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Pauline Russell Jun 2017
I can feel the monsters skull trying to break out
I can feel the snout slowly growing stout
I can hear the growls deep and fearful start
A crack of all the bones, a moving of the parts
Writhing in pain falling to the ground
No longer can a human form be found

Why are you braced to run
Don't you want to have some fun
After all you called it out from me
When you made my emotions bleed
You was so very **** obstinate
Now turn and face the consequence

He licks his lips, he can taste your lies
He stares intently into your eyes
There is nothing he can't find
Nothing can you hide
Looking you over
He takes a big sniff of your odor
He takes your face in his claws
To him you must plea, he makes the call
Are you worthy of me at all
For my Monster won't rip, won't tear
He'll simply make you miss what use to be there.

©Pauline Russell
Chloë Fuller Mar 2017
wrapped around each other closer than sheets to a bed
fuzz. eyelashes. teeth. soft skin.
you completely disarm me.
i will give you all my guns
just grab my limbs.
envelop me.
the way your legs get tangled in my anatomy like a sapling
that's eager to grow larger.
pelvic bones crashing together so perfectly clumsy.
you are my ocean. my beach. my sun, sky, and stars.
QST Oct 2015
Just beyond the crest of the mountain's white shawl
the sea turned suddenly jaundiced,

a weighed stillness, not quite your own,
ascended, and even the white sail

and mast lingered motionless,
in a calm that bore no calmness at all.

And for what must have been the lengthiest
of moments you obscured, an instance of years,

captivated by the sinewy white strand
in your mind, its form swaying,

tearing the fabric of the shore,
subduing grains of sand and crumbled shells,

as fainted memories scurried into your vain, terse thoughts
which suddenly felt as though they were

made to be forgotten all along, something
stolen from the set of someone else's epic.

And years later you would just remember
how it was you were pulled apart,

or what force it was that drifted you
with the strength of a tide bringing you to safety,

or how the wave at once lifted, lifted,
like a needle from a phonograph

above the roofs of trees still trembling;
and when you looked up again

it was through white strokes of clouds
spurred across the sky

the light fragrance of sea breeze
leaking through your pores,

beyond which the world shone as blue
and peaceful as it ever would again.
Inspired by Greg Watson's "Tornado" - some form of an imitation.

— The End —