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"exoskeletons" poems
this night was different; there were more moments spent looking back then forward, panic always pulsating in the crook of our throat like some giant, out of breath beast waiting in the hollow sweat, and gnarled tree branches reflecting black against the slightly purple sky. it was too quiet to mask our echoing footsteps; boot on pavement no rain to soften the blow. we made it in thirty minutes to the gas station, where we unzipped our jackets and let the lace show out of our drooping shirts blinking like a warning sign to the drugged up cashier, words mumbling over his body, strings mixed up. men entered and i saw that look that i always see in men who look at me; its hungry, a type of lusting mouth with no feeling, **** trusted more than his heart. the kind of look that says, “i want you feeling my biceps in the back of my truck, and i want to feel your tightness all over me,” the only problem is i play along, pretending to be seductive and then leaving with an agonizingly frozen stare, and a quickened pace just to show them who's actually in control. a pack of Newports exchanged over the counter, another lighter; this time with a green and red flower on it; dahlias of the night. exoskeletons of black jackets and tights like some shadow riding vagabonds, inside guts made out of swallowed cigarette smoke and bravery. we smoked and walked, watching as headlights flickered toward our slim frames, and men leaned out from trucks with salivating mouths like dogs, inviting us to their burning desire in the cold, shrinking night. under the layer of skin that tells the girl beside me that it would be stupid to heed to their invitations, i admit to myself that all i want is for a stranger to wrap around me and kiss my smoke stained lips with a different fury, so i can whisper a fake name in the depths of their ears, and show them that i will kiss better than all the women that have wrapped themselves in their limp bedsheets, and leave them wanting more as i disappear into the night, leaving nothing but a longing burn on the tips of their tongues. but i don't give into my fierce desires, and we simply turn around, smoke five more cigarettes, and climb up the fence to **** her hand, and run across the raging freeway like the Klamath itself.
0
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
dahlias of the night
this night was different; there were more moments spent looking back then forward, panic always pulsating in the crook of our throat like some giant, out of breath beast waiting in the hollow sweat, and gnarled tree branches reflecting black against the slightly purple sky. it was too quiet to mask our echoing footsteps; boot on pavement no rain to soften the blow. we made it in thirty minutes to the gas station, where we unzipped our jackets and let the lace show out of our drooping shirts blinking like a warning sign to the drugged up cashier, words mumbling over his body, strings mixed up. men entered and i saw that look that i always see in men who look at me; its hungry, a type of lusting mouth with no feeling, **** trusted more than his heart. the kind of look that says, “i want you feeling my biceps in the back of my truck, and i want to feel your tightness all over me,” the only problem is i play along, pretending to be seductive and then leaving with an agonizingly frozen stare, and a quickened pace just to show them who's actually in control. a pack of Newports exchanged over the counter, another lighter; this time with a green and red flower on it; dahlias of the night. exoskeletons of black jackets and tights like some shadow riding vagabonds, inside guts made out of swallowed cigarette smoke and bravery. we smoked and walked, watching as headlights flickered toward our slim frames, and men leaned out from trucks with salivating mouths like dogs, inviting us to their burning desire in the cold, shrinking night. under the layer of skin that tells the girl beside me that it would be stupid to heed to their invitations, i admit to myself that all i want is for a stranger to wrap around me and kiss my smoke stained lips with a different fury, so i can whisper a fake name in the depths of their ears, and show them that i will kiss better than all the women that have wrapped themselves in their limp bedsheets, and leave them wanting more as i disappear into the night, leaving nothing but a longing burn on the tips of their tongues. but i don't give into my fierce desires, and we simply turn around, smoke five more cigarettes, and climb up the fence to **** her hand, and run across the raging freeway like the Klamath itself.
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69
driftwood skin sea glass eyes ****** guile raw and toothless husks of promises trawling for exoskeletons you were mine i was yours but i am not one to let wounds fester even first cuts are licked clean with time
0
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
salt
Today I witnessed a ****** in the cobwebs The swift and crafty arachnid ensnared suspended cicada The cicada several times his size spun into his spindles Soon a drained addition to the cemetery of exoskeletons It twitched but with an air of hope long gone He embraced his fate long before forced by spider fang The stalker surveyed him, perched like vicious acrobat About to perform his grand finale among the dust and decayed wood The drawn out death captivated me, stole my attention Like the gallows in the streets of times past I watched and felt the transmission of energy and life The power to spare a creature, but I let the world turn freely This one lived and died similar to you and I The universal experience of limited time Bacteria to insect to man to deity Some day we are mummified and disintegrate in the attic
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Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 8:19 PM UTC
49. Cobwebs 11/28/10
it is dark with you I squint to see supernovas on yellow stumps the wispy silver ripples fall the wrong way nothing is left but tobacco exoskeletons you brood against velvet arms sinking into the chair the stone in your chest is heavy; immune to April plumage spilled nectar and the smells before rain
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Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
ash grave
i don't know                                                       glea­ming like an apology what i want                                                       ­your scraped pomegranate summerteeth these winter days, i used to                                                       a pointillist sunset, wish i could inhale                                                                           d­on't tell me that muscle the wide wide world                                                       is made whole by breaking, just to breath it out                                                       back bent toward abstention into your mouth, once,                                                       none so present as yours i never really knew                                                       (­and cracked holy monuments, strength                                                        vines their unlaced exoskeletons) just that i wanted to be strong                                                      ­ atlas was no gardener for a nebulous reason i cannot                                                       to hold up is not to tend. remember                                             ­          wher­e could it be written i'm leaving for                                                      why would anyone say, why would a very long time,                                                      a poet teach the heart survives by breaking? but you have to go                                                     that in black ink my love may still shine bright away    to come back                                                      ­
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Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
Caretakers
i don't know                                                       glea­ming like an apology what i want                                                       ­your scraped pomegranate summerteeth these winter days, i used to                                                       a pointillist sunset, wish i could inhale                                                                           d­on't tell me that muscle the wide wide world                                                       is made whole by breaking, just to breath it out                                                       back bent toward abstention into your mouth, once,                                                       none so present as yours i never really knew                                                       (­and cracked holy monuments, strength                                                        vines their unlaced exoskeletons) just that i wanted to be strong                                                      ­ atlas was no gardener for a nebulous reason i cannot                                                       to hold up is not to tend. remember                                             ­          wher­e could it be written i'm leaving for                                                      why would anyone say, why would a very long time,                                                      a poet teach the heart survives by breaking? but you have to go                                                     that in black ink my love may still shine bright away    to come back                                                      ­
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33
The cranes cling along the sea cliff yellow spiders perhaps made skittish by the rolling morning mist. they swing and strain with (do I detect?) a nervous urgency until noon when the sun half shines through to draw the fog and warm fragile yellow exoskeletons. There are plastic bags now in the dog parks, cameras grow on top of poles. Exercise equipment planted in the gardens, at the edge of the sea (certain I would have noticed them before). These towers must be taller, then. I've seen them at work for a year and a half, they must be– with all that nervous energy. Tire tracks from heavy trucks. A bent rail, discarded candy bar. Morning sand on the sidewalk where secret midnight bricks were laid. And here, maybe, a new banner flies: "Se vende." To sell oneself. To give oneself away.
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Fertile crescent
the trees whisper rustling, gilded intonations- spilling secrets like honey into the productive blue sky. sunlight lurches through the trees and cracks my foolish skull, sending all of the thoughts I had left alone in there spilling over the golden dappled forest floor. you seep into my periphery, delicate and half formed amongst the moss and the earthworms. I smile at the exoskeletons of decaying memories; crawl, crustacean-like, sifting for something more tender- dredging up phantom images that flutter lazily across my eyelashes and come to rest in greedy palms. breathless mirth and incorrigible melancholy commingle in your shadow and hold me fast. you and I live and breathe in the same stratosphere and I don't quite know how to let it go. I miss you, and the words twist around my fingers like a rosary, pausing at the accidental stutter of my naked heart.
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Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 10:18 PM UTC
awakening
last night I was reminded of the warmth beneath your skin reminded of the way we match up together reminded of your frantic kisses down my neck and over the ripples of my collarbone. I am reminded of your naked body pressed against mine our skin hugging our curves, making our exoskeletons melt into one lastly I am reminded that a part of me missed this a very small part of me I only want to show you and no one else.
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
Urs
Isn't it coarse how those with brains like paintings or poetry, stay the most silent? Their pen strokes and key strokes and voices evoke images that put reality to shame and yet they express just less than is required to distinguish body from cold stone; being from statue. They only have themselves to blame; Perhaps the world too as unforgiving as it is. Though it remains that they are silent: Their being may be boisterous yet they themselves remain quiet. Their soul and their bones who creak with the very moans and beauty of this world are muted and it... It makes me terrified And sad I want to call out: "We cannot hear your soul when you try so hard to repress it! We cannot become close if we have nothing to connect with, except this hollow, melancholic shell" Where have you left your magic? If you have left it, let us retrieve it. If you have forgotten, let us remember together. If it has been stolen, I will quest with you to find it. No one should be left silent.
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Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
Walking as Exoskeletons
Ant people is what they are teeth clattering together out-coming syllables of insensitive, insufferable nonsense Pinchers cleaning after a feed Some revolting alien dialect Smash them, then into the gravel back to the maze-caves of the Underworld the holes from which they jitter and twitch but then pause to stretch cold joints long, black armor-limbs blink blank eyes upon the new sun's light They too bask in its rays, like I awakening the mind for another grind warming sleepy muscles to pursue crumbs of bread Like I So smash, no let them crunch and spit out uselessness Just play instead an in-head voice-over a compilation of wonderer's revelations Let them crawl, let them be slowly exoskeletons shed to flesh antenna's recede to shags of brown framing lively eyes pupils recognized as Human Humane Words are intent should be meant as the sun beams to progress the colony as one We are the same
0
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
Untitled
Out in a cabin in the back     woods once again                             what speaks louder that words                are my words and the masses just whisper.                                              Rabbits **** bears, timber exoskeletons crack,                                         porcelain                                                     underbrush                                                     surrenders,                          those red strings                                                                                                  nudge me                                                                                                  to acknowledge it, the Shakespeareans are creeping in on purpose,       i've tried too hard to please this hardwood floor.                            Excuses:  I am--                                                      --walking on the body of a                                                                       violin                                                      --measuring the plucked                                                        requirements of the craft,                                                                               a melodic one.                                                      --forgetting my voice. I met your envelope                     of panic switch--vapor lights staring down on my skin.                             Pink elephants                      bound on crosses strung up in red                                                   --you stitched their brick hearts.                                I was welded                                         to the screen door by the touch                                                           of a                 one-way street, epidemic voices are farming the cure for salvation before our cauterizing                                                                                                       muzzle flashes                                                                                    --the outline of your fleeing justice. I smell rain and why I fell in love with you,                                                                                    --you never write when you're angry
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Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 7:20 AM UTC
Refusing to be an angry soul (Untitled)
Out in a cabin in the back     woods once again                             what speaks louder that words                are my words and the masses just whisper.                                              Rabbits **** bears, timber exoskeletons crack,                                         porcelain                                                     underbrush                                                     surrenders,                          those red strings                                                                                                  nudge me                                                                                                  to acknowledge it, the Shakespeareans are creeping in on purpose,       i've tried too hard to please this hardwood floor.                            Excuses:  I am--                                                      --walking on the body of a                                                                       violin                                                      --measuring the plucked                                                        requirements of the craft,                                                                               a melodic one.                                                      --forgetting my voice. I met your envelope                     of panic switch--vapor lights staring down on my skin.                             Pink elephants                      bound on crosses strung up in red                                                   --you stitched their brick hearts.                                I was welded                                         to the screen door by the touch                                                           of a                 one-way street, epidemic voices are farming the cure for salvation before our cauterizing                                                                                                       muzzle flashes                                                                                    --the outline of your fleeing justice. I smell rain and why I fell in love with you,                                                                                    --you never write when you're angry
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36
If I could save even one person, maybe I would speak. 、、、、 Her flesh wrapped around her like kudzu on a tree, parasitically engaged in what others yearned for. If you can't rely on blood, who do you have left? So I stayed. Because no one would come near. How kind she was. How gracious and loving and loved. 、、、、 Her skin became cold. The very ***** dedicated to masking her advanced structure became like a marble slab left in the snow. That flesh that cradled her meaningless meanings hardened like the exoskeletons she imitated. She was an insect through and through. 、、、、 And even if cold was the absence of heat, the left-behind contraband someone else came to cherish, she emanated the very invasion that enveloped her. She radiated her icy salvation. 、、、、 And so when the time came that I was able to touch her... When it was upon my own flesh I would feel what she refused to feel, she grasped onto me. As if she longed to drag me into her abyss with one last throe, one last labor of love for her blood. 、、、、 My fingers never fell off, but I was frost bitten. My organs never failed, but I was shredded apart by the sting of the sobbing wind. 、、、、 I didn't become her marble carcass like I should have. 、、、、 She didn't take me with her. I couldn't save her anymore. Not even if I had devoted my life to doing so. Never again. She left me behind, and I was cold too. 、、、、 My skin is not chilled to the touch. My muscles are not the remnants of a frozen cicada shell. My skeleton is not made of the icicles left to melt in the sun's triumph. My tendons ache in the wake of an ancient breeze that blew by far too late. 、、、、 I am not a slab of cold marble. 、、、、 I am a starkly darkened visage to behold and not be held, forever turning over and over, never ceasing and always yearning for that which never was, and that which will never be. I was only for their sake. Never mine, even if I pretended. 、、、、 This endless daydream that expands before and behind me, that twists in tendrils that are deplorably mine and soak in the oily water that inisists on being my keeper... I will not let go of the ribcage it offers to my grasping hands. I will bear who I am. I am my sickness. 、、、、 I will plunge into the needy and engorged expanse of shifting flowers and lodged viscera. I will continue to encase and cease. 、、、、 Forever in my head. Forever in my skull. Forever tapping in my cage. Forever clipping my scrawny wings. Forever sincere. 、、、、 I loved her, and I couldn't save her. She was dead, and I couldn't save her. She was alive, and I couldn't save her. 、、、、 What remains? Irreparable me.
0
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 9:35 PM UTC
The marbled Carcass.
If I could save even one person, maybe I would speak. 、、、、 Her flesh wrapped around her like kudzu on a tree, parasitically engaged in what others yearned for. If you can't rely on blood, who do you have left? So I stayed. Because no one would come near. How kind she was. How gracious and loving and loved. 、、、、 Her skin became cold. The very ***** dedicated to masking her advanced structure became like a marble slab left in the snow. That flesh that cradled her meaningless meanings hardened like the exoskeletons she imitated. She was an insect through and through. 、、、、 And even if cold was the absence of heat, the left-behind contraband someone else came to cherish, she emanated the very invasion that enveloped her. She radiated her icy salvation. 、、、、 And so when the time came that I was able to touch her... When it was upon my own flesh I would feel what she refused to feel, she grasped onto me. As if she longed to drag me into her abyss with one last throe, one last labor of love for her blood. 、、、、 My fingers never fell off, but I was frost bitten. My organs never failed, but I was shredded apart by the sting of the sobbing wind. 、、、、 I didn't become her marble carcass like I should have. 、、、、 She didn't take me with her. I couldn't save her anymore. Not even if I had devoted my life to doing so. Never again. She left me behind, and I was cold too. 、、、、 My skin is not chilled to the touch. My muscles are not the remnants of a frozen cicada shell. My skeleton is not made of the icicles left to melt in the sun's triumph. My tendons ache in the wake of an ancient breeze that blew by far too late. 、、、、 I am not a slab of cold marble. 、、、、 I am a starkly darkened visage to behold and not be held, forever turning over and over, never ceasing and always yearning for that which never was, and that which will never be. I was only for their sake. Never mine, even if I pretended. 、、、、 This endless daydream that expands before and behind me, that twists in tendrils that are deplorably mine and soak in the oily water that inisists on being my keeper... I will not let go of the ribcage it offers to my grasping hands. I will bear who I am. I am my sickness. 、、、、 I will plunge into the needy and engorged expanse of shifting flowers and lodged viscera. I will continue to encase and cease. 、、、、 Forever in my head. Forever in my skull. Forever tapping in my cage. Forever clipping my scrawny wings. Forever sincere. 、、、、 I loved her, and I couldn't save her. She was dead, and I couldn't save her. She was alive, and I couldn't save her. 、、、、 What remains? Irreparable me.
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50
Mamacita Coke-bottle figures are motivation to get close to you. I arrive to Spain clinging Molotov Cocktails (it’s not Spanish but least it’ll do) to see blossoming tulip dresses I bend kneecaps to Barcelona, Medellin, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Puerto Rico Mexico City, Madrid to get a sense of your flower-nightlife Swallow Iquitos, hills of white rice fields. Conquistador I bachata-bachata love you gyrating exoskeletons to Reggeton
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Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
Mamacita
My stomach is a graveyard Of exoskeletons Bubbling, inside the acid of your hatred Killing all the moths that dip and dive Guised as butterflies. Chaotically crawling, I squirm and I writhe; Like a parasite trying to root myself deep inside your mind. Let me hide in the wrinkles where your secrets lie, And I'll lay my own for you to pry, So you can see and feel the way You exorcise the demons I try to **** everyday. In this dank, ***** cage that tastes like asbestos And weighs like mold; where rodents have made a home You've scraped each layer of filth and carved a throne, for you to sit. You make me feel less cold, A little less sordid; Like I'm useful and important As if I have some kind of worth. Please erase from me your damning antipathy. I just want to hear your heart sing, To feel my pulse when you're happy; Even if I end up left alone In insect wings and rat droppings. -SLuR
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Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
Insect wings and rat droppings.
this city is scattered with the exoskeletons of skins i've outgrown. it's strange to grow out of someone else, the skin we shared for years, months, no longer holding me captive. i don't remember how or when or why our souls split. all i know now is that my heart no longer misses it. the hopeless mortality gets to me, because i don't want to let go of you but the utopia is out of reach. i'll forever be shedding my skin and leaving it behind and watching you get smaller over my shoulder as you barely mourn the loss of a friend.
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May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 3:39 PM UTC
the hopeless mortality of skins
Lawrence Hall, HSG [email protected] Even the Oak Trees are Dying “Wildfire…evacuation of nearby residences under way” -news bulletin Poor drought-dead leaves in mockery of autumn Wind-rustle across the lawn as the dried husks they are Rattling like withered exoskeletons along the dust Or The Ancient Mariner’s dead sailors upon the deck The exhausted earth is hot from a summer of drought Cicadas have no hope in their poor songs A drifting dragonfly wobbles in its flight And the weather reports are but cruel teasings The sour smoke of a month of forest fires Chokes even the stars, who in despair do not appear
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Sep 3, 2023
Sep 3, 2023 at 11:38 PM UTC
Even the Oak Trees are Dying
It’s nighttime, the crickets are chirping. The faucet is dripping. There’s light coming in from the street through the cheap vertical blinds that came with my apartment. My bed is uncomfortable, my back is itchy, my neck is stiff. My bones hurt and my mind is running through everything I did wrong today. I forgot to eat breakfast, I stepped on a beetle and I sweated through my shirt during my walk to work, I forgot to print out the form I was supposed to, I made a joke and my co-worker didn’t laugh, I came home and I ate a dinner with too many calories and picked a movie that my roommate didn’t like, then I went to bed without doing the dishes or washing my face. I shift my body under the covers, but it doesn’t make me more comfortable. I’m still itchy. I see bugs on the ceiling but I know they aren’t really there so I just watch them crawl over each other, squirming and clicking as their exoskeletons brush against each other. They writhe, defying gravity. They drip like water down the wall and puddle on the floor, and the fear I experience isn’t real but it feels real because my body doesn’t know the difference.
0
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
Anxiety
#cocoons as windows disguised as tea, disguised as silk that protective solid, a one-way order no outside touch outside, morning organs ***** larval, the sticky crevice recalled from leafy fluids making sin from sin corroded sins untouched, unwatched, remain concealed remain in another forgotten cocoon yet they still yield silk another silk of morning sweaters, coarctate, twig solid offering cocoons of another casing another skin, another order resisting order, reminiscent hard, evolving, exarate, growing teeth to touch and tear at exoskeletons another fluid appetite cocoons and fluids the remains of caterpillars and wings every secret allowed, accumulating effort and one-way mourning morning as a window mesh-like, yet opaque, and exquisitely final morning: everything to the cocoon! I facilitate my order#
0
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 11:22 AM UTC
imago
Each day, the horrid insects return. They pull me downwards, away from all I know. Ten thousand tiny wings, thirty thousand minuscule legs. They drag me, body buzzing with the life they give into the twilight of dysfunction. The slow, bulbous doubts, the ghastly creeping terrors, the venomous dreads and spindly, chitinous uncertainties. They eat me Gnawing away at everything I am, Until I look in the mirror and do not see A familiar face staring back. So I **** them all, without mercy, Until not a membranous wing still beats. I flood their wretched exoskeletons With the cleansing, toxic mists of Insecticide. I drown myself in the poison, pushing away the deep dark and swimming upwards towards the gentle, comforting light of day. My head breaks the surface, gasping. But as I breathe deep, I do not turn back To see the trail of butterflies Floating dead among the carnage.
0
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 10:13 AM UTC
Insecticide