"cytoplasmic" poems
I'm trying to forget you
thought by slipping thought
but my neurons keep exciting
and my gut keeps getting caught
By transmitted intervention
masquerading memory
a chemical reaction
molecular machinery
I’d blame my plasma membranes
but they're doing naturally
the things that plasma membranes do
as cytoplasmic boundaries
**** these activated receptors
and my synaptic cleft
by strengthening potentiation
without you I am bereft.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
Biologically
a composition of
cytoplasmic fragments of melanophores
self-centering
their microtubule polarity
reverses
when severed
outward
from that center
located arm central
implicating
their pigment containing
cells
red white yellow
black
are so much like us.
We are not chameleons,
though,
we need luminescent bacteria
to breed
under our skins,
then-we will all
glow together.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
You're pretty and you know it
using those glassy eyes to tame -
my heart's suckered 'n you know it,
post-sex love purely (surely?) to blame
my mind melts as I grow weak at the knees
your gaze flitting from sultry to predatory -
blood gushes, adrenalin flushes
sweat dripping upon my skin lust-crazy, expectedly
oh I'll burn these nervy butterflies
with this blistering searing fury,
argh, stop this Pretence girl
'cause it's just starting to bore me -
*Mind Control to Inner Soul;
"what's your status?"
Inner Soul to Mind Control;
"help! The guts are dead and the heart is fractured!!!"*
my body slowly dying, polluted sick
with the caustic affection you instil
*"WARNING; cytoplasmic deterioration imminent -
extreme psycho-bitch overkill!"*
for now I know I must give up the chase
the Neurones have received a final transmission (oh please no, it can't be);
*"This is .. Inner Soul to Mind Control..
we're all so tired.. so tired .. so .. sleepy - - -"*
CLICK
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
a lifetime of gestation;
of making myself,
of bringing myself
back from you,
of trying to get over someone I was
only ever under.
bend me, shape me
whichever way you’d like me
for I could be the apple of your eye if only you’d
let me;
- kiss me to
pulp
you turned me inside out,
naked,
viscerally
exposed -
heart beating tenderly not upon my sleeve but
atop my inverted chest;
I asked you to cradle it,
care
swat me like a fly;
a throwaway affair.
saying you care about ‘this’,
but not me, I think
lacklustre lover lacking the
love in the
- making
and above all, I keep thinking about how unrequited love
is the sweetest kind of self-inflicted wound.
something that never was shouldn’t be so much,
oh but it hurts just right.
I’m forever pulling cells,
bits of myself apart to
examine, deconstruct.
cytoplasmic, holding it all together,
I'm just looking at your scars, you said.
would you like to add another?
suture me then pick me apart
- I’d let you.
It's not your fault you didn't
know, don't
know how I feel, not really;
I don't want you to run
better to have a piece of you than
none.
we only do this to ourselves,
I don't blame you.
this mouth tastes like an ashtray
I'm sorry,
it’s just that a lot of sweet nothings have died and
burnt away in here before they could be said.
everything changes yet it all stays the same
we know how this story goes,
so please don't tell me I'm
beautiful from all angles
because I can’t take it. I can’t.
rising for him, a flowerbed for the spring
blush as pink, which,
bleeding into the edge of the skyline at sunset,
anamorphic, consumes.
[HE LOVES ME HE LOVES ME NOT
HE LOVES ME HE LOVES ME NOT]
my heart is so heavy
with the ways in which I love you
quickening,
the birth of something new -
or maybe I just have a penchant for self-destruction.
and on getting out alive:
we’re all here,
doctoring our hearts,
recovering from the cataclysm of it all.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
Thought catalyzed by stimulus.
A change in electrical impulses which burst and branch from outstretched, pink-tipped fingers.
Signal which travels thousands of multifaceted miles that curl and weave amongst themselves as highways of
Impulse.
Nerves act as roads that facilitate reaction.
Conception born from vibrations, undulating and deepened waves.
Concept begot from color gradients.
Cones, rods, and darkness absorb light into their small oblivion.
Each detecting.
Reflection and refraction of pure white—
Energy
Electrical signals, as firecrackers, flicker and ignite a flame within the mind,
The cytoplasmic, grey mass.
A paradoxical recognition of self.
Beings of electrical processes and mechanics.
The subconscious acts as a blueprint in its seemingly endless convoluting of chemical coding.
Consciousness spirals out to the depths within what is unknown,
A place with no agenda and no aspiration.
Until the mind recoils back to the comforting space which encompasses the forefront of one’s faintly
Surfacing thoughts.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC