#musicbox
dancing on a moonless night
the air is cold
stars the only light
a lacy white dress
flowing with her movement
is she porcelain
or is she human
a music box plays
while she slowly spins
her limbs held together
with staples and pins
sweet tinklings and chimes
while she closes her eyes
trapped in a hell
a soft gentle demise
winding down
the music slows
to staccato notes
there is no flow
just jerky beats
eventually
silence
my hands reach for the key
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 9:58 AM UTC
& I think maybe that’s what’s fked me up the most
The people that have hurt me the most were those that were close
& those that didn’t care
Smiled, acted polite & shared
Their fake, crowd pleasing personas
with me
Smile to my face, then vanish into black
Only to text back
Months later
Oh sorry, it’s been hectic
I’ve been soo busy
Finding myself
Far away from you
But would you like to come out for a brew
Perhaps
Meanwhile the people that tell me they love me
The people that tell me they’ve always had MY best interests in mind while they themselves made decisions that affected me
Without me
Leaving me for my own good
Staying away from me for my own good
Telling me that I’m too good
For them
& which one is better
Really
Which one is worse
Or more real
Is anything real..
Anymore?
All I know is that I’m tired of the ****
This technological abyss
Where people can come & go as they please
Eternally
IT’S NOT OKAY
I will not come out to play
I will not twirl & dance for you
Every time you want to wind me up
For old times sake
So you can recreate
A distant memory of former bliss
What is this?
But utter confusion
You’re delusioned
If you think I’ll ever spin near your orbit again
& no we can’t “stay friends”
For fks sake
Just leave me be
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
a box so small,
made to enthrall
a beautiful mystery,
a sweet harmony
a calming tune,
going so soon
a gentle lullaby,
just passing by
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC
*The box remained shut.
His fingers probe but with invisible eyes.
Finding the clasp that had forgotten the last time.
With the lid pried open,
the dancer would soon arise.
•••••
As expected, she rose...
Accompanied by a tune, truly a haunting sound.
She slid and pirouetted.
She fulfilled the promise to which she was bound.
Her routine was well rehearsed.
She embodied the music, as it carried her.
It mattered not if it was for a single audience.
She cared not if there was no other.
She performed like she might never again,
she inhaled the moment like it was her last.
She sung the song silent like she always would,
she embraced her dance like sail unto mast.
Then the melody slowed,
as the tension in the spring
played itself unwound.
This day for her, had drawn to a close...
But renewed hope for a new one is found.
•••••
He hesitated before resting the lid upon its case.
He caressed his dancer as his eyes start to smart.
His ears would yearn for the song in his head...
He would surely miss the dancer in his heart.
But he knows
when days grow dark
and filled with strife.
The music box lies ready...
And his dancer will again
come to life.*
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC
Part IV: Strings Through Face
How it works is far beyond me,
But what it holds my eyes can capture.
Twist the knobs and find the right keys,
Twist the knobs and my face is captured.
I have no face.
I cannot see but I still wonder.
My eyes are gone.
Where is the lightning?
As I hear the thunder.
This music box ate my face alive!
Stringing out my sight!
Where are you?
Tearing off my nares!
Who are you!
Sewing close my jaw!
Why are you...
My face is lost!
Father, my face is gone!
I need another...
This music box defiles my slumber!
Father!
Do you hear my calls?
My face is lost father, where did I go wrong?
The air around is dead,
I cannot let it in.
My voice outside cannot be said,
But I need an answer...
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
O' music box,
With many strings,
Why imprison me?
Why cast your blades across the steely sky?
I must away, but you force me to stay.
When I was a boy, I saw unleashed upon you,
With my young eyes,
A proud disease.
My friend was sick; I could not heal him,
So all I could was smash and bash him.
He would not die, I did not cry,
For I was lost to my own music making box.
"Father, what is this gift? A toy?"
Asked I the living wandering boy.
"How does it work?"
Like death, my youngest self should have foreseen.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
Under the sun some time ago,
A violent, greedy form was shaking,
And was struck down, breaking,
By the Son of Heads he tried to pry apart.
But now he is living.
A light shows upon his wicked hooks.
Pointed at something glimmering behind the chorus of swords.
It brightly glares down, the lost appendages float around,
One strikes! Oh– what a sound!
If it just had a mouth it would scream for the world!
Its fingers bleed and are lost to their home,
Said home no longer bound to its segmented docks.
Bridges burning, joints are turning, liquids leaking,
The strings are singing, the clouds are cutting,
A God is laughing! A box is smashing!
"Pathetic fool! See where your arm is now?
Where is your body now? He can't help you,
The evil one that left him lost and helpless!
Powerless fool! You are nothing without him!
He is an engineer without a wrench,
And you a wrench without a *****
Another choked by the strings of many songs... lost."
The shadow bleeds. He cannot see.
Without a mind he cannot think.
The sheep has tamed and came to shame...
My shadow... bound to his remains.
Have at it, thwart, the shadow.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
This music box,
I can't believe,
Destroyed my wingless flying aim.
In the sky, the strings from Hell,
Suppress my need to pray and yell.
My Heaven's gate is locked with gold,
And my mindless snakes awaken...
Rising from below.
If they just had a teacher, maybe...
They could seek to love. One day...
We could fly above.
"You and me,
We were one.
What happened to the times we worked as such?
Our old machines fell into dust.
I have our mind, but I need some arms...
To break the heavens' golden lock.
I don't know much,
But I know my heart...
And unlike you it has not left me.
I have never known anything but...
The passion it has given me,
It is time to be risen!"
I am tired of living!
It is time to start dying...
Ascending!
"Let us build a machine to turn us to dust!
To let us be risen... released finally from this form.
I have been waiting for you, shadow.
I have the power, and you have the strength
To build a contraption and tear a hole in the sky."
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
A part of me became a fiend;
A treasurer that left my sleeves
To find the shiny end to all his dreams.
The flying of his lash upon the sphere
Has caused my own to go numb.
Twisted fingers wilting in the sun,
Prying apart the singing Son of Heads
With all his bleeding life; he was found dead.
A proud disease was born a sheep.
Guided by a shepherd's hand to show its face across the desert sand
Until he dropped the leash.
Wild poison spilled upon the civil streets.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
This music box,
With many locks, and countless knobs,
These melodies play on its strings,
They're nightmares that contain my dreams.
This music box,
A proud disease,
Cannot sustain my faulty sleep.
If I thunder down the walls,
Within, another structure stalls.
O' music box!
Open enclosure that can't release!
Calming madness in a silent stream,
Lined with boulders and a storming breeze!
Collect my thoughts!
Within this music box,
An open sea, yet no sea released.
It tempts me with its pounding waves,
Arrests me, I can hear but I must see.
I am trapped, and just this box can set me free!
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
I cut her vocal chords & stitched her mouth shut.
To keep her voice from emanating like petrichor.
I stored her echoes inside a music box to sing me to sleep.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC