Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
blankpoems Sep 2013
I am Lex
And I am Alexandra.
I am not “baby” or “darling”.

I have more flies in my house than friends.

I am eighteen years old
But I feel as though the number should have an extra zero.

I am a student in more ways than one; of school, of the universe, of the stars in the night sky that I used to swear you hung all on your own for my eyes-
my gray-blue eyes with specks of yellow light around the pupils that make it look like I have always just been dancing in the street lights.

My pupils expand like black holes when my serotonin levels even out.

I am so short that I could pass as a pixie.
Five feet and one inch of metaphors that are so deeply rooted into my bones.
My ribcage knows truth like you placed it in my lungs for me to breathe in.

My hair is so indecisive, it changes colour biweekly.
I was born blonde.
My brother was born blue with a cord around his neck.

Every night before he goes to sleep he asks me to scratch his back.
I am older than he.
I feel that I am older than most.

I like old things.
If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.
I need someone with an old soul, I’m all Elvis and vinyl and Marilyn Monroe.
I could listen to Paul Simon’s “Live Rhymin’” on phonograph until I drop dead.

I wish it were winter all year long
But I don’t like being cold.

I collect tattoos like fireflies in mason jars.

I’m on pills that are supposed to make me happy.
I don’t think I’ve been happy since 2009
and I miss Her every day.

I’m more scared of life than death
but I no longer want to embrace dying.
Sometimes you forget to breathe just for a second, and then you realize
what you would be missing.

I think my depression is sort of like that.
It’s like being a bird and you’re the only one that can’t fly.

Nonetheless, I wish for stillness.
For peace, for fun in flatlines.
I wish for summer days by the lake
and no cell phone service.

I yearn for California.

I love reading so much that if I got paid for it,
I’d be a billionaire by now.
If you look into my eyes you could probably see traces of Sylvia Plath.

I wonder sometimes why she stuck her head in that oven.

I like vegetarian sushi, so basically just vegetables.
I was a vegetarian for a long while but then I decided that I wanted a hot dog.
I still regret that sometimes.

I’m afraid of frogs but nothing else.
I like to watch scary movies with the lights off.
I love to sleep, but I’m an insomniac.
And most of the time Melatonin doesn’t even knock me out.

I don’t believe in God but I believe in ghosts.
I don’t believe in hell but for Her sake, I hope there’s a heaven.
I believe in science but the class makes me want to rip my eyes out.
Except if it’s astronomy.

My parents usually depress me.

I believe purely in art.
Give me art or give me death.

I want to be a poet.
I want a living poet society.
My name is Lex
And this is 2013.
this was my first assignment for university english
based loosely on "Ellie" poem by Lea Wait
I once sold a hair straightener to a woman going through keemo

I once sold a a weight loss supplement to a girl struggling with anoerexia.

I once sold female libido enhancers to a forty year old man.

Sold a car to a Parapalegic

Sold a telephone to a deff woman.

I once sold a child an imaginary friend.
And a Vaccuum for their sandbox.

I once sold a soul to a telemarketing company.

They paid me in biweekly installments.
And they got a hell of a deal.
Meltedplastic Aug 2012
She would always compare love
to a habit,
something one eventually gets
used to. I don’t plan on giving away
pieces of myself for the sake of
feeding my habit,
whatever that may be. But I can also see
how she could be right.

Dripping walls speak out – guarding a
possibility.
They may not be bothered until feeble
smokescreens arrive, unattended.
Skin won’t crawl and lanterns will not quake.
The stickiness of rain settles into all that has been
made at
biweekly intervals. Oh science! dearly fleeing
from my good luck, you left a compensation
for the deadbeat tattered robe. (An applied luxury.)
Backwards lashes of dancers in the sea.
Their grandparents' history to be taken with a grain of salt.
Some spinning in the misty moss growth
ignites the yellow from the evergreen’s pollen
seed.
It stops every other season when we take
and rub it on our clothes.
It’s not that sad, there’s no offense.
It’s something we've gotten used to.
Guss Dec 2013
I saw you the first time at my minimum wage  job.
Vibrant and curly.
Every moment started slowing down
and as I counted the minutes you faded away.
With a big beautiful smile of course.
But no longer there.
Then after you left my sight
another image persisted.
One of you walking back into my store.
Nothing more.
But this image was long out of reach.

The second time I saw you I forgot to get your number.
I consider myself a fool for this,
but you were still standing
and looking at me.
Absolutely straight into my eyes.
I could hardly make your sandwich.
The eyes of my throbbing soul.
Without the hustly bustle of my own mentality,
I would have taken you to Mars right then and there.
With all your curly hair.
And all your ******* smiles.
My earnings for the biweekly pay
couldnt surmount the glory
that is your absolute stunningness.
to the girl i see every day who never knew i even saw her.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2021
If there is one thing that couldn’t
Be further from the truth,
Nothing in this life is free.
To do better in chase of sanity.
One of the greatest forms of currency,
In a world of chaos everything
Has a cost.
No matter the need or want,
Yet I am ever so appreciative.
To be housed, clothed & fed with working
Lights and water.
Stability, an antidepressant in a world
You wake up & do the same thing over
& over.
If there is one thing that couldn’t
Be further from the truth.
Nothing in this life is free, & I
Ever so appreciative.
I’d gladly pay weekly, biweekly,
even monthly.
I feel that much closer to liberation
Under the roof of your smile,
A sense of privacy unlike any other.
Your lips the doorbell to inner peace.
Your hands a meal to feed thousands
At a time.
Although nothing is free,
I am ever so appreciative that a smile
Doesn’t cost a thing.
I couldn’t think of a better representation,
A better place to be
Michael Marchese Jan 2023
See you more frequently
Speaking in person
In total immersion
Within our best
Version
Is all I desire
But patiently wait
To biweekly
Engage you
And impulses sate
It’s so crazy
My lust for you
Can’t be expressed,
Or repressed,
Just addressed
Keep my hands to myself
Is impossible
Not optional
In the slightest
Unless it’s too much
Or my touch
Was of Midas
Elle Richard Apr 2020
I am 16 years old, and I don’t even know if I’m real. Even as I type this, I am wondering how these thoughts in my head are turning into words on the screen. Who came up with the concept of time? Are we even really living in the moment if a moment is gone before we even get there? Does Elle Richard question her existence on a daily basis? Am I the only one dealing with these seemingly unanswerable questions?

For about a year now, I have struggled with the concept of the human condition — why we are the way we are and what our divine purpose here on this planet is. Thus far, I’ve concluded that our existence must account for something more than creating reality television and drive-thru restaurants. I was told that having these questions about life and reality is normal in college, especially during my sophomore year, where I will hit the “sophomore slump” and start questioning what I am doing with my life. I was thrilled to know that other people would be experiencing this strange sense of disorientation as well. I wouldn’t be alone.

Sophomore year has come, and it is about to go. The number of times I have been crippled by the weight of an existential crisis outweighs the number of times I’ve been able to clean my kitchen countertops without questioning the point of it all. During my biweekly crises, my friends would reassure me, offering a helping hand and confirming that this plague of questioning everything hit them, too. The only problem was that they were pondering the purpose of being in college and what the point of school was, whereas I was trying to figure out if a heartbeat really meant someone was alive.

The discussion about human existence outside of philosophy classes is sparse and can result in feelings of isolation and anxiety. Constant questioning is stressful and panic-inducing. In some cases, it can lead to depersonalization, also known as derealization, which is a symptom of a panic attack. It is basically an out-of-body experience of sorts. You may feel detached, removed, or like you are watching the situation you’re in from an outsider’s perspective. It can cause you to question your reality and whether you will ever gain control again. While this may sound alarming and scary, according to an article on AnxietyCoach.com, this symptom is harmless.

“Depersonalization seems to occur when you have become less involved with what’s going on around you, especially the people around you, and become preoccupied with your own thoughts,” said Dr. David Carbonell in the article. “These are typically not thoughts about your immediate surroundings, but thoughts of other people, times, and places. The less energy and attention you bring to your immediate circumstances, the more your thoughts wander toward ideas that can only happen in your imagination.”

As we enter into our final week of the semester, these feelings are likely to arise due to the panic-induced environment we will be in. Know that your peers may very well be experiencing the same type of pressure and anxiety that you are – you are not alone. Resources like counseling through the CSU Health Network are made available to help you work through these thoughts.

The thing is, we will never know why we are here. Having our beliefs and faith helps some of us – many of us need something to put our hope into. But who knows, maybe we are just in a huge game of Sims.

If you have not questioned your existence at least once amid the constant state of panic that is college, you probably are not real.
Chapter XIII
Ekadashi, Nix in the Dark

From all the districts they came to witness the material effects of Gaugmela. Three days before, the Falangists under Vernarth were hit by the Ekadashi. They fasted three days before and gave themselves over to the radiations of Zeus, imposing the radiosities of the lunar movements. It is the penultimate step, there were already hours to walk through the dust that shook the heels of the Falanges. All the accoutrements and animals given over to the devotion of his soul and to his disputable faithful.

Already in the immediate circle of Gaugamela's possessions. Darius then came to cross the Tigris, organizing his troops and his harem. The Macedonians arranged the army that numbered 7,000 horsemen and 40,000 infantry. Alexander's elite heavy cavalry were the Hetairoi (Companions) and were made up of the Macedonian nobility, who accompanied Alexander in this battle and were the deciding factor in the battle. Vernarth commands the more than 40,000 infants, keeping a close relationship with the Hetairoi, with his arms twinned with divine caste. And Greek Hoplites who intervened to cover the rear of the phalanx, which Vernarth sponsored in the farthest reaches of thought of this moving stain of thousands of Macedonians singing institutional war poetry.

From the Dodecanese, Kalidona and all the central Greek archipelagoes came to pay tribute to Vernarth, accompanied by Etréstles de Kalavrita, great hero and defender along with Markos Botsaris (Chapter 6, page 36 Koumeterium Messolonghi / Palibrio USA) in this great epic. Raeder also joined his Petrobus Pelicanos, Brisehal and Strigoi from the Transylvanian transverse valleys, soon arrived from the Reign of Horcondising, after boarding his Frigate in Valparaíso. Adding the nine elements of the Megatons reviving in case they are ratified of a new Era.

They all camped five kilometers from the Rio Bumodos, on the north ***** where the moon shadows favored them of a new lunar phase, movements, ebb and flow, the influence of energy. The devotees of the clan did not attach any particular importance to it, they attach importance to these days for one reason only because these days it can enhance their devotion, so they are engaged in service. They are waiting for these days to have the opportunity to further strengthen their devotion, in order to accept the procedures at their right hand with the astrological or cosmic interpretations of the Ekadashi that can be explained by the people of the material world.

Concept infringed upon the devotees is that Ekadashi is the day when the Lord strives for greater enjoyment, to challenge incessant pain from the imbalance of the collective emotions of the attendees. And the others as an ingredient of souls that are destined for their enjoyment should try to give more energy to Vernarth and his regression parapsychological. But we must also understand that we are in the margin of life, so we should not think that Zeus extremely needs our service. He is completely self-sufficient and is in the transcendental world. But he does not leave us alone with his vague glimpses of company.

Ekadashi is a Sanskrit word that means "the eleventh first." The holiday refers to the eleventh day of the fortnight belonging to the lunar month. The moon has two fortnights in a month - The waxing phase of the moon and the waning phase of the moon, so Ekadashi falls twice a month. If we count the contest it was the first of October 1, the ekadashi is biweekly. Is worth to say; that the lunar flows would scrub their triple lunar circles from September 20 331 a. C., which is cyclically corresponding to the eleventh day of self-generation of the phenomenon. That would be crucial in the moldy veil of consecration of the Macedonian Holiness and their immortal souls.

The Falangists' minds will tend to ask millions of circular questions one after another, but it is not their great task to be busy and deal with a lot of various questions in the cold of the night. Our task is to learn to chant the Holy Name without committing ineffective offenses. And in a certain state of mind this will appear in our hearts, rather than in the concentric circle of our Hoplite shield in the defensive Hellenic rear.

An eclipse before battle
Let's go back in time momentarily to October 1, 331 B.C. That day the battle of Gaugamela took place, one of the most important in antiquity. The setting was the banks of the Bumodos River, just over twenty kilometers from Mosul (Iraq). There the Macedonian troops of Alexander the Great (356 BC-323 BC) and the Persian army of Darius III (380 BC-330 BC) faced each other. Vernarth was close to the leader, and they were playing the Dorius with the hoofs of the Steeds and they were vibrating the Sarissas spears with the dark spots falling from the top of the tinted sky, more than the foot-tapping of the sandals of their Thessalonic infants filling their glasses with greater wine Cretense not to tarnish your upstairs fears cosmological.

Eleven days before the battle, under the gaze of thousands of Mesopotamian and Macedonian soldiers, the Moon hid. Not even her benevolent lady sphinx managed to express stunned, almost disheveled before the stars that looked at her. The camp was suddenly plunged into the deepest darkness. Far from marveling and enjoying this astronomical event, the undaunted human troops of both armies interpreted it as a sign of bad omen, sensing an imminent defeat. The panic was greater among the Macedonian ranks that at that time forded the Tigris River in search of Darius III's troops. The soldiery interpreted the Dark Moon as symbolizing the advent chaos against the celestial order, so there was a marked reluctance to continue. This gesture was about to destroy the empire of Alexander the Great.

Fortunately, the Greek strategist managed to change their minds by making a very different reading of the lunar phenomenon: the divine message had to be translated as that the sun, a Macedonian symbol, was going to eclipse the moon a symbol of the Persians.

Alexander Magnus says to them:
I know that your tracks will leave visible traces of the high sky for those who do not go unnoticed. I know that your bellies will empty all your viscera to the sheer Death that is decked out by scaring its docile and nascent hair, like seeds germinated without the freshness of the unruly Sun, yet atoned for in the bowels of the prophecies of the augur.

In spite of everything, the arrogant Macedonian must not have them all with him because he summoned Aristandro, his personal necromancer, in his tent, and asked him to make a sacrifice to the god Phobo, the god of fear and horror. The augur inspected the entrails of the slaughtered animals and assured Alexander that fortune was on his side and he would achieve victory. The prophecy had to reassure the bulk of the army, since the next day they set off, moving away from the bank of the Tigris River, looking for the confrontation against the Achaemenid hosts.
In the Battle of Gaugamela the Macedonian army showed its teeth and twitched the profiles of the Persian temples and their lodge. The cavalry enveloped the Persian troops on their right, penetrating to the heart of the army creating the devastating effluvium that frozen the impression of the eternity of an empire and its empty policy. Darius III intuited that his life was at risk in the face of this contingency, and he fled a horrifying flight, which created a greater confusion among his troops, definitively unbalancing the result of the fight against Alexander the Great. Vernarth, their main commander, before Darius was filled with the worst fear, stormed his own scythe carts and shot the troops head-on, many of the scattered victims being severed. He sprinkled first-degree alcohol on their heads to leave them out in the open and posterity would come the Goddess of the night Nix, spilling sour macerated petals on all of them to bury us in the imprecations of the God Erebus in the deep light devoid of the calm margin of redeeming them of chaos.

Over the sea of crushed earth, beneath the surface of Gaugamela, their floods of elusive phlegm ran through the catacombs, the hurried insectaries of the underworld of the god Tartarus fled. Nix is usually depicted as a winged woman dressed in a black cloak covered in stars. She drives a cart drawn by two horses and normally, her twin sons Hipnos and Thanatos accompany her, here they ran everywhere, to attest the regrets of the Hoplite Phalangists, after being invaded by mythological forces of the Achaemenides. His powers were believed to be superior to those of any other god (believed to even arouse the fear of Zeus) and his worship occurred throughout Ancient Greece. Normally, consecration rituals were performed with roosters and black sheep since it was believed that their singing disturbed the stillness of the nights. Its sacred animal was the owl and its symbolic plant, the ****** poppy. Greek myths believed that when Nix emerged from Tartarus to the surface of the earth, night took place while day suffered from shyness.

Saint Corinth night
The Acrocorintus was a citadel with a triple line of walls, which according to mythology would have corresponded to the sun god Helium, in the dispute it had with Poseidon (god of the seas), who was assigned the Corinth isthmus. of the referee of the contest, Briareo, who was a Hecatónquiro (giant that had fifty heads and a hundred arms) according to the story of the Greek historian Pausanias. The Acrorintus was located on the steep mountains in the south of the city, where the temple of the goddess Aphrodite and the fountain of Pyrene were, and which was larger than Corinth itself, so it could serve as a refuge for the inhabitants if were invaded. It was also the target of the destruction of the Roman consul Mumio, and later rebuilt.

Laus Iulia Corinthiensis, colony of that time in one night under the maroon influence of the blizzard of millions of Fireflies, invaded all the fields of Macedonia. Some of these super noctulizing species migrated from the poles fainting before the Dodona oracle in the twilight that espouses the night of the day in vicious reconciliation. They entered the oracle sworn by civilizations 650 B.C.

The night of Saint Corinth is the vision that a Chrysalis had when observing a Firefly in the center of the barley fields. The oracles at Dodona were performed by interpreting the sounds of the sacred oak and the flight of pigeons. In the middle of the 4th century BC., the athenian Demón mentions another tradition on the oracle of Dodona: he related that from the ceiling of the temple of Zeus hung a series of cauldrons or tripods closely together. Since the temple lacked walls, the wind beat the cauldrons and its sound was what had to be interpreted by the priests or priestesses who appropriated their non-transferable powers, creating a cosmogony of appropriation of illegitimate powers, aggressively changing the destiny of those who came closer to the oracle. Event that was marked in the last minute of the dogma, when everything leaned towards the omen of overcoming an entire almost subdued civilization of mythology turned into an imminent reality, which vividly demonstrated an environment of tangible and prosperity in Gaugamela having made a myth reality like the Dodona and its chrysalis.

It is interpreted by the priestesses, as a harbinger of the common preservation of the Egyptian and Greek theological bastions. But above all of the Dodona, who anticipated the facts, come to reappear according to the forces of nature in Guagamela, which he would risk in 331 BC. C. In all those faithful to Vernarth, presuming to be always loyal in the first and last line, when the oracle entered them by the temples and stole their entrails with doves, later it deposited panting to all equally in the tops of the oaks getting ready to enunciate to the same oracle what was going to happen one day, that year in Gaugamela. Chrysalis hotbeds bathed in a field humor of St. Corinth were always seen fluttering when the Oracle was invoked to the one who came in the name of Vernarth coming from Sudpichi.

To be continued… / under edition.
THIS IS THE LAST SECOND CHAPTER
Morrie W S Apr 2019
i touch yer skin;
you touch my face;
we broke our hearts
in ev'ry place.

my ev'ry dream:
you felt them too.
my ev'ry bone
feels underused.

technicolour dream,
black 'n white scream.

it used to be naught
but primary.


I touch yer skin;
you touch my face.
you break my awe
in ev'ry place.

my limbo love:
i carry thee
as to Valhalla
you carry me.

i touch yer skin;
you touch my face
you tie my heart
in filigree lace.

we used them past
biweekly grace
my sleepless love
yr shattered heart
my shattered face.

round'n'round we doth embrace.

maybe this time
we keep the pace.

mybe you won't break
my filigree lace.
days become weeks become months become years
time measured by rejection
biweekly fears
face to face no compassion
pride mirrored in the eyes of a stranger
appears deflated
the reflection is harsh
your humanity barely tolerated.
Juliana Apr 2021
Freeze Yellow Iguanas
Bees Tease Warts
Ears Tarnish Antarctica
Orange Monkeys Groove
Alpacas Knit Ascots
Nannies Babysit Anteaters
Teachers Tolerate Yaks’ Lazyness
Armadillos Merge Armys
Music Includes Axolotls
Newts Free Lizards
Not All Sloths Annihilate
Insects Dance Knowingly
Dainty Arms Require Elephants
Bathe Rabbits Biweekly
Dorky Iridescent Yellowfish
Tamborine Bearing Anglerfish
Unicorns Float Occasionally
Flinching Antelope Quake
Warthogs Torture Hamsters
People love to say they ain't no slaves
But they always destined to pave
A way close to retirement day
But don't understand you show up to work every single day
Paying bills driving cars filled with gas
Weekly or biweekly you paid a little cash for a simple task
And in order to move up you gotta kiss mucho ***
**** that you make pennies on the dollar
While the government take more then fifty percent and no body hollas
At the beginning of the of year
they swear they getting all the money back from last year
You only get fifteen percent sounds a finance cirumvent
Peep the suspense ain't such thing as justice well maybe just as
Still think you free? every thing round you cost money
Can't even breath air for free well?
If you roam in the park after hours dark
You'll be charges with a city penalty
For a gated recreational area
When it's already outside I'm tellin' ya
We going to hell hand over the fire
I feel it it's the coming of the Messiah
Idiots turning their guns so asinine they ain't too wise
I just see that as an opportunity to capitalize
Keep citizens demonize so the benevolent evil entities that be can monetize
Evey human deprived can't even socialize
unless it's on a computer screen so you become galvanize
And you don't even realize your being played otherwise
Cycling through media big giants
I see their alliance
Hangs out at Wall Street where big corporate interest meet
So many millions of American walkin' around but ain't using their feet
To kick down the doors run through the Senate's corridors
And demand war until the blood pour
Collapse the system if we stop working for
One day they can't make no pay
N them ******* will be exposed so hey
Don't look as an enemy look at me as arch angel tryna angle
Your *** outta of the three sixty degrees
And turn it into  one eighty degrees
**** driving a Mercedes they apart of the three
big automobile company's
Forcing labor from paved high ways building bridges and tunnels for their business piracy
Why they get so much privacy?
but we always get break through our privacy
Takin' away the thrills of communication
Everything now is nonverbal even when you puffin herbals
All people do is stare robotized drones lookin in the air
You played not paid your mind slayed not engaged
In wisdom mother nature gives us signs everyday
No body pay attention to what the bird's say
Its God universal language but you won't understand
And they label you a crazy man if you find the waldo within'
Immaculate sins entering the heart's
Look how many dwellin'
Thinking they free as hell but your mentality locked in a cell
The best slaves are the ones that don't know they enslaved
Jefferson said a man that doesn't read the papers
Is better educated than the man that reads nothing but papers
Inhale the vapors
A masked crusaders soon revenge for my watery souls
Hurricane forming slow death destruction cuz hell ain't below
Its at our front door but you rather ignore
The inevitable signs stop chasing nickles and dimes
Your confined to time
Stop trying to pave the way cuz at the end of the day .you still a slave
sofolo Nov 2022
The stems have leaves chlorophylled to the seams. Intoxicating shades of green. Pile on more soil. Fertilizer and neem oil. Moon-dripped slumbers and every day bathed in a sun that’s grinning. Roots so healthy they should be award-winning. Biweekly happy hour of fresh as **** tepid water. Emerald leaf and dark chocolate dirt. I’m so bored. I crave deep blood red. Pops of pink and jolts of lightning yellow. Navel orange like a submarine. Or maybe even a hazy purple fever dream. Something…anything more than green. I need the magical swirl like a mother of pearl. When will the petals unfurl?
Giovanni Aug 2018
Looking back I gave you everything I had / now I'm sitting here like why even be mad / if you didn't see the value of what was us / then that leaves me with that / no need to answer any questions just ride on forward no looking back /

I wish you understood this side of me / the one that Express himself so vividly / you were the one I thought believed in me / Loved me and would always grow old and chill with me / Loving you was like a ******* cancer / but yet I always wanted us to have our tiny dancer / so she could have that sparkle from your eyes / and her big brother by her side / but that was just a dream that I woke up from and had to let go / over some **** in your life you couldn't move from / over the people that you say love you and care but I'm the ******* that was always there! Now listen / I never once told you to leave em all a lone / family is family they **** you off and you grown made a decision to stay on your own / same goes for your friends who say they want the best for you but then again a ***** whooped ***** trying to tell you that he would put you over his Baby Momma / now that's pitiful / you got mad when they only called you for favors / so you detached yourself so how the **** was that my fault when it's what you do so well / maybe they should hear this so they can hear the truth with a different flavor / instead of pointing fingers at the one who could spit real show and tell.

Looking back I gave you everything I had / now I'm sitting here like why even be mad / if you didn't see the value of what was us / then that leaves me with that / no need to answer any questions just ride on forward no looking back /

After 2 chances you just grew shady without the eminems / a call a day or 2 became none / a text from you became a biweekly thing / so how the **** do you expect for me to act than to ask what's going on and what you think? / loyal like a man I am I stood by you / and never said No / stayed true to you / but you didn't give a **** bout me / you just went and forgot bout me / 1 minute you want our family back / I wish I could hear those words again but they're indented in my brain so what's the point of that? Love I asked what you needed from me and would always wanna hold you longer cause i felt you slowly slipping from me / so every day I'm drowning waiting for you / naw you didn't tell me too / but that's what a man do / someone who gives a **** and cares bout you / someone who'd give you the last penny he had just so you'd be good / now that was all my fault / I should've known you didn't give 2 ***** bout that / cause when I asked you to decide you just let me go that fast without looking back.

Looking back I gave you everything I had / now I'm sitting here like why even be mad / if you didn't see the value of what was us / then that leaves me with that / no need to answer any questions just ride on forward no looking back /
T R Wingfield Mar 16
A joyful noise resounds in the alley behind a centenary remodeled creole cottage occupied by a pair of long friends. On an unusually pleasant late fall December eve. Between Rue Deauxfeine and Escalante Blvd, there is blaze burning in a what can only be described As four-alarm fire-hazard of a backyard the residents of this domicile called “the crack yard.” It more resembles a patch of clearing in a wooded public park you’d likely find a body in than the coifed cultured greens of old growth Azalea’s, trimmed Boxbush hedges, and biweekly mowed zoysia (if you have money), or St. Augustine (if you have class); but the body there wasn’t buried by the people who live there now.

A couple of 20s-something bartenders just off shift have made it a semblance of home, and every now and then these buddies are drinking Takka ***** or Bartons gin, and a two liter of dime store lemonade they paid a dollar and change for, on a “poorman’s patio” as they like to call it- a concrete slab poured poorly by an above-ground-pool installation company that Devin worked  for after high school, when he was nineteen and broke and drunk. Typically they sit around a bespoke fire pit made of concrete garden pavers, errant bricks older than they are, and cinder blocks they stole from a construction site not terribly far from where they are right now. The impetus to build “the *******,” as it was named, was just “somethin’ nice to do,” and with all the newly available fuel to fire it, they figured they could throw the landlord a bone and bolster the property value a little, gratis, as a “thank you” for being prone to leniency about the late fees and the due date for the back rent they still owed; because so long as the front rent was covered and they weren’t getting the cops called all the time, like they used to, Mr. Deavers really felt like being a **** about it was unnecessary, and thus nothing to do.

So they stacked the raw materials in a round a couple years back, to make a safe space to burn the unwieldy amount of timber fall they had to clean up just to go get groceries^1 after a hurricane came through town and took most of region’s tree limbs, and good many of the trunks down to the ground.

One of the largest limbs it loosed landed heavily with its ragged broken-end down, thereby impaling itself nearly upright probably four feet into the torrent softened ground, with only a brittle crack during the howling winds to indicate the new residence it took up when it fell.^2  If they were to be honest about it, The boys didn’t even notice at first, or for the rest of the year after it happened, for that matter. It wasn’t until spring that it “appeared.”

To them, it looked just like they looked to it; something that had always been there growing up and hanging around, of little consequence or focal interest and camouflaged by similarity to it’s surroundings, made doubly effective by its stillness derived from a sturdy reliable foundation which allowed it AT FIRST to go unnoticed, but there was something off about it when the cold seasons softened out: it never turned green. It just stayed dead and brown. But by then they had no idea how long it HAD been there so they just accepted the miracle appearance of a new tree, ****** on the property, as a gift from the universe for… something, and never  considered it was just a tree branch, and so they never bothered to cut it down.  


(1. If beer and Oreos can even count as groceries, even though they’re the only things regularly consumed. That one’s still up for considerable review, and the juries hung thus far, so we might not see the answer anytime soon)


(2. this sound could hardly be expected to carry through the door, much less above the deafening heavy-metal playing at a level most simplistically described as Loooud)
Another excerpt from (footnote)
Reshnia crimson May 2020
Forwards and backwards
Mirrored upsidedown
Don't look quite so close
You might see me frown

I zoom into the day
I can laugh and smile
Take a wrong step back
And regret for a while

Pull a single mask off
See another beneath
Imposter times two
With zero relief

I zoom out of the day
Can't be bothered to care
Ask the one who zoomed in
If they've some emotions to spare

Zoom in zoom out
Puffed eyes dipped in apathy
Crystal ***** rolling randomly
In biweekly duality

Pick my brain for a joke
Find chewed gum thoughts
Lost under my tounge
Next to half undone knots

— The End —