Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Simone Zona Nov 2018
i come to you half mad with desire
my *** turned to sacrifice;
starved, like an Unwatered flower,
A wretched *****,
A sacred *******,
A temple of worship,

Do you remember How you created me?
In A sort of Rebirth, out of the carcass I once was
Aching to be consumed
All my flesh and bones and sinews,
Stripped away.
Now, just the soft dew of our skin,
The clear thickened air dressed in fire
Smoked by the scents of sage and salt
evoking numberless poems

For me to swim through your body
back and forth in a sacred liturgy
Bloodied and purified I am Laid bare before you now
amidst The white sheets of  the alter
A purity of sin almost worthy of  worship,
almost crying out the holiness of lust before the gods.
And Our velvet kiss turning to a midnight confession
all of our vices and virtues
Are as blood and as sky.
Based off the concept of physical love and religious love as being two manifestations of the same impulse.
Simone Zona Nov 2018
When lilies of pain bloomed from soil saturated in
and lust
Mother Gaea gave birth to her most wretched daughter
A Stifled and stillborn and butchered daughter
A sacrificial lamb, of a daughter
An empty and anguished and defiled daughter

An ache
who was born from the corpses
left clinging together after the dust has settled.

An Ache
who’s cries were the imminent whistle of a descending bomb.

An Ache
who’s very breath was fulled with our most desperate whispers and prayers.

We set Gaea ablaze,
Left her singed and seared and amputated,
nothing but the sharp-edged fragments of what was,
burning away at memories of the battles that lingered still on her tongue.
A forest fire consuming and destroying itself, yet continually growing,
Growing enough to
and burn
and burn
And burn
but not quite ****,
Only to leave her daughter alive.
A daughter left to roam  the blistered cadaver of her mother,
An Ache, still alive,
Alive and sickly and sweet
Full of beating blood and sticky wet breath.
Simone Zona Nov 2017
She sits in stoop, low over the sodden earth
Pressing herself  to leave an impression in the muck
some sort of public confession,

That she actually exists.
Swallowing whole all things dead and dying, but
Her own unsubstantiated concept of
Living, defying her purpose
In insipid contradictions

To her needless desperation to grow.
To prove her own mass substantial
Absorbing into herself all things that seem too real,
That threaten her absoluteness
That threaten to have existed before her
Simone Zona Oct 2017
Sad and sunken, sloppy
Reclining in their paperback seats
Heads lolling forward like they are made of
The rags they are clothed in.

Rags they sleep with. Clutched like a child's
Blankie to hold them down on the
Concrete bed made from their cold and hard
But soft words, that built their bones
And concaved skulls, empty but

Open like a bowl to be filled,
Like their stomachs will remain unfilled,
Like their stomachs
Un-used and un-taught.

Soft, sloping, shoulders,
Slick but slump tongue,
Too heavy at the base of their throats
To speak and sigh,
They sway in their hollow frames
And sink lower in the cold.
Simone Zona Oct 2017
They carry the body out at 5.37 p.m on a Sunday.

Cloaked under shadows of cloth, in the blackness of

We lay dead-empty as we watched.

They hovered with bleached masks and lay hands, cold,
On the still colder flesh, They pressed flesh on flesh,
Imagined life in hallowed cheeks,
They tried to bring more out of 63 kg of
Flesh and bone, spoke to break the seal of death  
With remembrance

The body rotted below the cloth
The body grew stiffer, colder
And nothing more
Inspired by writings of Hughes
  Jun 2017 Simone Zona
Abie Johnson
The surreal walk to the unknown
Chemicals burn in our bloodstream
To wear it off
Walk till the break of dawn

We ignite our thrills
Engines roar
To conquer our midnight thrists
You will hear it
When it nears

Vanish into the night
Listen to the whispers
That it wants you to hear
Shift down for the shear rush
Through the abandoned leads

Trip down the memory lane
It wasn't our hunger in the first place
Just scripting of a memory to be made
The Needed cherish when everything fade
  Jun 2017 Simone Zona
Ryan Holden
Tasting your skin
Whilst you scratch my thirst,
A flavour into the uncharted,
Flashing lights on our taste buds
As we fall into one another's worlds,
Our legs intertwine like vines,
Our breaths match simultaneously,
You raise your back like you're
Stretching your senses into my soul,
I separate you into two dimensions
And you still come back
For another whole universe
To explore.
Next page