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Vanessa Johnston Jan 2021
in my words,
they found solace
an uproot
purge of wild-powers

why can't I
be walking on ceilings
Rage Rage Rage
tricked to think
the float is insanity

and finally a contact
from my beloved
invisible, unsuspected
desires of virtue
whilst entailed
with sister tremors,
you cross, draw on me,
make translucent hearts
of my wrists

for how long shall
your marks not rinse

in my dreams I am you
and you me
repair my lucidity
as the damp ornate
sacrilege overcomes
all that we've forever
rarely been

every semblance is lost,
scramming towards dust
maybe there I'll
be able to scream
play my tempered,
vicious songs
to earn distaste,
a glance from strangers

fuzzy teenaged tendency
of trailing a
finger on walls
why do they
despise of the essence?

that won't ever reach,
merit a place
at the bottom precious
my box
filled of nick-nacks

and for fewer decaying
fevers and marvels
of eternity,
when keeping sanity
as a raid
against truth-telling

but it won't matter when
the world forgets
and would-be birds
still sing profanities
in echoes of a symphony
Vanessa Johnston Dec 2020
Gushing fields drown all worries,
With only the driftwood of tree branches to consume me

To run on waters so vivid, scintillate,
Surrounded, cherished by the depts
Of fleas and an eerie fortress of trees
They might capture whatever feeling of freedom
Remain in my feet

Lying on a poem of grass and glass shards,
My back melded to the earth,
And my gaze absorbed in ethereal blue
Let the living things feel my skin, my hair, my touch,
The leftovers of my existence

Might I let myself race
With the flight and flocks of beings
Losing, tripping in a whirlwind of sunlight,
Bright beam of joy and fear of hills

Why this adrenaline in me?
Why this rush of floods,
Of pain in my hips and smile,
But never a tear of numbness?
I can only feel
As I always will
Lost words of a spring day
Vanessa Johnston Dec 2020
Rancune,
Renflement d'un cauchemar vampirique
Je me ronge les ongles, puis
Je ferme les yeux
Que vois-je?

L'art
Le virevoltant vert,
Mousse et fougère
Puis le sang,
Une éclaboussure de mort et d'entrailles de poisson

Nourris-moi aux vers
Laisse mes yeux aux corbeaux
Pissenlit maléfique
Une odeur impassible,
Dans une nature grandiose
Quoiqu'incompréhensible

J'inspire la poussière,
Épine d'une plante pacifique, inondée
Au bout du rocher là
À l'horizon

Rejoins les étoiles
La noirceur d'un épilogue,
Continuation de mille contes
Sans transpiration d'une réelle émotion
Remue les orteils de ta jeunesse,
Et réinvente l'univers

Être à l'abandon,
Isolement et sacrilège d'une fréquence,
À pain garni de sucré

J'imagine une confiance
Enfuis-toi,
Enfuis-toi **** de moi
Avant que je te défigure,
Avant que je te coupe,
Avant que je cherche à l'infini
Pour l'affection d'une malheureuse
Vanessa Johnston Dec 2020
Promène-moi au long du fleuve
Inonde-moi à la rive
La reliure du livre,
Mainte fois épanoui comme
L'envergure d'une danseuse,
Déchirée par la pluie

Interpelle mon nom
Sur tes lèvres noyés,
et que je ne manque le chaos qui
m'attendait d'ailleurs, hier soir

Hommage d'un papillon,
Choyé par la lueur clignotante,
Un mensonge, une trahison atroce
Que quiconque n'essaie de dévorer ma démise

Je ne suis que vent, tempête, ouragan
Une bête ensorcelée,
Éternelle à la douleur

Puisse que tenace de jeunesse,
Et crise de nulle part,
Nous entrelace les mains dans la terre
Faites que je me retrouve six pieds sous la mer

Perdre sa langue,
Que sois chose plus pire
Que perdre sa voix,
Et ne plus pouvoir dormir

Toute qu'une brume
Triomphant l'aube, et
La chair de mon sang
Aussi fatal que le sifflement,
Le sifflement du vent
Vanessa Johnston Nov 2020
Iron deficiency and an unbeknownst need to empty
Dig back into the shell,
Flesh form of multicolored spite

I live an all-over-the-place life,
Tumbling and splaying onto the kitchen floor
But I love that of myself,
For I shall always be happy
Even in dismay and catastrophe

An idealist floating in a sea of imperfections
It is my shelter,
By means of harm for comfort
Imprisoned in a loop of false awakenings,
It is only when the sun plays with my fingertips that I know

Sweet symphony of lights and green,
Soil of my existence in an ever-dim frequency
I could sit in its touch endlessly
But would heat still kiss my surface

Open up the blinds,
Open up my legs
And frost will clear all that is bruised
The unwritten maps that are my thighs,
Forever imprinted as a reminder of the river
That overflowed far past the meadows

In shades of white and painted tears
I will bleed
Leaving nothing behind but cold sunlight
Written while sitting next to a window, with brightness keeping me company
Vanessa Johnston Nov 2020
They stole my name,
The gratitude I offered
When others made me feel in the likes of a being

Flow of pure and cryptid in my mind
Blown to bits by flies
Swatting until they fall
In the stick,
Slick tears tangled in my brows

Upside down I starve,
But do not let my satisfaction command your hunger,
For hope might heal a new me

Will my words leak,
Like sloppy ink on the sheets
Or will silence rule in the crook of my neck,
Edging a sob and maybe nothing worth calling music at all

— The End —