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May 2018 · 469
dandelion daydreams
Quinn May 2018
i love my dandelion daydreams
that grow on unmarked graves

i love dancing with their
seedsprout whiteheads in a
river of me

i love to toy with my
dandelion (daydreams) and

pretend that each one
is the hand of a corpse
taking its final

(maggot rodden)
grip of fresh air.
i tried to take a picture of a dandelion for 20 minutes but it wasn't pretty - so i wrote a poem instead :)
May 2018 · 374
frozen flameling
Quinn May 2018
follow me
my little
deathling
(my tiny
frozen
flame)
let me show you

let me make your frozen fingertips-
tendrils of falling
frost
that kiss the ground

in a mixture of sky and earth that is
both of us (somehow)

sit yourself on the
pinprick spindril
mountains

and let me throw myself
at you with all my might

and maybe you
fall from your
tallplaces

until you realize that unless you hit the ground

falling
is
flying

let yourself fly into me

let yourself become the monster
that you always saw in the mirror

scream at me your deathly dialogue.

scare me.

let all the darkness out
of your ashen mouth
like a bird running
out of air to fly on.

expose me to your suffering
make me your worldly attachment
(i dare you)

battle me.

exhaust yourself until
you realize that i am your
arms

and i can fight myself forever.

fight for your dusty body

hope that you can return to it

realize,

that you cannot.

see yourself as a congregation of
mud
and wind
and water.

become the flame that set you free.

and set fire (the world) that killed you.
Apr 2018 · 309
Bitter Breeze
Quinn Apr 2018
i wasn't tired until you
fell into my arms

and i wasn't tired until
i threw a thousand
weightless snowdrops
to the ground

and i didn't hurt until
the first word
and now
my home is a loud
roar of reverberations
that pass through me

(like a million spoken knives)

and i didn't understand
pain. Until your somebody
stumbled into me

and i couldn't let go
(because they were made of ash)

and i felt the weight
of so many somebodies
(suddenly)

and i began
to think

that - my existence
(the sea
the sky
and the nothing between)
manifested to
pulverize
the
planet
with
each
further
strained
breath
until
it
can
feel
each
pinprick
loss
of
life
it
enforces.

And maybe my rage
forged bellowing
stormclouds over deserts
or made rivers flow backwards
from storm surge (tear driven)
but the somebody i'm not

and the somebodies i carry

will never
be more threatening
than a fadeaway
wind that cries with the lone
wolf.
Apr 2018 · 402
trauma
Quinn Apr 2018
the police radio is
screaming
like your mother-
(never has)
but i didn't
hear you in the
background

and when
i went to
see you
you wore a hat
to cover the
bullet wound
above your neck.

and you didn't move
even when i cried
(for you)
(because of you)

and i cried because
death
is supposed
to be beautiful

it is supposed
to be a
collaboration
of fungus
and blackness
that ends in
a teardrop.

death is not supposed to hurt (me)

it feels like
the first time
that i fell in love
because

when he left me

a part of me was scrambled into the pinpricks of the night
sky
(and i haven't been the same)

when he left me

i couldn't breathe

because he could knock the wind out of me
with his eyes (stareheavy)

and when you left me

i couldn't breathe

because you were my  
breath.

and because now

when i breathe
i think of you

and my throat betrays me,

like your trigger finger betrayed you.

friend, please,

when i sit above the circle of ash,
(that was you)

spin yourself around me until once again -

you may be (yourself) my lungs.
i miss you friend !
Quinn Apr 2018
i can feel it when you wake up
and when you (gaspheavy)
walk.

i can feel each morning whisper
like a lonely star
on the arm of
a galaxy
that ends in your eyes.

i can push
myself
onto your
stomach
and live there forever

and you can struggle against me
(but i will always win)

i can absorb you.
and you like it.

i can cry
with the pitpatter
tear drops
of a million raging
cloudy (skystreaks)
because i am everywhere

but you-

you-

are everything.

a beautiful mirror for me to
stare into infinitely

because your eyes are tiny reflections
of what they see

and your body is the earth

and i
am the
bubbles
in your
blood
that
keep you (alive)

and i am the nothing
in your starry fingertips,
or the nothing
you look through
to stare at the sky

and i(nothing)am

are everything.

and you(nothing)are

nothing without me.
Apr 2018 · 154
The Spider in the Sky
Quinn Apr 2018
i exist (am the spider in the sky)
listless drips onthrough
leaves
that
tickletouch my
(bodiless; body
and i caress
each tree
like a distant lover
and each leaf (are the earthen fingertips)
is the
strangling fruit
that lies in the
hands of the sinner.

and i am the sinner.

and i(sinner)am the
quiet roar that
touches your
chest when
the earth
wakes each morning.

and i(sinner)have
come to take you away.
because when they burn you
to bits-
((the sinner : the hyena) that
needs for the fleshscraps.)

and it hurts
when you breathe
because you
bite me like an apple
and your lungs
are teeth.

and it tickles
in the trees

and i (am the spider in the sky)
have got you
to eat you like a bug,

and you sit in my web,
and admire the view.
Mar 2018 · 257
Seduction
Quinn Mar 2018
She caresses
my
chest
while I walk
and we're
tumbling on a
horizontal
plane
and I
need her
hands
to
hold me
lest
I tumble drip into nothingness.
My body
and
her body
fold
together
and
my hands
and
her hands
intertwine
and
she looks
me in
the eye
without blinking
and disappears;
the seductive songs of the wind.
Feb 2018 · 729
art therapy
Quinn Feb 2018
i was drawn up on a piece of
paper and tossed in the breeze

surrounding lives resound
voiceless breaths of
the windpipe of a lover

i have never met.

why else would people
stare straight through
me, gloomy glances
from my paper pupils
into angels eye sockets,

and they think that i'm human
and they think that i'm like them
and they think beautiful
thoughts on rainy days
while i'm stuck.

eyes manifest imagination into
each person's planet

but not me, what i see
reflects back and all i
can do is be what i believe
i see.

in
san
i
ty

is

ta
king

its

toll

on

me

and

i

don't know how much longer it's gonna be before
i gotta gasp for breath.

people worry when i rant,

but they don't get it
people fall in love with
people

how could anyone love me
if i don't see a person

when i look in the mirror.

shadow-whispers sing to me
and cloak me in black
cloth and when they took the
cloth off.

i hate linear equations and
computations and
numbers
because
people love numbers.

linear thought blitzes
right through me
because
I
am
a
contradiction.

chaotic enough
to be a hurricane
stuck in the body of
a person.
Jan 2018 · 200
spider-laugh
Quinn Jan 2018
What are you laughing at?
I once asked the spider.

He told me, not much...
...
Just the look on victim's faces
when they stick in my trap
...
and admire the view.
Jan 2018 · 272
Look to the Stars
Quinn Jan 2018
When sands grind me bare
and my world's gears stop turning,
I look to the wind

and wait for the sky.
for the sun to rage off of
my range of vision

until stars come out,
instead of looking at feet
I fix to the sky.

my star stares me straight
directly in my third eye
'sit still my son please

I've sat here for years
let me tell you a story
of Earth at its start.

the planet's alive,
a lot like you can't you see,
from fire and storms

mass extinction, death
out of, the earth came to be.
Earth was weak until

she spun her core so
tightly and quickly the wind
came alive. With that

planet earth found a  
cure for her fire. She found
beauty in balance,

constructed karma,
founded shifting sands of time,
dynamically brought

concepts of good and
evil to war with each other.
Positioned herself

in her suitable
orbit. Just follow the earth,
sit down, tame the fire.

Spin your existence
like her, and maybe you'll see
there's no need for breath

when wind fills your lungs.
Find your own balance within,
fight your own battle

learn desire serves
to feed flames, continue pain
life makes suffering.

Don't lose this battle
or your forces might make you
stay the same person.

If after you find
yourself trapped up on the moon,
don't fear traveler.

Fleeing far from home
you have started your journey!
One day you may find

Your own heaven place,
a perfect spot just to watch
the cosmos below.

And a star like me,
one day you're destined to be.
transcend all your pain

until we same speak.'
That's why I look to the stars,
through unsurety

I will keep swimming.
Knowing one day full well, I
belong in the sky.
There's no need for breath when the wind fills your lungs -- each stanza is a haiku
Jan 2018 · 567
Drowning
Quinn Jan 2018
He reads clouds in the sky,
sees wind's great works of art.
Bobbing gently through each wave,
While he floats and dreams in a lake,
secretly seaweed wraps around his body.

Foggy underwater waves make his mind,
body, and lungs set desperatley fighting
in a breathing brought war of water and air.

The boy is drowining, an idyllic dream
landscape lake turned into a nightmare.

Slowly as seaweed and currents bring
his body to the dark depths of the lakescape,  
malice endrapes itself through
one ear and out of the other; fate.

The bubble blood life force of the boy from air,
turns slowly to liquid, and his ghost dissolves.

Coldness lingers and clawing weakly
through frictionless water,
lake bottom hits and frozen fingers.

This boy's brain beginningly starts
disentigrating as it processes
the trickle drip
flow and ebb of
lake currents that sound
and surround each thought.

He remembers each
whispering wave
telling him to get in,
with the sun beating down,
the enticement to drown.
And his mother's voice
yells to him from a
heavenly place,
but he knows his watery
tomb will become ear muffs
for his mother when the
depths
finally win:
will his life force to its bitter end.

Back on black lake mud,
and the sun framed in waves
in the glowing waters above.
And the tangled arms of seaweed
beckon those that leasure
on the surface.

Childhood faces and
feel good places
dissapear from his mind.

At the bottom of the lake,
this boy becomes himself,
with the world's first hinting
of trauma, he let his naivity die  
in a dramatic show, body blows
and a new manifesticity to sit by.

With each inhale of water,
this kid's childhood dies.
And by the time he resurfaces,
he has lost what it means to be alive.
Drowning is scary
Jan 2018 · 326
Ode to Shaving His Neck
Quinn Jan 2018
I miss shaving his neck in the shower.
It was my favorite thing to do because
a shaved neck
smoothed my canvas
of kisses and
bruises.

It was my favorite thing to do because
he was vulnerable.
He naked stripped
shamelessley
bare for me only,

until the day he made me realize something.
I was vulnerable in the shower too.

That morning his hand just wasn't enough.
Fresh wetted face from shower droplets
tears
and him

shoved me to the shower floor
subjected waterboarding, I thought
love was me shaving his neck in the
shower.

But love,
is me,
cowering,
on the bathroom floor,
casually offering my
inner chest's key
to his griping hand,
and his moaning throat.
still my favorite thing to do though
Jan 2018 · 233
Antidepressants
Quinn Jan 2018
i think i forgot to take my pills today
because

i swear somebody just slammed a car door
behind me

why else would my ear be ringing and my
body jumping

unless that was simply the sound of my
neck snapping.

as my
brain
body dis-
connects
and every-
thing
looks like a
circle be-
cause it
all whizzes
past me
my body
can't
respond
because

yes

that was the sound of my neck snapping.

Maybe i just rolled my head
back too hard in agony
tragic forget-mistake

'take these
everyday'

'or what?'

'you might feel like yourself'

what a thought.

This can't be me-
i've cried three
times today, please
someone tell me
why i can't sleep
without dreaming
...
because i always
have to wake up.
I hate missing a day, I always feel insane :P
Jan 2018 · 483
mr. nobody
Quinn Jan 2018
My name is Mr.
Nobody, and where I live
no one notices

me. Except for my
reflection, and through swirling
chaos, my mirror

taught me, to mask my
insides, lights behind my eyes
with an outside that's

also me, just a
bit more brittle. My shell that
I wear doesn't like

think or care about
people's little problems while
skinny starve-people

sit in the sand while
I hear bubble-people speak.
The innocence in

them concealed as a
person, hasn't been pricked
by the planet's harsh

criticisms, and
the people they haven't grown
up to be yet are

trapped in fast tracked
single mindedness, without
seeing life's puzzle.

I dance my way through
a lost portrait of chaos,
have you ever thought

of the forbidden
garden of eden? Was it
a fruit perched in a

garden? Or the earth
that I walk on. Do people
think about stillness

before biting from
the perfect enclosed system
that beauty and trees

were frame formed out of?
Gaia kissed me then spoke
I blended into

her perfect portrait,
no more important than a
droplet of water.

Insignificance
is inherent to life and
I hate when people

think themselves taller
than forests or think deeper
than creatures living

at the bottom of
the ocean. My mirror sits
frozen behind each

of my eyelids, so
each time I blink I transport
to tranquility,

only to open
my eyes and find spaces full
of bubble-people

who have not yet learned
to blink, world shrink perceived as
the seven seas world

breezes and knowledge
that is fake and brittle. and

My
   name
            is
               Mr. Nobody
                          and where I live
                                   no one notices me
                                              except for my reflection.
It is so easy to be invisible these days...
Quinn Jan 2018
I used to love you
but now I don't know
who you are...
-mother

She asks me why I am
shape-shifted from nice
to mean.

Bang bang bang
goes my body against the
side of a bathroom door.

I don't know what you mean, I told her,
I have just lost my love for people.

My friends tell me,
'You must've had a good time
last night" When they see the
back scratches etched up my
spine.

If only they saw my tears
flowing free and wild
like a raging river from a poster
dentists put up in their offices
so little kids can pretend like pulling
teeth doesn't hurt when it happens
next to someplace peaceful.

What made you so mean?

The clang clang
crash of my head
against a wall and his
finger between my teeth
made me mean.

The taste of blood
under the covers
made me mean.

He made me mean.

I miss the subtle simplicity
summer sweet electricity
of my childhood julys.

When I counted the clouds
and made trees into palaces
with my mind.

Found time ties down my
imagination and chips away
at each childhood memory.

Replacing hot happy colors with
blue green and grey, laying
positivity sweetly to its grave
singing a song while sneering
at its body secretly.

That is why I am mean mom,
it is not because of you,

it is from the world, society
kills itself every day
Working ourselves to
death and shaming those
who take their own lives
early.

Pandemics freeze flash
millions of people's lives,
but in countless eyes
third world tragedy simply
doesn't exist.

Hyperconnectivity and
antidepressants define
my generation, what about yours?
And when he finally finished,
he ran out of the stall,
and into a crowded street,
without looking me in the eye.

That is why I am mean.
Sometimes boys hurt boys too

— The End —