#rustle
Course splinters as I brush my hair.
I deal with my brittle armor
One external body plate at a time
I rub on layers of oil
And stand in a warm place
I try to cure the tough weathering of my proceeding age
But this is just maintainance
And now this morning task is done
It's time to turn my mind to the rust of the day
And the leaves from off of the list
At designated times I shall take my pellets
Bend my limbs
And take a rest for the energy
Then quiet my stirrings
And return to the excercises of a daily span
Bed to a bed
And all the focuses accordioning inbetween
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
Everyone is quiet,
Papers rustle,
The slow speed fan
Creaks above our heads,
The air conditioning
Is broken,
We start to sweat
From sunlight coming in
Through the tintless windows.
Exhausted,
We sit in silence,
Unwilling to share
Information.
Miserable in this heat,
Someone drops their pen.
As he picks it up
The room sighs,
Almost as if in relief
That he retrieved it,
While no one else moves.
It's far too hot for that.
The table smells like mothballs,
And the people around me
Smell like sweat,
Perfume and cologne.
You can smell the coffee
Oozing from their pores.
Bloodshot eyes,
Aching backs,
And all-consuming stress.
I'm in class.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:46 AM UTC
You are
The whispering of the sea
Crashing anger at violent shores-
Lapping lovingly at lonely rocks.
You are
The affectionate bite,
And pressed tooth on lip. A brutish
But gentle expression of passion.
You are
The soft murmur of uncertainty,
Rustling against soft skin-
A (lost) exhale of heaving breath.
*Your skin and flesh and bones
Are I think not made of
All the same stuff as mine.
You are water; you're iron;
You are whistling wind.
You're the purest sin
In which I've ever sunk.*
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC