Your eyes are so precise and accurate
The lens of your gaze
Deep thought

Smiles.

Each moment in time ;)
Full of life
The canvas is empty
/amber heart pouring out
I am yours.

little dragon you are pure
cursed in sight and gift
tossed in the September moon.

Words come undone by a silent muse.

I looked at you
The way an artist
Would look at a naked woman.
Your bottom lip was designed
For kissing,
Your hands for crafting,
And there was a picture in every moment
I have shared with you.

I saw that we fit together
So very perfectly,
But the subjective camera
Was only me.


--Eleanor

Venus sighs.

a camera on your own life
a camera in every room
following your daily routines
from dus(t) until Dawn
your apps have cameras
so you can update your day
like you update your software;
you update your Instagram

The noose tightens.

reality Game
no escape from the fly eggs
grubs in your routine
stitches on your day
you can’t look away or put it down
bombardment;
the reality game show re-union special
happens every time you look down
old reality recap episodes on loop in your head,
etc., etc.

Venus died
and you didn't even tweet about it.

Semi-permeable
translucent vibes;
rhythm through
a château door
into neon nights,
and lanterns like
red-eye photos
look down on us.
They look down
on me, and they
see me shaking
the vibes out on
cement cobble-
blocks. I got the
cancer / excess
disease, we say
I'm the new-old
where the auto-
focus is good
but around us
is gaussian blur
forgotten future.

She saw the world through a camera lens
And that's just how it was
With filters and Glares from strangers
Who didn't feel the sun
She took photos of the rain
And dewdrops on the grass
Of smiling warm faces
And things that were just crass
She dreamt of her pictures
Under bylines and over books
Her documents of others
Filled with stills that could speak words
She took pictures of her girl
Who was black and blue in depth
Who wanted to be colored
But her filter shown red
She captured her in pain
And in her rare bright smiles
She told her that things
"Just take a while"
She made portfolios and scrapbooks
Of their adventures and their muse
She never knew that her girl would take her life
At a quarter after two
She cried and cried weeks to days
Until the tears just stopped
When she took a photo of the rain
And felt her sadness drop
It shattered all around the floor
And she fumbled with the keys
She printed all the pictures
And posted them with ease
She scattered them around the town
Then fell down to rest
For she could feel a burden being
Lifted off her chest
she went to the school
Of the boy who had hurt her
And her girl
She stood up
She told them
"Has she finally done enough?
She ripped her skin with blades
And fasted for days.
She lit skin on fire
Just because you are liars.
Look at this picture
Do you see her
Look mister
She was beautiful
Yet you made her feel
Like she was void of zeal
You're the ones who told her what to do
And she took her own life
Just like you told her to do.
Are you happy now!
Or are you feeling blue
Are you regretting what you told her to do!"
And with a single crack
Of a baseball bat
she took a picture
Of there bodies cracked shells
As she plumbed them to hell
She saw that red filter
And she felt the pain inside
She could feel herself laugh
Mania arise
The she took one final shot
A picture with the the two
Then killed herself to rise anew
And she got her picture under bylines
And became famous for her art
For everyone loves the artist
Who kills for their art.

As she took off her shirt on a one way camera.
She knew he only wanted to see her nakedness.
"because you look good in clothes but you
look much much much better naked"
All this love he proclaimed, where
only sweet nothing to tear her clothes off.
Her bra came off, then her shirt.
She laid there staring into text.
Not his face, not his voice, just words.
Thinking to her self, he's using me,
but I'm allowing it.
because all we will ever be is cam buddies,
where she was the center of attention.
AS if her nakedness could make him fall for
her quirky, clumsy hopeless romantic self.
All her bare chest could ever do is let him blow off some steam.
because "it's really **** when I can see them bounce."
On and Off that's what he liked about her,
he could let her go and know she'd pick up the pieces
until he came back to make her faulter again.
She was his slave, because no one ever made her
feel more like **** and a princess
all at once, than he did.
He was the monster in her heart with the resemblance of Gods.

camera around my neck
tears in my eyes
a lump in my throat
a pen in my hand
notebook in my lap
glasses on face
ponytail in my hair
headphones around my head
and yet, you are still on my mind.

(a.b)