Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dylan Anthony Jul 2012
The mystery haunts me,
Far too many memories exist without
Me, and I am
Doubting my own. I’ve been
Awake too long,
So has he.

Damaged Shimmer.

I held his breath,
And now I am
Waiting to breathe again.

I’ve found my place
Though, on the bridge
Between here and there.
I do not, and will not, wish
For ways to cross.

I can see the shadows
From the trees rising,
Over the bright green marsh.

I could be anywhere at this moment,
But here I remain.
Dylan Anthony May 2012
An angel, singing
In the street.

I watched her breath,
It did not go far.

Tired heat, Ice splitting,
Beneath footsteps,
Pounding, down
The wintry avenue,

Passing the sweet
Smell of sorrow,

Where the corner Vicar
Told me
To be alone.

I found you instead,
Standing in the stairwell.

Your hair felt like

We spent the day
Chasing the sun,
Through the open door, and
Killing useless beauty.
Dylan Anthony May 2012
I held the blood of
A noble ghost, the source
To works of ******* princes
And hotly discourse.

Your eyes, too old
Like glass, broken.
Cutting across thoughts,  
Floating away, unspoken.

We walked down the tracks,
And we smoked our cigars.
Our rational burning,
On stage for the stars.
Dylan Anthony May 2012
Touch me if you know.
Walk with me
Hand-in-hand down this
Painful, crooked path
Of denial and deception that we pace,
Always paving.

This is my solemn vow
To you, my darling:
I will break free.

Cruel expectations, my only limit,
Not enough sand
To understand why.

She said, “Come on, we won’t
need our bodies anymore.”

I want to grasp her thorny outstretched arm
With the hope for a rose,
But the blood begins to flow and
I must let go.
Dylan Anthony May 2012
The city spits and swallows
Leaving dirt pressed against its lips
The hollow shell consumes
Personality, Imperfections;
Colored veins prove existence,

The city cracks
Open, the streets divide
The human marketplace
Is ever-growing, ever-changing;
Voices are lost in the medium,

She sits next to me,
I look at her, *******
On a cigarette;
Happiness sits on the
Top shelf, sleeping,

She touches her lips,
Feels the dirt, wipes it clean;
The blood in her mouth
Leaks, lingers
Red like a plum,   cut,

She dances
For the people cold and
Lifeless, A product of obsession;
Full of sickness, full of eyes
Watching her move from the dark,

The city spits and swallows
But never washes
The dirt piling up
And the blood strewing out;
Like seduction in motion,
Dylan Anthony Apr 2012
I live beyond morality, cloudy
Skies issue complaints, however
I hardly have the time.

I often catch myself
Staring at creatures.
Wondering where they
Wander, and why.

I want to fight dragons today.
I want to find a voice
That suits me. Grey skies
And frozen cranes, bother me.

The stone wet, and
Broken. Lifeless creatures
Can be neither evil nor

Broken Binaries. Broken
Machines. What glues
Our heads to our

Is there a separation?

Walk down the hall and
Interrupt my view
Through the window.

Focusing again I see
Opaque. Unable to
Look past the glass.
Only up to it.
Dylan Anthony Apr 2012
Blood Red, same as the rest.
I am in love with the woman at the Plasma Center;
My veins pumping, full of minty sensation;
Plugged in, to the sound
The smell
The taste
Cooling the back of my tongue, near the throat,
And the inside of my
Blood Red, same as the rest.
The machine spin cycles, Keeps us
Clean. Blood Red, same as the
Next page