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B E Cults Nov 2020
i jump anyway

everywhere
always
is in the jaws of something

always
is a door to the same place
we have unlearned how to love

we have learned how to run

we have never earned any of this

so this is me digging the graves
of those I will never meet

this is me earning
something
anything
always
this is last of a series that developed itself.
the lack of punctuation in these has a practical purpose which is letti

there is no escaping

-daedalus
B E Cults Nov 2020
bedroom fades back in
groggy eyed perpetual
no need to worry
i whisper to the dust motes
they will all read this how they want
or wont read it at all
so keep dancing
it lends the moment something dead
i can take for granted
as i stumble down the hall
to the bathroom
where i stand and
stare at myself in the mirror
half naked

I want the audience to know that i
show up to any gilded scale with my own dagger and feather
and usually leap into the
gaping maw of the Ammit analog
before the latter is ever placed
in the bowl opposite
my still beating heart

but
something about this go-around feels
a bit different
a bit off
a bit clearer maybe

maybe not

maybe

yea maybe not

and
yet
somehow
another
gaping
maw

no jumping this time
B E Cults Nov 2020
flowers grow from my footprints

hymns drifting out of cracked cathedral doors

I whisper seduction to any and all
stones awaiting the warmth of the
morning to end all R.E.M sleep
everywhere simultaneously

my alarm clock rang itself off
the nightstand a millennia ago
B E Cults Nov 2020
my heart is a billion moths swirling
beneath a farola fernandina in some
forgotten figment finally drifting
out of the immanence i heard you've been
searching for between drinks and pizza

eyes widen
moon smears across a stagnate pond
i bide my time with learning to disappear at dawn

the revenant has my face

mirror mirror on the everything

stakes

what's lost is lost is god is fog
rolling over the sidewalks
in neighborhoods of darker timelines
i might fall in love with someday
B E Cults Nov 2020
on my back in the dewy grass

is this what sky feels

you can have the wishes a better me would've made

i'm ok with it
B E Cults Nov 2020
the world seems far away
the kind of far away you feel
reading the obituaries in the newspaper

out there
just spinning

i trace the door frame with my thumb

spinning
fire spitting out of open mouths
everywhere but here
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