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 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
bucky
“instructions on how to destroy yourself from the ground up, and vice versa”
i say i think i am a better ghost-- and she says, dont be so cliche
this isnt a fairytale, this isnt Wonderland

, but i was born shoving the barrel of a gun down my throat like it was someone else’s tongue
and after a while they start to taste the same
less like a herald and more like sour lips curling around a sentence over and over “nobody exists anymore
welcome to the Forgotten era--”
swallowing glass just so my throat wont feel so empty
when she kisses me she says shes sorry
when she says my name it sounds like a swearword, like her mouth is too brittle to sound it out right
“instructions on how to build the perfect barricade”, start with enough wood to burn yourself to the ground
start over. start over. start over.
(seventeen crumpled dollars and a neon sign that says WELCOME TO PARADIS, comical in a way that makes a nine year old on a too-small bike start crying)
We Need To Talk / cutting your bangs uneven with a pair of scissors you found in an abandoned building / LACHRYMAL: CONNECTED WITH WEEPING OR TEARS
“instructions on how to change the way your name sounds”
i bleed empty promises,call people in the middle of the night just to say that I’m Fine
(i dont even remember the last time i ****** awake coughing up consonants, trying to
rebuild myself, i swear!)
she says my name right and it’s a tuesday. there are guns on a basement wall twenty miles away
, and it’s raining outside
, and she tells me she likes the way it sounds
(she swallows it whole)
 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
bucky
i will suffer no fruits or faults
no laboring hands:
just the sun, and the sky behind it
 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
bucky
"i know it's cliche but-"
your throat is a graveyard spitting up coffee grounds and
used tissues / toilet paper / whatever you can get your hands on
(everything you own is covered in blood.
this is normal)
vulnerability turned burial shroud / tent / house
hotels arent wastelands for you to learn to hate yourself with
(
"i know, i know
not everything is a burial ground, etc"*)
glittery and sick and tired
[ and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning and burning ]
I can feel
her absence,
like swallowing
a cold
knife. 

The blade 
slices slowly,
deeper
with each
heartbeat.  
Tasting 
sorrow
like copper. 

A cold
steel shard
that rests
against
my heart. 

But will it cut?
Can you still bleed?
Do you love?
An autumn 
sunbeam on
the edge of my
childhood bed,
curled up with my
softly purring cat
nestled by my side. 
Two unlike creatures,
brought together in warmth.
 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
Zay
We say that times have changed
Yet the issues in the news
Remain the same
Three Muslims shot
Over a "parking dispute"
Yet the media news
Can't get to the root
Of the hateful crime
Committed by a brute
Too busy reviewing
Fifty Shades of Grey
While unjust crimes
Are carried out everyday

And why do we let ISIS
Receive so much fame?
And why is it that every
Muslim is to blame?
Associating a belief
With violence and terror
But it is among us
Where you'll find the true error

Using religious excuses
To **** off God's creations
Manufactured missiles
Sweeping entire nations
Thousands dead
With nothing left to gain
And those who survive
Are left with terminal pain

Seeing tears in the eyes of a mother
Her son buried deep
By the prejudice of another

How far will we go
Until we see the wrongdoings?
Cuz once a life is gone...
There is no undoing

Segregating humans
By religion, ***, and race
My beliefs may be different
But I am no disgrace

We classify ourselves
With things like melanin
As if our destiny
Is determined by our skin

Ignorance causing our vision to be impaired
Can't accept the unusual
Cuz we're too scared
Too scared of the truth
So we hide behind lies
Too scared of being left out
So we wear a disguise
Morphing ourselves
Into what is accepted
Turning into clones
Fear of being rejected

But it's time to wake up
Time to accept
The difference in our land
Time to end
The suffrage that is at hand
Time to unite ourselves as one
Time to put down the weapons
And put away your gun
So join me now
To spread the love
And to silence the hate
Our world may not be perfect
But it's never too late.
Decided to incorporate a few more lines to this poem.

"Mankind must put an end to war, before war puts an end to mankind."
 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
ΟΥΤΙΣ
vi
 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
ΟΥΤΙΣ
vi
a good too many
snaps and cracks
from the skeletal forest
a gentle brushing
from an acrylic wind
that promenades itself
on marble toes
that crack and shatter
in gouache throes of
violence that
gilds the branches in
flowing starlight
a craggy ribcage
of sprouts and succulents
that paint a scene with
watercolor irony
an eager scrawling
of earthbound rabble
that hops freight trains
and skips life away
a conflict of self
flourished in opals
and ravished in
scented velvet
a good too many
fears and
desires
 Mar 2015 tiniestseed
ΟΥΤΙΣ
and in it she stood

awash with crescented chrysanthemums

with honeysuckle skin and wisteria eyelashes

and with it i said

if nights were like coins

id spend them all on you

and twinkle them between my fingers

shaking them up and admiring

the glint and value of

the night and its stars

and the coppery, nickel-y dusk

that stains my hand with

the bouquet of metal and flowers



goldenrod warmth

from nights and coins

invariably spent

alongside only you

with a perfume of

evening

and pressing summer heat

and my whispers and promises

that tell you

that if nights were like coins

id spend them all on you
lots of wordplay in this one, particularly with pressing (of heat, coins, and flowers) and bouquet (an arrangement of flowers or a characteristic scent)
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