the window.

I wish I could be as hauntingly beautiful as a raven perched on a telephone pole in mid November.  

He looked up at the walls. His hopelessly outnumbered little diatribe barely holding its own against the cascade of static, swelling, thriving in the void left behind by the silence. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

If only I could enter your mind. Swim through your deprived notions, your sensations of pleasure you derive from nothing good at all. Things we all keep hidden.

He looked up at the printer. It's sitting on an orange crate in the corner opposite the bed. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

If I could wish at all, I'd wish for this eventuality. It's harrowing, you know. Wishing for things. Knowing that all hope has so carelessly been squandered on things you couldn't care less about.

He'd left a soda can sitting on his desk. He picked it up. It's still a little sticky.

I wish I could be as free as can be. I want to be free. I want to be as free as a bird. Not a sacrifice, please.
Saint Audrey Oct 2019
She stood on the edge of the cliff, suspended somewhere in the distance between me and the setting sun. She looked back towards me, waiting patiently at the foot of her elongated shadow.

Her eyes were brimming with tears. Barely visible streaks of salt water already stained her cheeks, but across her lips, a smile. Wide enough to show nearly all her perfectly aligned teeth, her lips taught, almost painfully stretched across her face.

A laugh escaped her throat, something between a laugh and a sob and a cry, cut short as her lungs forced her to gasp, then falling into a spasm of short, shallow breaths.

The words fell like diamonds from her mouth to my ears, scoring my brain with their edges, blinding my inner light with their aura.

I was swept away in the moment, which I thought could never possibly end. But of course it did. And the silence that followed left me shattered and alone.

An escape made in earnest
The quiet upkeep of missing links
An upheaval of something good
To relinquish all sanity
As cracks begin to race across the surface
Dividing the tension across abstract faces
The sound of a jet engine
And the wind that grows ever warmer
The final rays of light
On this endless, waxing summer
In a chemical solution
Saint Audrey Sep 2019
I always wake up feeling tired
Maybe more like exhausted
It's a struggle pulling myself out of bed
Maybe I've got a deficiency
My diet hasn't been great recently, so
It's always a possibility, I guess
I really should go get it checked
I haven't seen a doctor in years
But the lethargy won't let up enough
I feel no motivation
Sometimes, I'll get this ringing in my ears
That'll last for a while
It comes and goes, but
It's starting to freak me out

I tried getting a new haircut
It didn't seem to help
I'm just so tired all the time
dumb
Saint Audrey May 2019
This perfect moment
Slipping right on by
Already gone

I couldn't take it
Sorry
It didn't save it


Sorry...
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