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  Feb 10 Skaidrum
A-Anon
scars, neon lullabies
aching into dark veins
of night

heart, an insect
stuck in the eye--
of the storm
returning its wings
to the rain

the tongue, is noise
tasting destiny
heaving your name
and, leaving like fire
carved by lightning

mind, left to its own
twists and twirls
like a hungry snake, eating
its own tail
only to end
as cataclysmic wasteland

the body, begs
to be free from
the harsh landscape
of language, and structure
dissolved, unhinged
like motes
ash, from cities
without purpose
in the air

all of it because
the questions eclipse
first with its shadow,
then consequences
who loves you
moves you
lusts you
worships you, as i did
i do

the answer
unpalatable, unleashes
a pain of primordial intensity
consuming borrowed life
from borrowed life

i ask for silence
to follow me home.
  Nov 2020 Skaidrum
A-Anon
i was dying
you wouldn't have known
looking at me,
but i was. unmoored from reality of everything.
that's why my drawers were full
of empty bottles and cigarette paper
my shelves, with books
pages turned and destroyed vehemently
my floor, littered
with little notebooks
angry spider scrawls
of all the clamour in my head
living was making tiny puddles
in the sun,
inevitably futile

i was dying, and then
you said hello
your face birthed, David
in me
to all the Goliaths i'd nurtured
you were a galaxy
halting my hurtling dying star
an answer. to my intimate
art of annihilation
i held the runes of your name
as if prayer beads,
tight in my fists
bleeding into a new day
one more day

now you're gone
and i'm dying, again
but for all my bravado
i can't seem to decide
how to end
living, a game
perpetual russian roulette
i'm stuck, spinning
the chamber endlessly
that's how, or is it why
that i survive

maybe I'm just afraid
that death is an act
so final
that i won't see your face,
or hear your voice, and
dream of you
ergo, i hold on
to those beads
just for a while longer.
Skaidrum Oct 2020
how do I fall in love with pieces of myself
that died many years ago?
emptiness hangs in my mouth
like some fickle aftertaste.
and deep down, my thoughts are like
frightened fish.  
i cut the world out of a magazine and
held it in my hands. . . how easy it seemed;
to crush it.  to crumple it.
turn it into heartache origami.
i suppose i'm possessed;
a mourning era––a morning light,
a bowl full of teeth.
i have laid myself to rest so many times that it seems i celebrate my funeral more often than my birthday.
5/20/20
––From some old religion of mine; v.
"welcome to certain altars"
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Skaidrum Oct 2020
i.
aloe vera aftertaste;
as honey drips from the faucet.
let's leave this pile of bones
under the duvet.

ii.
been a long time
since venus asked me to write.
the butterflies murmurs beneath skin;
beneath this milky way.

iii.
**** softly;
let all nightmares bubble over––
––and over––and boil––
as your innocence walks out the front door.

iv.
blow your nose,
sign your death certificate.
tell your mother,
that it never was her fault.

v.
i leaned on the sink,
& took a long long look at the mundane.
i rinse my hands; the depression doesn't wash off,
––and the honey turns sour in the drain.
1/30/20
––From some old religion of mine; iv.
"depression at it's witching hour."
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Skaidrum Oct 2020
1.)  you must hang up the world in the closet and heal.
2.)  submerge yourself in the mirror; make peace with what you see.
3.)  baptize yourself in the bathtub; watch the sins go down the drain.
4.)  make an offering to your body; for you are a temple.  you house a goddess within; and at all costs you must subdue her suffering.  
5.)  banish certain shadows from your body; today no one should follow you.
6.)  sow your dreams into the houseplants' pots; water them in softness; grow with them.
7.)  drink tea.  pray.  worship gentle things.  breathe; without the invasion of thought.
8.)  recycle your soul.  reincarnate into something other than yourself; become more than what you originally had in mind.
9.)  call your mother; or your father, or whoever ground you most.  remind them you love them.  allow certain heartbeats to re-align you.
10.)  and above all; forgive always.
1/28/20
––From some old religion of mine; iii.
"heal my children."
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Skaidrum Oct 2020
dead man's requiem,
how does god weep when he's laughing?
shadow puppet queen;
it hurts, doesn't it?
the grip of life loosening
rapidly, rapid fire...
welcome to the bullet feast.
Go outside and play with time now;
chess with the past,
checkers with the present,
poker with the future.
howl at the sun for a change;
smoke on some of that science if you think it'll save you––
eat names for breakfast.
break every mirror
that pities you,
water your houseplants
with holy water.
drink tea sap.
107.1°
Fever wolf.
1/23/20
––From some old religion of mine; ii.
"the stuff of fever dreams"
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Skaidrum Oct 2020
the sun squatted just over the horizon,
a giantess,
a red bulb;
the pregnant flower––
enabling all flesh;
flora and fauna
alike.

the moon sank her fangs into the sky,
merely a anorexic sliver of a crown,
a knife, against newborn night;
a ballet dance,
eating her own heart out
as the monsters devour
her leftovers.
1/23/20
––From some old religion of mine; i.
"vive la light"
© Copywrite Skaidrum
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