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  6d Em
Robert C Ellis
Lungs are His cathedrals, on this night A
Boeing 737-7 cuts a spotlight
between twilight and dream
Gods breath carving alveoli with a 10:35 flight across rib bone
and destiny
It is the curse of existence, trajectory
Neither sleep nor sunrise will stabilize me.
Em Sep 5
There is a lull in being
a singular heartbeat among
the mess of your room

The window is dark
with the suspension of city quiet
and the hum of incessant silence
Existing, existing

Sitting with hands bleeding
fire and flowers and fraudulent feelings
and the floating ache of lungs

The perfume stings your nose
and you learn to love it
and then you learn to hate it
Hear a voice (your own):

The apple falls, crisp, red
It fulfils it grand role
Eaten, sacrificed
The seeds see far,
noble, shinning destiny

The apple falls, clinging, dead
It rots as it descends
Putrid, abhorred
The seeds grow an executioner
choking, mindless hunger

I’ll tell you a secret
You smell of corpse-sweet

You are not your own
You are not your own
You are not your own
You are not yourown
Youarenotyourownyouarenotyourownyouarenotyourownyou

My fingers tug my limbs with puppet string
on a stage made of automatons
and I’m so scared I’ll blindfold every smiling audience
who’d come to see me dance
that one day I’m left with a empty room
only filled with audio studio claps
Em Jul 14
Every eye in the grain of the walls
Center at my spine
It crawls
Searching, staring

Fear
It’s white and blinding and
it sloughs off my throat like
An invasive buzz of
“Why”
“Meet me”
“I know”

I clutch my hands tighter to my chest
Cradling the last untouched petal
From my rotting person
Skin marred with unspoken rules
Flesh scored with glares

And even that is ripped away

I’m so tired
So very tired
It’s so easy to sink
Fall back to black
Dark
Silent waters

Every noise is a spider
On a web of vibrating consequences
I’m a doll splayed for dress up
On a stage made for the world

And now look at me
Crawling along the ledge
I tiptoe on the ice but
My feet are strapped with coals

Blind me, deafen me
Put me in a grave
If the day I get to keep my story un-judged
is the day my book burns
Then set yourself a campfire
Upon my weary bones
No privacy
Em May 25
You kneel over,
hurling,
hands on gravel on tire stench on rubber
And there, on the streets
blood

Do you feel a pain too?
Right there, in your stomach
A little at the back, to the side
like when you run for a bit and stop and then run again but you forgot that it gives you stitches but it’s too late and it stabs and—

Do you feel it?
You grin at me with carnage teeth
We’re bound, aren’t we
Ritual and bone
Do you feel the needle?
or a cut
or a knife
or a bullet
or a— oh
you don’t feel it

I’m staring at the sky now,
your head’s the moon
your eyes the stars
my blood rain from your storm cloud lips

I— I think I’ve had enough
It’s been fun, I wanna go home
It’s— it’s been—
hold on

My chest is the rotten mouth of dying lion
Yep, crank the clamp wider, that’s right
Bad teeth in the back, come on
Yank it out

I’m still on the road
It’s a crossroads, I notice
It’s the only thing I can notice over the vice on my ribs
and the sight of your back

It’s crowded here
There’s the Hurt, doing shots in the living room
my Breath, snorting chemicals in the corner
the Night, shoving its tongue down my throat
And you, host of the Party of the Century

You walk away, silent as always
I think my veins still swell in your mouth
iron minting you a new silver tongue


I hope you taste nothing else
Em May 17
I need a picture on the wall of my coffin of stone
Put on a pedestal
Put on a shelf
A thousand years crusting tears on my self

Paint me immortal
Paint me a Saint
Or paint me the nightmare that everyone claims

Cause I am a paradox
A knife’s bloodless blade
A faceless body in the mirror
I can’t wipe away

Sinking on land
Quicksilver sand

Poison on lips
Drowning the tips of my
Sanity
Profanity

The sting of a bee hurts less
Than the thought of you leaving
Cause I dance the fine line
Of empathy and tragedy

Oh the church bells will ring for
Dancers and fools
Pantheon of Justice
Your name’s just a tool

Oh the road ahead is dusty
And the trees are barren fruit
But my back is to your hangman love
And I’m sorry I’m leaving
So soon
Em Mar 9
Mmm, tempting fate
Standing above storm clouds
Icarus bled silver regret
So he could be his own sun

And the audience behind the
Heavy blue curtains weep
And the sound effects team take thunder
From their giving hands

Oh, heroic, ironic
tragedy

he burned under the gaze
of our eyes
and the world is our unfortunate stage
Em Mar 5
hello, stranger
i see we meet again
between book pages
within art hedges

the paths to immortality are
storylines and ballad chimes
i’ll see you in the epigraphs
i’ll read you in the skies

first law of
thermodynamics
no energy created
no energy destroyed

over and over
blood born blood lost
arms carved from fireflies
breath fossils in northern lights

hello, stranger
decaying and beating heart
chubby hands clinging to heaven
or trading final death-cards

the clock ticks to the rhythm of
supernovas far, far away
and prophecies printed on
abandoned beach sands

and you, stranger
walk the plank between the waking
and the beyond
my question to you is
Which direction are you heading?
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