sifting through black rubble
i find pieces of myself
old chokes with
fractured bodies
and little burnt fingers.
the sky is a holy grey box
downpour
spiral fragments
but mostly crying children.
when will i die?
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 5:44 AM UTC
sifting through black rubble
i find pieces of myself
old chokes with
fractured bodies
and little burnt fingers.
the sky is a holy grey box
downpour
spiral fragments
but mostly crying children.
when will i die?
wisconsin two penny sue weathertop tock tock
slow bombs fall on syrian children. they lift their hands in time to see their flesh fall, torn from bone, pieces of skull, shrapnel, chemical rot. support the troops, support the troops, support the--
eagle flies over itself, why do we exist
feet through the door, forgot my pen, ** i am so forgetful and original, let us share a coffee and socialise, yes i do like canadian indie music, bjork is my favourite
empty signifier slipping through the gaps in speech THERE IS NO PURPOSE THERE IS NO PURPOSE THERE IS NO PURPOSE THERE IS NO PURPOSE
i keep falling through the earth, my feet, my god **** feet
where is the core? mother's grave circling itself. ouroboros looped through time, folded space
pi pi pills; swollen liver, kidneys, brain, it's a painful way to die, most are. your friends are awful
i can't ******* write poetry. these objects of cathexis are simply old memories of distance reified into absence. all presence collapses into the memory of absence. this is what i have been trying to say for weeks.
ANNIHILATION IS EVERYWHERE. I CAN'T GET IT OUT.
i am so clever, choking god. i am so clever. nobody is here
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