#joanofarc
it is true 5.31.25 (10:03 pm / 22:03)
it is true i wished to die,
and perhaps so i wish still,
is this not lawful for all
prisoners?
it is true that my first thought
on a balcony was how far the fall
and not how beautiful the view
is this not lawful for all those trapped?
i am a bird in a cage
the key is sitting just outside
i am the swan with clipped wings
leda of sparta
no longer a girl
but still unable to fly away and escape
it is true,
it is true,
it is true
it is true i wished to fly,
and so i wish still,
is this not lawful for all birds?
[playing: softly by clairo]
Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 11:19 AM UTC
Her passion was life
Her agony was divine
Her choice was death
Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 7:01 AM UTC
To be different is what defines our character
Is it wrong to be ourself
Is it a crime to grow up living up to what you believe
Where lies our Joan of arc who will burn for our own desires
It makes all the difference in the world to be different
If we would all be the same, our individual would die just like the ashes of those who have fallen for our freedom
Never give up being different
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC