Lilli Blakk Jul 2017

Find me.
Callouses bubble born of survival
Barefooted, bare-backed branding
It's psycho-tribal.

It's in the bible.
Something on makeshift witchcraft
An (in)impatient scripture draft
Find me.

All of us, answers for anatomy.
Grey slate, tabula. And. scar tissue tough
Illness or just ill-wish is brainstem spinal
Callouses bubble born of survival.  

Instinctive. Normal.
What we learned when the books were burned  
Cave paintings made in the padded cage
Barefooted bare backed branding.

Now, make it gentle.
Through looking glass, exhausted paragraphs
Be blind to the bodies and dance
It's psycho-tribal.

They never were very nice to us back then
Lilli Blakk Jun 2017

Behind your back

Look up at my sculptor hands
These safety blizzards
Concrete vien
The glass train track

Don't look at me, Hunger
You are an empty stomach
Skin contrasts sky
Goodbye contrasts stay
And I think it's easy
When I hurt you

My grin leaves you with nothing

Romantic crucifixion

Sunday Is God's Day
Lilli Blakk Jun 2017

But I lied.                            They don't.
Her hands are very small,
So small as to grasp a thousand

While mine are too big,
So big as to grow myself into this singular lonely

Sometimes my fingers slip through and
The too-fast-cars
Chasing the politics
Swaddling the wet rashed babies
Birthed from the awkward sex
The tongue-tied trying
Fall into CONSTRUCTION gaps

We didn't plan our fingerprints.
But what a stupid thing to say.

I was little when I used big words
Lilli Blakk May 2017

But the second time it comes undone
Redundancy and cardboard boxes under the Christmas tree
Fucking the professor - "Fun fact: by the time you turn 20, half of your taste buds have
Holly has tried to die while keeping her memory intact
She won't want to forget this
Fuck the twine, slip knots slip
-Not in the good way-
Her father said he loved her not in the good way
The bongos are too loud for this place and they aren't instruments
Skin wrapped over emptiness
His Catholic echo
Georgia watches him flap up to the podium,

Desire: verb, derived from the root word 'virgin'
We have several walls between us, baby
Tell me all your passwords.

Tabs under the tongue, Joey can't taste her iris and how she constricts
Hurting is a good sign, sin, sigh
You will never know how to get inside.

Bird-shit on your shoulder waiting at the alter, Holly is late and the clock is expanding inside of her throat
Deep, suicidal
Clean your clothes, wipe off your cellular corpses flaking like funeral snow
Joey, baby, tell her you cannot taste her entrances
Tell her she does not remind you of ash and acid
Tell her you have not been licking your lips ever since she gave birth to you

The middle child and you have never believed in God.


I once titled this poem A Response Or Reply
Lilli Blakk May 2017

I can't wait for you to see me like this.
Me like this.
Wait to see.
I can't wait for you to see like this.
Wait to see me.
Wait for you to see.
- I can't like this.
I can't see.  
I can't see like this.

I can't wait for you.

Lilli Blakk May 2017


But our bodies makes noises when we are not around
Are mistranslated
Crack of the arctic knuckles crack

-The whip on the horse to make it go faster
-The egg on the bowl to keep your hands clean
-The dawn that splices through skinny windows crack

I have noticed our Shadows
How they snap on the sidewalk
Like high-heeled claps and click

Went my back when I stretched
And I remember when this first started
And I asked if I could lean on your shoulder sweet spot
And I did for a while
And resting next to your throat was noisy
And we don't do that anymore
And I don't do that anymore

There you go, that familiar sound
(that same old sigh, that ticklish taunt, that numb noise - croaky crack)
You would think "Anymore"
Is a blah word
Because that is what my feet said

You are not around anymore
Our bodies aren't on speaking terms.

(that same old sigh, that ticklish taunt, that numb noise - croaky crack)
Lilli Blakk Apr 2017

I want to create
I want to create
But I don't need to
Not right now

I want to create
Just cause it smells like you
Just because that's what we agreed you were

I want to create
And I've sat in our conversations
Like I sat in her mouth

I wanna create like that
My fingers (talons) toying with her tongue
I'm telling her to talk
I want the sensation of talking
T T T T Talking, Telling
Mechanics of T T T T Telling
My fingers (roots)
I wanna create like that

And now
I think of my fat fingers (snakes) inside of you
I want to create
I want to create you
I'm telling you to talk - right now

I know what to do.

I felt like I needed to write a new poem, so I started writing.
But this poem became about something very old, I don't think I've created anything new here.
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