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Taylor Marion Nov 2014
Father, I have sinned.
Ive compelled myself a mate and painted my body gold, pure and metallic and let him hang me around his lacey neck like a chained noose.

Father, i have sinned.
Ive disappointed my appointments and made allies with my enemies. Ive lied to get to where i am and i stand legless because of it.

Father, i have sinned.
Ive cut open skin and got drunk from the blood, letting it trickle down my breast, wearing it like a jacket, using it tirelessly to keep me warm during my winter

Father, i have sinned.
I scripted cursively with my left hand and pointed accusingly with my right. Ive fought like a thinker and forfeit my heart.
Father i have sinned,
I loved without thought.
I have slept in my ***** sheets and bathed in my discretions, Father, this bed is not big enough for our overexhausted lessons.

Father, please forgive me
for i have sinned in spite of the sun. Ive predicted light for the losing side and because of that,
i've won a temporary victory.
Ending with, not surprisingly, my mother clawing me senseless,
her knuckles blistering my jabbing jaw.
She said, "I never thought id see a side to you much darker than i ever saw."
Now she looks to me much older, decrepit and disgusted, and i look to her a doppelganger of the man that left her faithless.

Father, i have sinned and unwittingly beg for your conviction. But your faith is what left my mother living breathlessly without a face. A face hauntingly well known. but if i keep on keeping on this sinning, a face just like yours ill own.
Taylor Marion Nov 2014
Deep down, there is a pulse.
A weak tremor of an adolescent heart. It loves profoundly and feels passionately. Dreams hopefully.
It may not be as fresh as it was once, but it endlessly and relentlessly aims to redeem itself.
Take your doubt and replace it with this.

Deep down, there is shelter.
An immortal ground for the comfort you seek to maintain. It hovers humbly and awaits patiently; remains unlocked when you're homesick. It invites you warmly and nourishes your hunger. Although tattered and tired, it remains standing storm after storm.
Take your doubt and replace it with this.

Deep down, there is a purpose.
It flutters when you smile and it consoles when you weep. It picks you up when your kicked and compensates when you're conquered. It's modest. It won't demand its presence and refuses to beg to be heard. It whispers. It listens. It knows its place and speaks when spoken to.
Deep down, its inside of you.
Take all your doubt and replace it with this.
Taylor Marion Aug 2014
Within slumber, you visit, though much more frantically than usual, but i still view you in a way where you dont bother disguising your grief.
I feel your dead-weight against my shoulder and it frightens me because i know with just one more burden, ill fall flat on my knees. Inferior emotionally like so many times before.

In this world, youre a tyrant, running around asking questions. Your uncertainty cannonballing into the ears of all my peers.
I understand and i sympathize bc i dont offer much condolence, im aware i leave you blinded behind my fear of you coming near.

All that surrounds is minor blackness amongst the finer, brighter things. Every planet within the galaxy rotating to platforms behind closed hinges.
We pick and choose our reality and physically adjust,
for a moment we receive all we ever wanted. But we just take it back everytime, letting lust gather dust.

We come back once again, and youre shaking from all the information you gathered from you trip. Another opinion, another lick.
You couldnt stand what my friends had said, all the worst of me condensed into single word answers, and the one your were awaiting was left hidden behind my tooth.

"Do you love me like i love you, or is this just another game you play?" you cried "Dont leave me in the dark, or ill just jump into it anyway."
This little carousel is spinning and you arent hesistant to leap, i watch your feet as they edge closer to the tip of your defeat. I stand motionless and speechless, but eager nonetheless. I want to tell you something but not the something you want to hear. But i guess the silence was louder than anything you could adhere.
You closed your eyes and tipped yourself and fell into the abyss, without thinking, i jumped after you. I couldnt stand not knowing where you'd land or if you'd miss.

I spring from blackout, vision ignited, and turn and see your face, your smiling with sleep still coating your eyes, desperate for the morning light and reveling in it's taste. I have to admit, its much sweeter than what i expected when you lept into the dark. Only to find our limbs entangled, certainty growing large.
  Jul 2014 Taylor Marion
Craig Harrison
Walking around like a pack of animals
Following each other
copying what we see,
What really separates us from animals?

We talk, we think, we try to explain
but we also follow, we do as we told, we believe what is said
We work, we build, we have fun
but I'm still not seeing what truly separates us from animals

The only thing that I see different is our power
anything different we try to hurt, **** or experiment on
if any animal behaved like a human
what do you think we would do to it?
We'd experiment, we'd ****, we would torture
or put it on TV and turn it in to a celebrity.

So I ask what truly separates us from animals?
Taylor Marion Jul 2014
Faint pink. That's the only color interpretation that comes to mind and the first one i see before i open my eyes every morning since we moved in. Since we caved ourselves inside this quaint little bungalow like grizzly bears.

Hibernating and marinating, we shared each others scent, cents, regrets and repents. Lented out love like dollar bills because we are homeless yet sheltered, somehow without a sugar-coated ceiling. Which is okay for us, for sometwos who revel in the occasional, sensual rain of our wooden cabin and the fragrant sunburn of its wick.

Day in and day out, we become ill just so we can give the shirts off our backs to wipe the sick from each other's bodies til we're nurished to health. Routinely follow every direction: lather, rinse, repeat, lather, rinse, repeat. Retreat.

Soon, through conditioning within the highs and lows of hiding away in our secret little bungalow remission, we'll inevitably realize that someday we'll have to make the final, unfavorable decision to light the match and liquor down our beds. Taking gulps with every pour.

We'll race out the door, down the deck, jump the fence and you'll hold my waist and slip the memory in the pocket of my back, yours the same. I'll rest my hands around your face, turn from the flames, engage in one last twine. We'll avert to part our seperate ways and wave 'cause we'll know that it's time.
Taylor Marion Jul 2014
Saber words and wordless fighting, all the makings of a war.
Just no resolution at the end, and no one keeping score.
The main objective is the progress of this process, to project all you can muster.
And what is expected of the other is, in truth, obeyed by design.

All the colors of a seasonal fall, the warmer hues contradicting us all because we know very **** well what cold is to come.
So wrap your jackets around your torso and glove your hands before the slap because my face is still bare and completely prepared for your crap.
Instill it in my veins with your hit, i beg of it. I want to feel the burn against my skin.

This cold war has lasted 40 years now and the storyline is starting to spin. Ending where it begins, but we pretend we dont know this anyway because we're bored and we want more ice and snow, any excuse to avoid stripping **** and displaying what bruises reside below.

"Dont show it" we cried.
"We are stronger than that" we try to believe, or attempt to believe.
"Hide!" you plead, the voice deep inside my mind.
I hear the echo of yours as well, as if together they are preaching like a choiring lead aligned.
Acquiring greed, which is expected of the other and is, in truth, obeyed by design.
Taylor Marion Jul 2014
A steady post lingers in the distance, reading "Allied Road." It's been abadoned for quite sometime now and the ruins are filled of relics. Dust.
We burned it down together, dont you remember?
With our propane tongues and Zippos the size of patches used to cover one eye.
Covering one eye, as we always did. You know it's true.

Sometimes when I'm alone with my thoughts of being alone without you, I take a barefoot stroll there.
This may sound abstruse, but letting my toes get lost in the ash reminds me of warm sand widow's-peaking an ocean shore.
That picture in my head alone reminds me of you.

It's much cloudier there. Dimmed. Gloom, almost as if the sun is too scared to go near it or the sky is relflecting the ground.
Either way, I try to keep my eyes closed as often as possible and let my imagination take control. Partly because the embers blow into and bug my eyes, but mostly because I simply want to.
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