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KM Hanslik Dec 2022
Bury me 10 feet deep
put me to sleep like the rest of them;
you know we only ever get the best surprises
like flooded deserts and loss of autonomy;
and things kept hidden are only half-unwritten –
why can’t you move more carefully? You
can see this bruising, this catastrophe –
Why don’t you be a little nicer with her
and try your hand at a softer
mental obstacle course?
Maybe your shoulders wouldn’t strive so hard
if you walked on your feet instead,
but you’re grabbing and grasping and letting
your fingers direct the thoughts in your head;
parasitic infestations ruined all three
of my homes, but you’ll find
the evidence was walled by fire; and ash can hide
most secret pains –
so lull me to sleep with the promise of reconstruction,
but damnation is looming and I’m trying in vain to
un-curse these nightmares, before they further
entangle me;
your empathy shows when I count to three, and then
swallows self-pity and recedes again –
Why do these cycles never end?
Jordan Gee May 2022
God made me into a marionette
He pulled me from the dust
He scooped me out of coals.
He breathed life into my belly
and now they call me animated earth.
He carved my bones from alabaster stones
long buried under piles of pine needles and leaves
He sang songs of Light and Life
and put them in my ears
and taught me all the words
and cut me silver keys.
now i stand up tall
like the Lighthouse of Alexandria
or the Colossus of Rhodes
i take showers under jungle waterfalls
full of orchid petals
and with angel fish climbing up the rock walls.
my head and all my limbs are hanging by
golden silken strings and threads
and where I walk the moss and lichens grow.
He fashioned my eyes from glass
blown over the hot geysers
and sulfur springs
of thermopylae
and the salt basin dunes.
He plucked my pupils from the pregnant blackness
of the Void.
He struck them over steel and flint
and the sparks made it bright enough to see.
my heart is a time-piece
keeping minutes with its beats
like a great shadow cast behind a sphere.
the elements once kept me apart from me my identity,
I was a hungry ghost
walking around town like a hypodermic voodoo doll.
everytime I turned around
I tripped over another basket full of rattlesnakes
hissing from both ends.
I gave up and crossed my heart
and gave it over to the chemical egregore
hoping I would die while somehow staying alive
and learning how to fly away home-
so i could leave all the piles of ashes and teeth alone
and maybe plant a rose garden.

but God made of me a marionette
strung me up from strings of silken gold.
He breathes for me,
and dances me to the music of the spheres
and now the whole planet is a
Hanging Garden of the Fallen Babylon
and now I keep snakes
as exotic pets
and as company
when i’m lonely
and for afternoon tea.
I am suspended
It’s like the only time I can see outside of this hole
Is when I’m trying to make sure others don’t see
That I’m digging it deeper
And falling
Until I can’t get out
EmVidar Feb 2022
How do I pull myself out
when I am buried
6ft under

-em vidar
leave me in the garden to die.
i will not let you save me-
leave me alone with the dead leaves of autumn,
with the coldness of winter settling in my bones.
i don't want to be saved-
leave me along the dead and decayed
and come back to bury me in the spring.
i have left to find death,
to pick it's flowers and to finally rest.
21 avril 2021
17:50 pm
One day I will meet my end.
Will your face fade from my eyes?
I lay buried with you in my heart.
The circling sun and moon come together in a line.
Abstinence and honesty lose their grip.
I die bit by bit seeing the quiver of your lip.
O beloved, I implore you to give me your heart.
Standing on the other shore, longing to reach you.
Him Feb 2021
I managed to find the beauty, buried beneath your pain; your little bit of sunshine, life had buried; though its possession you retained.
It was a good find, now we can both search for mine.
Daisy Ashcroft Jan 2021
is this
what it feels like
to be a fossil
in the making?
to have pebbles,
sand and grit
swept slowly
on top of me.
not to mention
the crushing
and deafening
of miles of water
pressing it all down
to bury me.

but sometimes
sometimes there's
relief and light
when someone
digs through the
weight to reveal
the shadow of the
creature that once
lay there.
but then that husk
is reduced to
cinders in a mountain
of others.
and i guess you could say
that 'power station'
is adulthood.
or life.
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