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3.8k · Jul 2013
La Jongleuse Jul 2013
******* has no calories

yet it keeps you from dreams

& sometimes i feel that i may never fall asleep

& other times, I feel that I may never awake
1.7k · May 2013
props to a performance
La Jongleuse May 2013
Orange peels,
an overstuffed ash-tray,
empty wrappers,
for those capsules
that wake & then
those that hypnotise.
Swallow smoke.

That bitter black drink,
keeps me confident,
that I’m alive.
My heart rattles
in its calcium cage.
Despite the voice
that beckons
“Why go on?”

The looking glass lies
I feel like holding my breath
until I burst…
I feel like wasting away.
Let me shrink
Let me fade away.
Or pass in some
spectacular manner

Orange peels,
Cigarette butts,
Missed phone calls.
***** sheets.
Trembling up to my fingertips.
A seamless motion-
hand to mouth
Always hand to mouth

These are my props,
this is my performance
in permenance.
Oh how I grow tired
Of singing the same old song.
Oh how I grow tired
of singing
La Jongleuse Jan 2014
It’s only ever once
I’m inside the box
of your mind
that my tongue turns
misty blue
and in small whispers,
I pass away,
dying in some nonchalant way.
Oh how the days race on by
and how you pretend not to notice
that I’ve got my eagle eyes on you.

Easy shells,
we’ve made a mockery
of legitimate feelings
but I cannot deny such vraisemblance

You are a beach
in September,
or a summer in
rigor mortis.
I think we were both dead
when we met,
only just beginning to beg for rebirth
and I brought you maps of no-man’s land
so now here we are

Stuck in the mud
of a pneumonatic love.
I will always be the coughing Queen of Anomie
and you’ve still yet to unleash
your lungs.
1.5k · Feb 2014
Elysian economics
La Jongleuse Feb 2014
We just swallow & stitch on
flimsy pharmaceutical feathers,
with gobs of spit and wax.

We circle the sun
hoping this simulacrum,
weighs more than a hedon

We practice ephemeral mechanics,
only with bridges on the river Styx,
then wonder why winter never seems to end.
1.5k · Mar 2013
the alchemist
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
i wish i were a chemist,
so that i could hypothesize
& limit my attempts &
my experiments in futility

so that maybe, I could
tell you that your mere
presence was a catalyst
to my volatile elements

provoking reactions,
left & right, endless
explosions in my head
& mostly, in my chest

or that you tasted like a
antidote to the mundane
bringing me back from
this quiet complacence

i could drink your tonic,
swallow your smoke,
& devour your scraps
like a starving bulimic

or how your poison
made me slip, drip like
mercury, through your
skillful & soft fingertips

like sodium, this persistent
salt that refuses to quit
from my veins, a reserve
remains after the detox

or why i would oscilliate
between the alkaline &  
the acidic, never quite
stabilizing at a safe degree

if i had know all this,
i would not have played
alchemist, concocting
a worthless elixir of life
1.4k · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
your skin is so young

almost like you’ve never

been to those places

your eyes tell me of
1.2k · Apr 2013
me: mae
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
I am cigarettes, chocolate & cotton
The things that melt, not what freezes,
I have no patience & I won’t spare your feelings,

My skin is a canvas, it’s never empty
Bruises in water color, blood in ink,
Grace in the day, destruction at night

Selfish, megalomaniac & narcissistic
Not a shred of sympathy but empathy that’s endless
I have spent my entire life trying to get out of my body

Live outside my mind at all times,
repression, displacement, denial : defense
my anger consumes me & i can't see why

I have spent the last decade puking
my sexuality is twisted & it’s always been about power
tug of war, to keep the upper hand & keep them down

In the mirror, I see myself at 2 years old,
singing & kissing my sister on the forehead
& then pushing her into Christmas trees

I am open, gentle, loving, creative & kind.
A picture of fragility & resilience
So blinded in the light of this life

Forgive but never forget
& such grudges kind of weigh me down
I’m just scared they’ll all do it again & I’ll be the Fool

My mother has only slept, ate, drank, spent her way through life
When I’m really strong, I’ll let her off for that but right now,
I just can’t

I have always wondered why I was not like the others
& then I decided I didn’t want to be
they are puddles & I am a lake:

I’d rather swim, & risk drowning
than never see the depths of my being
1.2k · Jan 2014
pretty patience
La Jongleuse Jan 2014
In a haven of cotton and chiming clocks,
I whisper to you that there will be time
& time again, to talk of our troubles
that hang around like ghosts
in the back of an empty apartment.

You leave empty jars
scattered amongst the books
and unlikely photos that remove you
from the stiffling four walls
you’ve come to call home.

You dream of certain travel
in faraway lands where
they do not speak your tongue,
whilst your own, buzzes and breaks
like electric cables in a summer storm.

I have precisely one thousand questions,
and a hunger to know what haunts
you when you are left to your mind
and it’s scheming devices
but I find the back of your hand
too soft to think of anything but touching.

I taste your lips on the back of my neck,
not knowing whether my body trembles
because of the night’s intruding cold
or rather that I am anxious
for this velvet moment to last,
having never felt such tender thoughts

Your emerald eyes scream urgency,
and I whisper to you that there will be time
& time again to talk of our troubles
1.2k · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
retour au blanc
au banal
au bon sens
au commun

j’ai pas pris
de plan
je connais
le terrain
1.2k · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
In the morning, your hands always shake as you take the spoon to stir your instant coffee. You look down at the sink and I can see that you’re somewhere far away from me in this room.  It’s funny how close of an eye you keep on the clock, as if you’re waiting for a certain hour that’ll be the savior of you. That hour never strikes and you are always turning your watch incessantly.

In bed, when you roll over and face the wall, my own stomach fills up with a sort of self-disgust so repulsive that I’m really not sure how I managed to swallow it in the first place. You keep your distance and I’m forever trying to bridge the gap. I’ll never get there; I’ll never get to you because my glory is wasted on you.  And I only ever feel like a fool for contenting myself to feast on disappointment every time I see you.  

But I come back because I’ve got my issues too.  All the others, I can’t even give the time of day because I learned as a child, that love is conditional and that when it disappears, it always comes back stronger no matter how ephemeral. I’ve been addicted to these sparks my entire life.

Sure, I could say that there is something between us but your love (or whatever the hell it is that you’re feeling), dies the second your feet hit the floorboards at the foot of your bed.  You feed me scraps and I’m always starving for more.  

            You check the clock once again and then you look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s time to go. I gather my things, kiss you on the mouth and step out in to the world, carrying you and your disease in my rib cage like a contagious cancer.
short story, prose,
1.2k · Aug 2013
La Jongleuse Aug 2013
Oh this felt-lined heart,
with all that cotton bloom filling
maybe I’ve grown some soft once again

In time, the mossy dank dark
shrunk as if the sun exploded
& chased down its rentless rays

Think of the hands of the clock
Thinking of his hands
& all that empty tenderness

The thing about exploding
is that no one puts you back together
& ragdoll courage will be all you’ve got
1.2k · Mar 2013
le beau garçon
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
tu es ravissant
merveilleux même
quand tu ris,
j'ai entendu des fleurs
en pleine floraison
dans ma tête

j'espère que tu
n’arrêtes jamais
de rire comme ça

ce jour-ci,
aux pays de la
Belle aux bois dormant,
je me sentais vivante,
électrique même

l'énergie que tu
dégages: énorme
je veux te rendre
la même chose,
me brancher
à ta prise

j'ai pas osé
regarder ta bouche
ta parole a été
vraiment trop belle

cette voix grave
et tes yeux clairs
ta joie de vivre

j'ai même pas pensé au sexe

l'autoroute de ton cerveau,
cet esprit affamé,

ne change absolument rien!
1.2k · Jul 2013
La Jongleuse Jul 2013
I ran away with my resentment
Hypocrisy bred under my skin
infecting my chest cavity
& weighing it down.

I suppose I smoke now
to try & aerate my ribcage.
I'm sorry that I took off
that day in February & never returned.
(even you didn't deserve that)

Somewhere between life & death,
Somewhere between hate & love,
Lie my thoughts
I see that vast abyss in your eyes.

I cannot swallow emptiness
& no longer will choke on your cancer
I'm sorry that I no longer look at you
& that I no longer reply.

I am only trying to cut the cord
lest it tightens & suffocates me
when the tension mounts
God forbid, if I were alreay kneeling.
(I think I would surely collapse)

See now, (or maybe you don't)
all this scar tissue from former battles ?
I have now abandoned the combat
& wait patiently for your last breath.
(a war of resistance not offence)

Do not despise me for giving up,
It was your example I followed
& I saw, even Christ, perished
for the sins of others
(I want to be alive)
1.2k · Apr 2013
l'effeuillage vicieux
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
puisque les beuveries sont cruelles,
nous nous sommes couchés
dans le tombeau de Bacchus
mais il ne sait plus respirer
& moi non plus, d’ailleurs

tous ces anciens tableaux qui
me faisaient croire à sa gloire,
ne me satisfont plus comme avant
leur beauté est devenue banale
*& je pense aux pétales de la Marguerite
french, français
1.1k · Apr 2013
la defaite
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
salle de concert,
salle des corps transpirants & glissants
salle de semi à poil
comment tu t’appelles ?

champ de Mars,
champ des conneries & des concessions
champ de refus
tu m’avais manqué

coin de la rue,
coin de sms à la con
coin d’attente
ne m’appelle plus jamais

taxi de Paris
taxi de vulgarité
taxi de fatigue
je vous vire à cause de ces mots

taxi de St. Germain
taxi de Charonne
vous êtes lesbiennes?
taxi du vieux pervert
embrasse-moi juste une fois

nuit de jeudi
nuit de j’ai trop bu
nuit quotidienne
*j’attends demain
french, français,
1.1k · Mar 2013
the pergatory of pisces
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
beneath the stillness of my ocean,

there are currents overwhelming,

& it’s a gentle, persisent undertow


they pull me down.


I can not tell, at times,

when the sea only whispers,

those waves of wonder,

I am all smiles on my vessel.


but lo! at times, I remove my hat,

And without, I can see reflections,

(refractions too!)

of the sunlight, illuminating,

the trenches & dark spots,

the layers I seek not to swim,


it is there, where I search for a map,

but there is no map, or guide of sorts,

my ocean remains ever unknown

it is there, where I float alone


they pull me down.


what is the worst; to know not

your ship or self?

I do not see either…

I can only see the reflections


that truth is drowning me….


I have made my boat bright,

intertwining daises freckle

the sides, but it is not me


& true! the piece will work

but for how long?


I fear I have not made it strong.


still, I shall sit in it. it carries

me well…

I have made seat enough for two

took the time to fill them up

no! my boat is full…


I must make for you, a space!

have my seat here…

me, I shall lay on the floor!


yes, I like it better here…

I can see only the sky…

& for miles & miles, I will

dream of, one day, sharing this view


& we won’t have to tell at times,

what the undertows are murmuring


I will not listen;

I will not let them pull me down
1.1k · Nov 2013
so what
La Jongleuse Nov 2013
It’s constant battle between your mind and your chest.
Which one is holding the reigns?
That’s easy enough to know -which one is buzzing more ?
Are your ribs rattling or is your head swollen?
Can you not think straight or have you got blinders over your eyes?
Maybe both?

Have you let your feelings taint your thoughts?
Have you too sweat through sleepless nights
courting delusion, tasting insanity on your tongue?
Have you mumbled "well at least, I feel alive"
Did you feel ashamed of this authenticity?
Have you bargained for meaning?

Did "but I love him" tickle your teeth time & time again?
Were you screaming inside…?
Did your skull tell you to shut the **** up?
and did you listen? Could you?

Did you let your desire die?
Did you forget that feeling?
(***, primal, I crave intimacy
Adorn me with your burdens
Feed me what makes you alive
I am human too!)
Could he not see it?
Was this vulnerability not beautiful enough?

Did you beg one last time?
Just once more.
Love me, love me.
I’m carrying dust in my chest.
I’m composed of particles of me and you.

I was full of feelings, naked sentiments
that brought meaning to the electromagnetic field.
I saw it all for once, burning my perceptive orbs.
And then I gave up.
I gouged out my ******* eyes
Traitors, betrayal to the brain!

Did you empty out?
Did you carry a heavy void about for a month or two?
Does it still sting to stare?
Did you cower to complacencey,
bowing down to the boring humdrums of I’m okay ?

You know what I’m talking about.
Keep that beating heart in it’s place, lest it overwhelm your brain.
Don’t let them meet up because God knows, united they’ll stand
and divided you’ll fall.
1.1k · Apr 2013
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
prickly little amoeba of a person
with no spine & skin that never molts

my passive-aggression falls flat
on dead ears, on dead eyes

this entity so empty, indifferent
nonsense eagerly conquered the front

my projections slept neatly in his vacuole
whilst i spit my repulsion on his flacid corpse
1.1k · Apr 2013
le mirage
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
avant, à ta poursuite
aux pays du désert
où le soleil brûlait et
dévorait tout en vue

je me contentais de
suivre ce fameux chemin
des miettes et méandres,
des traces de ton sang

pendant des années,
j'ai traversé ce terrain aride,
la course sèche la journée
des balades noyées la nuit,

je buvais que de ta tristesse,
j'avalais ta faiblesse entière,
mon propre corps infecté
par tes batailles malades

affamée, assoiffée, puis morte
pendue par mes pas sans fin,
ma persistance m'a gagné
un aller sous la terre

une fois revenue au Paradis,
tes plumes m’appariassent,
légères et sales, chez les autres,
un départ irréel de ton Enfer

ton Phantom silencieux,
tes ombres brumeuses,
flashent à travers leurs yeux
alors que j'ai arraché les miens

aveugle, la danse royal éternelle,
les fleurs vivantes me caressaient
une partouze de l’Ambroisie et ses amis
j'ai absorbé le Bonheur comme une éponge  

les lunes ont pleurés et décédées,
& tu te présentés à ma face,
portant ce vase ancien & abordant,
comme un cadeau bien attendu

pourtant, je vois mon reflet dedans
& comme c'est étrange
que tu ne pèses plus rien

english translation
not quite as good
the mirage,

before, when in pursuit of you
I found myself in a land of deserts,
where the sun burnt &
devoured everything in sight

I contented myself to
follow this notorious path
of crumbs & curves,
of the blood you left behind

for years upon years,
I crossed this arid expanse
running dry in day
drowned ramble at night

I drank only of your sadness
I swallowed your weakness whole
my own body became infected
by your diseased battles

ravenous, athirst & finally dead,
hanged by my endless trek
my persistence brought me
a trip beneath the earth

once safely returned to Paradise
through others, your feathers,
appeared to me filthy & light,
an impossible withdrawal from your Hell

your mute Phantom,
your foggy shadows
danced in their eyes,
so I tore out my own

blinded, an endless royal dance
living flowers touched my flesh
an **** of Ambrosia & her friends
Joy permeated my skin like a sponge

many moons wept & died
& you arrive in front of me,
carrying this forgotten, overflowing vase
as if it were a long lost gift

yet, I see my own reflection inside
& how odd it is
that you no longer weigh a thing
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
the icy winter air wraps herself around us
as we linger outside, smoking your Camels,
& there’s a relief in the tension when we’re alone.

here, I like you best ‘cause you don’t care.
here you like me best ‘cause no one has to know.
I take a last long drag  & turn to go inside.

but you grab my hand  & suddenly
all of the unsaid becomes physical…
& my heart jumps, only to be thrown

to the ground, sooner or later
when you close back up.
probably tomorrow,

probably when i need you most
I hate you.
but most of all,

I love you.
1.1k · Dec 2013
La Jongleuse Dec 2013
No, I let them come & go,
consistently riding that
endless wave of ephemerality.
Parade on in,
Provoke! Provoke!
I’ve got hours upon hours
to spend, delicately tracing
the hopes & hard-ons of young men.

By midnight, the cathartic compostion
is unravelling or rotting
& I’ve got my hand
down his pants,
hoping to call forth that
Saint-Lazarus sleeping at my core

Oh yes but how I do like you so,
said I, drowning in clouds
& flying through the bottoms of
sticky plastic cups
It wasn’t the truth
but God knows, I wasn’t lying

I would love to love you
I get utterly intoxicated
when you let me swallow your smile,
whilst you’re sleeping in my eyes.

It’s just that,
I only know to project my dreams
and lie awake,
melting beneath the cowardly heat.
Oh it lives on, the stiffling tension
of a fool with a thousand feelings
and a limited vocabulary.

I must admit
there isn’t much beauty to be found
as I left my courage far behind,
in spring,
in a bedroom,
inside some other vacuole of desperation
and he fed it to the birds.

These days,
my declarations are dosed,
I keep my tongue on a leash
and my chest begets a cage.
I crawl inside my mind
and close many a door.
1.0k · Apr 2013
baby gothic
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
call him a southern charmer
or call him a handsome *******

I don’t care what he goes by
I don’t want his supposedly perfect body
haunting your own.

All that choking distance,
now his indifference
steals the greenery
that grows alongside
the trellis of your skinny ribs

all that putrid poison
i’d  honestly
enjoy (much too much)
ripping out his tongue
& feeding it to the crows

at least they would feel full

version française

*Qu’il se prénomme charmeur sudiste
ou qu’on le nomme bourreau des coeurs

le fantôme de son corps
Ne te fera pas passer
le Styx

Toute cette distance, etouffante
Et maintenant, l’indiférence
ont parasité la vigne-vierge
qui poussait, bruissante,
sur le trellis de tes frèles côtes

Tant de poison putride…
Je jouis déjà (puissament, bruyamment)
des lambeaux déchiquetés de sa langue,
en pâture, pour le plaisir des corbeaux.
Aux moins eux n’auraient plus faim.
french, français, gothic,
1.0k · Mar 2014
La Jongleuse Mar 2014
Did I speak too soon?
Because here I am,
back in the mud
of emptiness
Will I make mountains out
of mundane or I have
learnt better?
I now know the world
is nothing but kingdoms
of bad men
and their rules,
how they restrict
and constrict,
exorcising gasping breaths
like a python to power.

I picked the fruit
of the dead men's orchard
in a dream-like landscape.
They told me to come back
down to earth
and finally, I could no longer
pay the toll of the cloudy road
so I obliged.

But then again,
here, I am low.
and how it comes & goes
the feeling of nothingness.
Jesus christ, can you even imagine
what I see I close my eyes
I wish you could know the ways
in which my mind splits,
how many atoms I dare to split.

I contain, contain it all.
in the rise and in the fall,
and I hate how you try
and make me feel small.
Leave me to my ascension
and quit  weighing me down
by shoving reality
down my throat.
I swear to God,
one day I'll just quit breathing.

Your objectivity isn't real
that ******* you insist upon
reeks of nonsense
it's such flimsy gravity
I'm not afraid to say it.

Watch me explode, for
I am a supernova nebula
1.0k · Aug 2013
this is easy
La Jongleuse Aug 2013
And there we were,
just the same
Metal hooks, green leaves,
& doors that don’t shut
you left yours’ wide-open!
So I walked right in…
I don’t need a key after all

On the walls,
of a delapidated city home hung
atlases & art
Memories taste sweeter in ink.
You want to put a map of Buenes Aires
on your body
I said your belly
& made you laugh

I like the way your smile
reaches the corners of
your ember amber eyes.
It dances about the ledges of your lips
Soft & corporal Hermes of oxytocin
You light up, oh well I do too

Fireflies, summer heat
blades of grass & midnight dips
in shallow pools of abandonned hotels
In the gentle release of a humane kindness
I remembered that it’s a falling
& not a pushing that we’re all after

sing to me
tell me your secrets
feed me beets & chardes
brown sugar
leave your window open all night
I’ll love you in the morning
1.0k · Jul 2013
La Jongleuse Jul 2013
On a Sunday afternoon, in the city,
I sat on your porch watching,
a panicked papillon dance about
(that means butterfly in French, boo)

You were running back & forth
Smiling, slamming doors & saying
it’s hot, but I sweat through
& I said, good ‘cause I like *****

So you ride your bike & keep a garden
but you don’t put your money in the bank
& I think that’s quite foolish
what about inflation my dear?

so you love cheese but you don’t drink milk
& you won’t ever fall in love
because you reckon you’d get too fed-up
with their complexities & mazes

well me neither I said, but
you stole those words from my mouth
& I have a hard time believing you
when “baby" seems to be your favorite word

You’re always saying the things I expect
& it’s what I’ve always wanted to hear
yet the simplicity is suffocating
& I’m somehow just as easy as you

& last night, when we were lying
in your room, on a bare mattress
Under the heat, I wondered if the words
pathetic,easy & empty circled your mind too

I wondered if you wondered why
we were already using terms of endearment,
why they came without effort or care, or
why we laugh & lock eyes in a week’s time

And you said you never sang aloud,
but in a moment I heard your voice tracing lyrics
& I said that’s really quite sad
& you said it’s only emotions; count yourself among the few

What an honor, what a privilege

I thought maybe we’re both lying to ourselves
& maybe you feel kinda lonely too
only because I’ve said the same before

You said I noticed that you
don’t listen to me when I speak

but then again you’re always telling stories
and I am but a woman & you are but a man

I thought I’d want to touch your feet
You reached out to hold my hand
But there’ll be distance to maintain &
I know better than to get any closer

We split asleep, turning our backs
towards mirroring walls, space enough
I dreamt I lost a lung & when I awoke
we were tangled up like ivy on ruins

This paradox ****** my mind
& I’ve been silent ever since I left you,
standing on the sidewalk
with cold coffee in your hands

*When do you leave, again?
Soon, soon enough.
Good, good, get excited.
The city is melting but I’ll see you soon
1.0k · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
in the right corner of your room,
the white paint is peeling away,
to pick at it & watch the entire
thing collapse upon you.

much like the empty things i feel:
nothing but chipping little flakes;
fragile little waste that might
decorate the floor of your room,

naked walls enclose this empty space,
but confused excited atoms dance about ,
screaming at each other in a tongue
that I’ve never known nor care to.

cotton sheets, a sweet odor of skin,
***, oranges & things i can’t get across
cause the line is blocked, overloaded.
i want to; bring down the roof upon us

scratch, pick away, take parts from
the whole thing until it gives way
& submits to the overbearing weight
of unseen structural weaknesses

before being buried alive in this mess,
i’ll evacuate & leave behind this expanse
i’ve been squatting in since i first laid
my eyes upon your deceivingly lazy face.  

(i’m not in the business of maintenance)
990 · Jul 2013
La Jongleuse Jul 2013
The way things were when
sunlight started to terrorize the morning
and then eventually, the evening sky.
My chest thumped at a glacial pace.
A slow hibernating thaw.
Those days I slept quite easily
whilst my mind ran away with the time.
Taking time with clowns & thieves alike.
Sponges indeed, sponges after all.
You crept in one night, hanging moons beneath your eyes.
I had exploded.
I closed.
On the loom, black lace then white cotton.
In my room, a screaming then a humming.
Cigarettes scattered the floor like sacrifices to some distant deity.
Who must have heard my prayers.
Something about all your silence
threw blankets on my lungs
and off my bed.
In your youth,
I feel soft.
Joy, I want more
976 · Apr 2013
this week
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
‘cause of the Itch,
you’ll say “do you want…”
& i’ll say “yes, i do”
i’d follow you anywhere
i’d follow anyone anywhere
i’d follow Alice down any hole

& ‘cause of the itch,
we’re doing our best
to reduce the amount
of planets that circle
the sun on the daily
& letting the stars sleep in

& we’ll spend Saturday,
dancing in the dark,
dripping, soaking wet
in hours of lesbian sweat
taking off our clothes
like armor, naked in battle

we’ll drink champagne
in taxis at twilight &
close the evening,
landing with not one but
two in cotton sheets
so hot, you’re so hot

& you when you wake up
do you wake up to naked
boys, still swimming in
last night’s *****?
laugh & there aren’t any ******’ problems

are they funny & clever?
do they walk in irony
towards that boite sur le quai?
do they study philosophy?
do they stare off into the distance?

do they **** **** & eat ***** ?
shove their fingers down your throat
& steal your cigarettes?
pull your hair without asking?
are they ***** like you are?

‘cause of the Itch,
are you swallowing everything alive
are you teasing death with a kiss
cheat on her with your mistress
miss Joie de vivre?

la dolce vita, i'll spit on your face
& you like it,
I know you do
955 · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
just wait until the black night falls,
your sticky blood held in veins,
thins out into an alcoholic vapeur,
& your body starts burning to touch

screaming out the name of the ones
who’ll return your frenzied call,
just as soon as bodies bloat the street
like bruises on peachy virigin flesh

the feverish buzz infects your gut,
from torrid twilight until doeish dawn,
stupid, angry, hungry, *****, high,
the monstrous id claims your reigns

the cable connection,
the electric persuasion
the hellish hunger
& ****** stimulation

you’ll hop the wall, ride the wave,
& dance with Death, song for song
sell the Devil your youth for a taste
of ambrosia: someting better than life
954 · Jul 2013
la mise en scène
La Jongleuse Jul 2013
Tel qu’une toile d’araignée
La grande ville fond sous la chaleur,
punie par un hiver trop absurde
Tes pieds collent au trottoir et
tes mains sont paralysées
par les fils fins de cette vaste piège

La nuit, quand la température baisse,
quand, enfin, la toile te lâche,
tu cours vers Alice, en avalent des capsules
du bonheur suprême,
une gorgée après une autre
tout dans l’espoir de regagner
son pays de merveilles

Hélas, elle est morte,
tu te trompes, en vain
T’en rappelles-tu ?
Tu l’as enterrée mille fois
& elle n’aurait jamais reconnu,
de toute façon,
ton visage usé par tes voyages,
sans sens, au sud, au nord
Elle n’aurait jamais aimé
ta poitrine remplie de poussières

Depuis que Perséphone a pris le relais
ce n’est plus pareil
952 · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
Mes mains : ses minuscules trous, par lesquels tout passe à travers,

les anciens déchets oubliés se ramassent autour de mes pieds,

et montrent les plus belles cendres d’une fablière ratée


sous la mer, à des milliers de pas, parmi des feus brûlants noyés

cette langue (jamais entendue) me ramène très **** du moment donné,

entre-temps, l’anti-temps et ses camarades se réveillent battus et épuisés


la ligne droite vient de s’exprimer en courbes,

faut se plier en deux, en trois, même en quatre

pour aller jusqu’au bout du monde encore


puis, le retour.


l’horloge sonne.

l’air pèse une tonne
english translation

*Tiny holes in my hands,  through which everything slips

the former, forgotten waste collects around my feet,

showcasing the breathtaking ashes of a failed storyteller


under the sea, at a thousand paces, among the burning, drowned fires

a stranger’s unknown word takes me to places far from this instant,

Whilst Anti-time et his mates awake battered & dead on their feet


the straightest line sings its song in curves,

bend yourself in two, in three, even four

to reach the end of the world once more


& then, the return.

the clock strikes

the air is thick as hell.
907 · Apr 2013
la sirène
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
lâche, lâche mes poignets
qui sont terriblement lourds
je l'ai laissé découvrir ce champ
& il a mis son cœur dans son cul
il s'est endormi sur la plage &
les vagues grises approchent
comme un enfant au berceau
ou plutôt, un vieil homme
crevé dans son tombeau?

laisse, laisse les heures fondent
enchaînées, l'une après l'autre
les temps que son corps
ne laisse aucun empreint,
qu'il soit pris par la mer,
j'aurais bu l'ensemble des océanes,
volontairement, les mains attachées
mais l'eau salée brûle mes lèvres
autant que ma parole morde

recule, recule, c'est le moment
je l'abandonne sur les rochiers
pour aller coucher avec le soleil
l'aube, je reviendrai manger,
engloutir ses côtes pétrifiés,
enterrer ses os sous les châteaux
de sable qui peignent et tapissent
l'horizon de ce festin cannibale
898 · Nov 2013
Copper & Distance
La Jongleuse Nov 2013
These days, there’s a whole lot more than
a telephone wire separating us.
Blame yourself, you were beautiful.
I cannot handle such intensity in
small doses, like hard shots in tiny glasses.

That sort of proof just finds
me spilling my insides on the floor
of some rich fool’s apartment
in the lonely 7th district.

He came on too strong
I said ok, but no
Call me a cab
I’m no longer sad and he won’t make me happy.
So I’m leaving if it’s only his hands that are open.

I feel as if I left my old mind
backstage in the concert
of a spring that tried too hard
to be a winter.  

I didn’t say goodbye,
it just left.
& I don’t miss it,
that season where I played the pilot fish.

The endless rain and grey skies
kept us all trapped in boxes,
well above & well beneath
the sidewalks that almost
seemed to cry.
I drank my weight in liquid
to keep it from spilling out of my eyes.

From a bird’s eye,
I suppose the streets bled together
like last night’s make-up does
on a Puritanical ******’s face
when she swallows horror and shame
at 8 am, riding the train home.
Her throat burns and the line
just keeps on buzzing.

You can’t play with fire and not get burnt.
I thought myself the Phoenix,
but I was blind.
What you ingest, you expulse.
Indeed, in the end, it was me who retched all the ashes

I once said I was melancholic
and knew black was the best color
because I thought it held depth.
But there weren’t ever any holes, just shadows
dancing to a dreary song that
I never really even wanted to sing.
I let it sing me, nonetheless.

So life goes on.
I crawl forth.
You fold and move on.
The past falls asleep inside of our skulls.
I still see a thousand faces when I dream,
but now that’s enough for me.
897 · Mar 2013
la consommatrice
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
à 3h du matin, en double milieu,
mi-chemin entre le jour & la nuit

mais tes mains sont déjà sur moi
& nous ne sommes qu’au vestiaire
qu’est-ce que t’es chaude ce soir

descendons au tréfonds du terrier
allez, on va prendre un verre,
allez, on va s’égarer un peu,

dans le flou, parmi toutes ces créatures,
qui n’ont jamais connu ce soif inassouvi
celui qui brûle & pousse & crie à haute voix

ça me plait comment tu danses,
comment tu te relâches & comment
tu laisses la musique t’avaler entière

un peu comme ces mains cherchent
à me faire là, pressées à trouver
des miettes de sentiments bien faux

allez, on va aller aux toilettes,
pour discuter tout ce que tu veux,
& rejoindre la fameuse Dame Blanche

puis, on va aller danser sur la piste
où je te montrerai ce corps fragile
& tout dont il est capable à détruire

ce morceau est hypnotique, autant qu’un poème,
mes hanches te crachent le message,

celui que tu n’entends pas de toute façon

allez, viens on va fumer à l’étage mais
tu parles trop vite cherchant à fouiller ta chair,
un vide-grenier nocturne de ton esprit

les trémoussements de tes mains solides,
font une résistance contre l’aube, disant
genre, je m’en fou, c’est juste que…

je te veux

english translation

3 am, in double milieu,
halfway between day & night

but your hands are already on me
& we’re only just now checking our coats
you’re clearly feeling hot tonight

reaching the depths of the rabbit’s hole
“come, let’s go get a drink”
“come, let’s go lose ourselves a bit”

in the crowd, amongst all these creatures
who’ve never known this never-ending thirst
the one that burns, pushes & cries aloud

i like it how you dance
how you release yourself & how
you let the music swallow you whole

a bit like those hands are looking
to do to me, hurried to find
crumbles of terribly false feelings

"come, let’s go to the bathroom”
& talk about anything you’d like
& meet up with Snow white

then, let’s go dance on the floor
where I’ll show you this delicate body
& everything it’s capable of destroying

this song is hypnotic, as much as a poem,
my hips spit to you the message
the one you don’t hear anyways

“come, let’s go smoke upstairs” but
you’re talking too fast, trying to dig up your skin
a nocturnal emptying out of your spirit

the fidgeting of your strong hands
creates a resistance against dawn, saying,
something like, *“I don’t give a ****, it’s just that..”

“I want you”
French, en français
866 · Nov 2013
Halting rotation at 2 am
La Jongleuse Nov 2013
I chose, well before the poison set in.
No, not this time. Shut that door.
In the darkness, I chewed my thoughts,
Palpable question, **** those old ideas.
They burnt out fast but I did much quicker.

Told myself to take warmth
beneath some other shelter,
because I ached down to the bone.
Yet I was too busy stifling the moan
Radiating from my gut.
Swallow, stare, shall I part my hair?

Fiddling with my fingers-
a child’s pantomime
At least I dare to speak
but I’m no longer at home
and not a soul
my language.

I bent my head on the ride back.
Dragging my neck, crooked in delusional defeat,
my glances traced trash the metro floor
afraid the people were staring daggers at the surface.
Indeed, somewhere a light bulb did burst
but I was already making my way up the stairs
so the shards were at a distance
I escaped unscathed

I chose well, before the poison set in,
No not this time, I shut that door
In the darkness, I slept alone
Pas de question, **** that history
I give heed to dosing & remain alight
843 · Apr 2013
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
those hands, their hands are strong
& their skin carries scents from
places I’ve never been to before,
i let mine wander where i wish

head spinning, heavy with *****
when i open my eyes & flip,
i see but a mass of foreign flesh,
who are you & where are you from?

i never really listen to their responses,
just love how their words crash on my ears,
the way their touch brings electricity,
how the novelty keep my mind aflight

i’m just playing along, pretending
i’m just playing a role & so are you
let’s bring this image to temporary life
let’s set the ephemeral stage ablaze
842 · Apr 2013
les jouets
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
oh you bored baby boys,
how many times have I
gotten myself lost inside
of you & your endless mazes?
never enough, once more

oh you’re such fine young men,
weighed down by pockets
of paper that doesn’t bear
your name & a guard to
rival that of the Queen

so **** boring, so ****
silent, i’ll project my mind
on to you & romance
myself alive through this
fragmented Narcissist’s mirror

oh so blasé you guys, once,
twice, now thrice i’ve thrown
my sanity to the wind &
stroked my mania to love you
the world over & back again

oh & you all **** it up royally
infect me with your ennui,
i push my boundaries & leap
forward, leaving you stagnant
& rotten in settling dust

oh you lost boys, the return
“baby i was a fool, i had
no idea that was boiling
inside of you” now just words
from a reformed Prince with
an empty belly & no spine

let the line drop dead
& return the favor elsewhere
831 · Apr 2013
the mermaid
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
let, let go of my wrists,
which are much too heavy
I let him explore that field
& he put his heart in his ***
Fell asleep on the beach &
the grey waves are approaching
like a baby in its crib
or an old man, rather,
dead in his grave

let, let the hours melt,
bound, the one after the other
the time that his body
can’t leave any prints,
that he’d be swallowed by the sea,
I would have drank every ocean,
willingly, hands tied back
but the salt water burns my lips
just as much as my words bite back

step, step back, it’s the moment,
I leave him on the rocks,
to go sleep with the sun,
at dawn, I’ll return to eat,
**** dry his petrified ribs
Bury his bones beneath the castles
of sand that decorate & spot
the horizon of this cannibal’s feast
829 · Jan 2014
Vacuum, Vacoule
La Jongleuse Jan 2014
Your mouth is usually dry,
I’m sure an incubus
sleeps in your gut.

You were, at first,
a twilight ride
on a stormy night,
unprecedented submission
I confronted in autumn

I place your tender brutality
in the very back
of my medicine cabinet.

Amongst the radio and drug deals,
I lost my will to speak
You saw my sure hands
do all of the talking

There is contact
and then none at all.

The spectators cry
Plot ! Affection ! ****** !
But I play a probe
and you embody a shell

There is crescendo in your throat,
a cloud of static air in mine.
It is the punctual friction
that provokes combustion
yet there is nothing
about your face or history
that compels me to
douse myself in gasoline.
817 · Nov 2013
La Jongleuse Nov 2013
It takes all I have within me
not to give in to the vibrations
that throw me against the wall
saying, lick the residue of salt
that coats the back of his neck
like the condensation of a room
that we could bring to a boil.

It takes some serious restraint
to keep me from tossing aside
all abandon, shouting put
your hands on me and make
maps of pleasure dribble
out of my neglected body.
I’d return the favor in an instant.

Call it dual exploration.
Oh, I’m swelling and aching
hoping to provoke the tension
quivering on the line.
I want to taste your flavors
as they pour out of you.
I’m starving for so much more
than what this safety provides.

Let’s :
Pulverise the precedent.
Run with risk.
Rebel, revel with me
Split my thighs where they part.
Grow where you will.
Spill some swollen ***.
Pop me like a pin.
Sweat, swallow, breath
with absent eyes.
Be ferocious.
Whisper then scream.

I would do the same
and explode.
Feeling my heart rattle my chest.
812 · Jan 2014
it's january again
La Jongleuse Jan 2014
I kissed a boy out of sheer timidness.
He tasted like salt and bad decisions.
I held her hand tightly when she said
she was going to terminate the pregnancy.
I’ve got 25 years beneath my belt
and I still have yet to tell you how I feel,
every time your eyes grace my field of vision,
rather, I mean, everytime your name
graces my ears, I gulp deep breaths of
I hope he hasn’t forgotten me

But that is what you said,
It was goodbye, if my memory
doesn’t fail me,
oh yet, it fails me
for I’ve swallowed everything
this earth has to offer
and I still cannot erase your new wave voice
and I’m no sponge,
but you, I’ve soaked to the bone.
There is no fancy wine to erase,
there is no jazz band,
to take me back a few years,
rewind and forget,
the way you made me feel
like I had been some sort of mute
audience, clinging to the end of
a long-dead television show.
Indeed, I felt you more of a
leading man, than some shiny fool
with bright teeth in some 1960’s commerical.

I refuse to utter the 2 syllables
that call you forth, a spell.
I’ve forgotten how to swallow
and you’ve forgotten how to spell.
We are lost in paradise and
I am not sure I wish to leave.

I repeat, it takes 3 years
It really does, but I haven’t the patience
nor the mind to wait.
I swim in shallow depths,
but you’re no savoir and I’m sure
you’d let me drown

This face is too pretty
to be spent be scraped off
of some cement ground
in the middle of a dog-day summer
when I’ve still got a skeleton of calcium
and a chest full of oxytocin
to spread amongst another
like rancid butter
on old bread.

They say  *I love you
Where are you beautiful? *
I am lost in the cosmos,
calling your name,
to a dead audience of
long deceased stars.

I will come back for seconds,
Feed on these remainders,
for my mind is among the heavens
and my heart is beating inside of
808 · Mar 2013
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
so yeah,*
i threw up thrice yesterday
let my fingers tip the trigger
& stroke my neuroticism
i just wanted to cheat:
synchronize my gut & brain
remove the abandon that
i fear with my entire being
lest it spread like a virus

yes, i’m ashamed of
that violent emptying,
of the maniac Itch that
takes ahold of me when
i feel i have no control
over the territory between
hope & disappointment
& these dramatic emotions
that render me so **** happy

but now,
i’ve begun to realize
that i can’t erase the past
& perhaps, it’s better to just
swallow my pride & place
my worth outside of what power
i may or may not yield, for
perfection is poison & i have
no right to demand it of you
nor myself

& no, i am not fragile,
although i may  tremble...
i am strong now,
in part, having carried
all these heavy things
i've fed myself on for years
forgive you, forgive myself
& finally purge for once & all
of these habitual burdens

**for i am full without them.
794 · Aug 2013
tellement absurde
La Jongleuse Aug 2013
on a scale of one to one-hundred,
no, one to one-thousand,
your lips tasted like cinnamon
Brought heavy feelings below my waist
til I thought I just might explode
Call orange the new numerals
and red the better alphabet
say A B C then 1 2 3
sickly sticky and sweet
Doughy flesh that melts in summer heat
How many moments does it take
to burn pasta on the stove ?
Enough for me to get up and watch you go
La Jongleuse Feb 2014
Il y a moi
et puis, il y a toi
et encore,
il y a cette pièce
qui fond
il me semble,
sous la pression
de toutes ces
années pondérées
et pesantes.

il y a tes mots
et puis,
il y a mon silence,
et encore, il y a
plus de 365 jours
dormants entre nous.
j’avale toute,
cette histoire que je n’ai pas su ranger

je connais la déception
et je sais à quoi ressemble
un présent enceint du passé
et comment il ne cesse à
rendre amères les jours à venir.

il y a moi,
et puis il y a toi,
et encore,
il y a une passivité
encaissée au fond
de ma gorge.
il me semble
que tu m’as
arraché la langue

et personne ne sait
à quel point
ma voix me manque
français, french,
782 · Jun 2013
La Jongleuse Jun 2013
there’s something about those tiny teeth
decorating that infinite black canvas
drawn like a curtain at the day’s end
that enhance the chemical persuasions
I give into when yesterday calls itself today

Moonlight breeds a fleeting, false clarity
that the Sun devours ravenously by mid-day
& so my hands often hold nothing but a
pouding headache and throbbing regrets
But I can’t say I know what remorse feels like
763 · Feb 2014
i can see you struggling
La Jongleuse Feb 2014
your disorder and depression aren’t ****,
and I do not admire the way your nails
have disappeared, nor the way your
hand pratically clutches that half-empty mug of beer.

know that i find you pretty ugly
with that inebriated smile
slurring about your cowardly mouth,
swerving along the tight lanes of your lips.

nobody can stand to believe anymore
that there is depth inside your eyes.
You cry trenches, insisting like a hungry fool,
Abyss, I retort, empty, shaking black hole

gobble, gobble, chug, chug
you listen to the same sad songs on repeat
proud, like they were your signature fragrance
just know that you reek of desperation

There is absolutely nothing courageous
about your endless consumption,
yet you somehow continue
to bite the hand that feeds

i imagine you should wish
to starve to death, so go on.
but stop ******* other skeletons dry
and quit hanging around until last call

(unless it really is that you are simply
trying to douse that flame that makes you
a firefly in august, in which case i say
burn yourself to the ******* ground)
756 · May 2013
La Jongleuse May 2013
do you still despise your father
because he had another woman,
& left you & your brother for her?
"oh no, now, no one will ever care"

do you still resent your mother
because she turned a blind eye
& collasped with shame when it came to light?
"oh no, I'll be more unyielding than that"

& so it is no small wonder to me
that when you gaze at  yourself
you must see the ***** that you are
you still take his money after all.

that sort of self-disgust must be
pretty hard to swallow, digest.
no wonder, you're always hungry & hollow
oh you'll consume anything he pays for

(I, myself, must admit I made the mistake of
finding an abyss inside a void)

but spaces are not always places
aches are not always pains
I loved you once
744 · Mar 2013
the pest
La Jongleuse Mar 2013
taste, swallow, bring it back up,
stomach remains empty & you
still feel light. ***** but somehow
satisfied to have cheated the moment
& your weakness for a split second

this provokes a rapid heartbeat &
a nonchalant shame that you couldn’t
explain to anyone, ever, even if the
scars on your knuckles already
speak volumes of what you are

& she spits out fire & you know
this dance has been going on for
far too long yet the song never ends
& she keeps cutting in when you’ve
only just begun making introductions

sitting in the back of your thoughts,
making faces like she’s got a pocket
full of immortality elixir when you
know she’s only selling deathly ****.
(stuff that goes down too smoothly)

but you’ll taste some of that too
& empty out your insides once more.
as you do,
as you do.
739 · Apr 2013
big bang
La Jongleuse Apr 2013
so shriveled, small at times,
yet large on the by & by,
a shiny laquer of a shell,
the center hollow
expands & invades neighboring

begin to
swallow people,
time & money in
ever increasingly big gulps
consumption without taste

never feeling quite full,
never feeling totally satisified
the boundaries expand
& the entrapment ever present
begins to instill itself inside
my mind & my being

the ever mutable sponge,
ideas & sentiments only
ever ephemeral
nothing remains,
nothing lasts forever
i have no memories

turn up the volume,
only to render myself deaf,
crave that intense color
when the world plays out
forever in black & white
is gray is the goal?

feel dead during the day
& molt every evening
the night & its shade
keep the beasts at bay
there is no color,
there is only an Itch
that I can’t seem to scratch

but i have no hands
& my body is not my own
714 · May 2013
La Jongleuse May 2013
We lived and died in the age of flowers
Whiskey on our lips,
Whispers on our lips,

I was a little too quick,
a little too quiet,
Your laugh spoke worlds to me.

& although I did not speak your tongue
When you made movements of words,
I swear I felt the earth tremble.

We lived and died in the age of flowers,
Love on my lips,
Lies on your lips,

I was a little too open,
a little too brave,
Your mind escaped my own.

& although I could not understand,
When you closed like a fist,
I swear I saw your demons

We lived and died in the age of flowers,
Weeds between those hips,
Goodbye on my lips
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