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Paul Idiaghe Sep 24
I await the calm, the bleach
of night, that chapter

when my ribs
unbreak, crawl back

around my cageless heart. eyelids
weigh like lead in this cruel gravity--

they swell faster than tears. tears
that fail to surge me out of this flooded

shell; they close
like every marble door

that stands straight between my dreams
and I,

           and you-- I await
you, draped in downpours & monsoon

tempests; maybe, this time, our wildest
winds would fade out in their collision.
nom de plume Sep 12
what does it say about me
that i think hunger
is what angels sound like?
lineless and with great aching.
and what does it say about me
that i feel like i could
just pull my pelvis bone
from my hip
and watch it
crumble in my hands?
i couldn't sleep so i
traced my bones,
i couldn't sleep so i
felt my gums,
(my skins got a great story that
no onell ever read
fitting, i guess -
i've yet to be anything but
wasted potential.)
despite everything,
there is something comforting
about the lie of a body.
something human in me yet.
what do i want the answer to be
when i feel my chest
and wonder where
my ribs came from?
it was an early lesson that
one must give up ribs
to be worthy of love.
rig f laurel Mar 26
clawing at my chest
my fingers, through ribs and flesh
to feel if it’s there.
Anastasia Jun 2019
roses in my ribs
lilies on my lips
pearls in my pockets
tulips on my tongue
honeysuckles on my heart
tiger flowers on my thighs
marigolds on my mirror
you make me bloom ♥
Glory Apr 2019
It is like having a twin, whose existence makes other people uncomfortable.
Like before I was born, only I was in the ultrasound.
And no one was prepared for her when she followed me into the world.
It is like having a shadow that does not just stretch out behind me,
But instead, she has attached herself to my back.
It is like she has hooked her fingers over the edges of my ribcage,
Her head is resting on the start of my spine.
Her heels are digging into my thighs.
People ask why I let her hang around,
As if I have a choice.
It is like everyone is waiting for me to admit that I want her.
It is like they are all expecting me to secretly bend so she can climb on,
I do not.
They think I like it when I want to laugh but hers is what they hear,
I do not.
They think I choose the days when she is with me, telling me the words to say
I do not.
They think that when I wake up, she is something I put on.
Like a favourite t-shirt or a sad song.
She is not.
She is with me when I wake up.
She is with me when I sleep.
She is with me when I take my clothes off.
She is like a second skin that I can’t shed.

Do not ask me to leave her behind
Because it is not my decision
I cannot control her hold on me
It is her who is pulling the strings

It is like having a side of me that no one wants to know.
- As if they don’t already know her.
She is me when I can not help being down.
She is me when I can hardly whisper a sound.
She is me when I laugh the hardest.
She is me when I am missed.
She is me no matter your belief.
And maybe one day she will walk away.
But until then,
She is me.
A second without her feels like an eternity in Heaven
M yesdniL adnamA Apr 2019
(written 12.3.18)

teeth bite sour tonic; smells like an ick in the brain
but every time the remedy’s killing, filling, thrilling
the same way the void does
i lick up my pain
we aren’t on the same plane
topography’s telling me you’re on a high in the sky
Icarus but you’re so afraid of the heights, the high
so you remain where you’ve lain
and if we do meet again you’ll understand
my roar, the demon rears its ugly head
snarling monsters need to be fed—
isn't that what you said?
pick up my tears, your fears, peer at it
look through the ribs, between the trees where it clears
porcupine needles poke through the glass
fast, fasting vastly
the lion, the witch, and the rat
. . . the plague . . .
shove those four words in my ears
. . . feed . . .
tell me i have an addiction, i know you think i need a prescription
but addicts have cunning actions
counting in fractions
my calculator consciousness, non-malfunctionable
demons fixed my wiring
salivating at the foul mouth,
i smell it but do not dare taste the plate
. . . neurons are firing . . .
you don’t know about all the horrors i face, caged, trapped in a place
where eyes are yellow and dim, bags purple and grim
snakes out on the limb
i’ll pluck the feathers out of your wings
you won’t need to climb to fall because the sun won’t do damage,
not when i know these things
you are weak, incapable, fell of a cliff
the wind, yes i know it is stiff
but you’ll find its so hard to resist
i’ll disassemble it all, but will it be enough for the monsters?
no, they want more than that
tell me i need to stop
tongue tastes like paper, touching the list
its dictating, telling the good from the bad
but sour lips will never be kissed
all alone in the garden, your body begins to turn rotten
i get to spend more time with the monsters that raised me
they praised me, they gave me
a savior
taught me to rid myself of you
crazed episodes become more intense
. . . repentance . . .
but i am alone in the garden now
demon on my shoulder, it pardons me as i fall to my knees
peer through the ribs, the void
and i say that i am happier
in the garden
among the demons and the dark fruit trees.
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