pronouncing beauty, eloquism i've dealt with,
a lit-up candle resembling a snowflake
in the middle of weary summer—
hearth, solitude, and soulmates
have particular habits,
like one i seldom right now:
never get my hair blow-dried
after having cut them down,
knowing i wouldn't go to those lengths again,
or see the styled version—
that's as real as your plains.
wouldn't be there the next day, would they,
when i wake up, a messy bedhead,
stars on my skin, nightmares stained in purpose—
guesses on that somewhere along the ride,
i accepted the chaotic messy half curls
and half waves of my dusted heathery heathens.
learn my language if you must:
private with a public intensity,
burning in paradoxes and flameproof identities.
there's multiple facets of how you live—
decisions, situations, ironies, as you will,
weaponize descent, set trademarked positions.
loathsome evil little creatures,
annoying in proof,
existing by mere chance—
i despise them all through.
but oh, do they deserve love?
perhaps, maybe they do—
from those who speak their words
and listen to them swoon.
deities settled atop the mountain of lies,
dancing in between the lines.
truth is a factor—
those eyes, they lie:
iridescent, accompanied with desires,
breathing vacuum, eating dust,
speaking their shares even as they shy.
spider webs curling upon oneself,
eight-legged creatures grinning at the fresh catch.
fakers faked their own fake selves,
hid secrets of the sacred mess in their chests.
i live for i.
give up, for you shall—
i've some offers to make.
but before, offering some tea—
oh, on the side,
would you like some scones dipped in earth, perhaps?
got told off, but the comment read,
"this is like setting fire to the prologue, channelling the inner sylvia plath, but make it- being dragged through the modern ruins."
nothing rhymes
