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you point out jupiter
in the sky, and i try not to
think about how cold i am.
my ears ring, it's just
angels singing,
i get drunk and act a fool.
i hope you don't know
that you've got me trapped
in your orbit. i hope
i never let you know.
maybe there's life,
but maybe it's just ice
all the way down.
i am simply one of
your many satellites,
caught in a storm's eye
and just trying to keep
my head on straight.
i think if i stood up
i would fall through the floor,
nothing but empty air
and the loyal orbit
of an inhospitable moon.
either way, the sun
is rather far but i know
you'd rather feel
its warmth than anything
anyone would find on europa.
is it too much to ask
for someone to look for me
when i run and hide?
but what i think of as love
would probably be
better phrased as hunting.
so, please, pursue,
rifle in hand,
pull me from my burrow;
at least i'd know you want me.
pretty as a picture -
strung up, throat slit -
anything's better than hiding,
better than a fear
best described as paralyzing.
dorian green Aug 17
all my life i told myself
that i would be free by now -
but the farther i went,
the less i knew.
maybe lost is worse than
suffocating,
or maybe i just
want my mom.
i thought i'd be more
complete by now -
but i don't feel ready for anything,
i just feel scared.
dorian green Aug 2
the scientists called it The Bomb,
capitalizing it like God.
is there anything more
surreal or divine than to
crush the world under your fist?
is there anything more human
than to ascend, abuse, destroy?
do you think they realized
what they'd done?

animal breaks Creation,
adam usurps Creator,
radioactive, reeling, resplendent -
i hope for a nuclear future;
not desolation, no horsemen,
but clean air, man-made Providence.
there's something beautiful about
evolving, becoming more than animal,
living past hope or good sense.
i am become god,
bringer of life;
i want to live to see the atom split,
not for death,
but for light.
"Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds" - J. Robert Oppenheimer after witnessing the first test of the atom bomb
dorian green Jul 25
drinking alone, smoking,
playing dead, overthinking,
a psyche made of bad habits
and a stomach that's always sinking.
this is the summer of silhouette,
laying in the shade, apathetic slumber,
the figure of a man in the background,
counting my ribs and fearing the number.
i go transparent in the sunset -
the sickness is tangible, apparent,
just as i knew, feared -
it's buried in my chest, inherent.
i can't get better when
it's just paper mache and cigarettes;
i pray and pray and pray
but no one's heard me yet.
dorian green Jul 21
full moon, nervous edge, sweat beads,
my lungs are bruised and beaten,
and my heart is made of bone.
why, pomegranates bleed,
sigh and remain uneaten,
calcify or rot alone.

i saw persephone cry
and all the angels alight,
stark and sad in burning flame.
a soft weeping right nearby,
holy fires of the night,
and i swear i heard my name.

possession requires a host,
but i couldn't catch my breath
stumbling through the graveyard.
i don't believe in ghosts,
but the awesome fear of death
caught me lonely and off guard.

i will try to describe it:
in the face of this feeling,
your guts are on the table,
your insides exposed, moonlit,
mine were cold and revealing,
dead, skeletal, and mangled.
dorian green Jul 21
i get so lost in tomorrow
i keep forgetting
this is exactly what i wanted.
i become myself and become myself
til i blister -
it hurts but it's me.
i shed my skin, bite my tail,
and never learn.
i dig my nails under my face and
chase something i'll never earn.
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