"lye" poems
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I feel the scratch
of the itchy cotton gown
on the narrows of my back
as it climbs up and down
Displayed I lye on the medical tables hard cold steel
It seers into the crevices of my bones
I ponder the lone window and wonder if it's real
I listen for the bleep and bloop of medical tones
Nurses walk by in a mechanical grace
poke and **** & tap and touch my face
and then proceed to leave without a trace
with no hint of knowledge of my medical case
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
I'm a big girl, I'm a big girl
I begin to chant in a simple rhythm
as small as a ball I begin to curl
I'm abandoned inside this glassy prism
The dead silence creeps inside my brain
I want to scream to fill the deadly gap
but the cold thick air of silence brings pain
I comfort myself and say it will be ok
My breathing begins to quicken
my eyes dart around the room
only comfort is the fear which I am stricken
my sight goes bleary as darkness looms
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Tears sting the corner of my eyes
I want someone to hold my hand
Oh God how I want to cry
but the only thing there is the bleeding arm band
The test begins with the thickness of barium
It slides down my throat and clings to my esophagus
It tastes like chalk and pandemonium
they want me to suffocate I guess
I chug and chug as the pictures are snapped
x-ray upon x-ray of my stomach and my back
Drink more Drink more They tell me to do
Nervously I shake and say, anymore and I will puke on you
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Even more poking and prodding ensues
but of my stomach, ribs and *******
I lay rigid as a board from the pain of each touch
I grow weary of this tiresome rues
The tests are done
and the coast is clear
I am left alone
to dress myself in fear
Dismissed and discharged to walk away
they file my chart with a robotic smile
now for the wait of endless days
I'm lost in my mind's land of emotional exile
Waiting all alone
waiting on this cold table
waiting for the doctors and the drones
Pins & Needles Pins & Needles
I wait for the results
Is it stomach cancer, an ulcer or both??
In the dark I am kept like followers in cults.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 2:34 PM UTC
Kissing his lips
I feel my body tingle
Ripping off clothes
Breathing hard in anticipation
He gives one last kiss.
"Are you ready baby?!"
No answer is needed
My eyes say it all
Tight as usual
He goes slow
Eyes connect wild with passion
His lips cover mine
He thrusts hard
Harder and harder
Every position
Making my heart beat faster
When he finishes
Oh how his face sends chills
He kisses me up and down
"I love you" exchange lips
I could lye with you forever
How much power you have over me
So much love.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
The baby goat's mother was shot.
And I was forced to listen to it cry.
Forever forlorn and distraught
And i stood there- hands covering ears
Traveling back in time
----------------------------------------------------
Your mothers heart stopped
And I was forced to listen to you cry.
Lost in a huge world, more alone
And i stood there- hands covering ears
I heard you through the vents
"My mom is dead! My mom is dead"
Falling to the floor I wished I still dreamt
But she had called me before her bed
I heard her voice message months later
You still cried yourself to sleep at night
Sleeping with earplugs....I wish I didn't bake
Because I thought I killed her that night
Peanut butter cookies:
She taught me the recipe.
And two days before she vanished,
I brought her a dozen.
Autopsy reports showed an hour before death;
She took two bites of my cookies-
Went upstairs and her heart stopped.
Coincidentally exactly four years later,
I finally made peanut butter cookies again
And the smell of sweet peanut butter roasting
Stopped my heart
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
**Exquisitely flawed in all the right places
Like the keys on the piano that sits abandoned
Your ebony keys complement my ivory so well
But dust collects and you never notice
So I fall away quietly
Retreating like a soldier
Who knows he will not win the inner battle before him**
*Quietly quietly
Silently go
Where no one sees you
Nobody knows
I built up my fortress
A place full of pride
Full of hatred
Your pent up lies
A promise broken
A heart is torn
I'll stay in my castle
Where my poetess is reborn*
***Quietly quietly
Silently go
Where all the others fear to tread
I will lye down this weary head
Exquisitely flawed in all the right places
You are the man with many faces***
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC
I have been told that a love left untouched will never disappear; that because the corrosive oils from our fingertips have not dissolved its coloring, it will, theoretically, endure perpetually. This love, left in its shrink-wrap casing, looming over the heads of the meek and the caustic feels like a scarlet letter hidden behind the robe, a feeling so foul none are to know but, Oh, what if it begins to fester, there in the moist dark?
This worry had been sitting in my stomach, churning with the bile and swallowed blood, coming up acid in my throat; I could feel it radiating out. Thought: it must be nuclear, must be radioactive and glowing, eating through me one layer at a time, but love –this uranium longing– has a half-life.
When first the reaction began it boiled and popped like lye on skin, singed off my eyelids so I could not help but see it there. I found myself woozy from the fumes, a high I had never experienced before so I inhaled, let it torch my lungs and leave me gagging. My hair began to fall out. I was soggy from the chemotherapy, tried pumping this bitterness into my bloodstream to remove the evil that already existed there, unaware that they were the same entity. It could not survive on a diet of itself and obsession, and so it began waning.
An exponential decay, the intensity of this passion varying directly with the frequency of contact and inversely with time, yet it will never be gone, entirely. It will decrease incrementally every time I say good bye, every time I see scarred knuckles, every time I want and he does not. I have counted the days since the day I counted on him and he was accountable and the number is growing larger and getting more difficult to remember. I have scribbled it onto scraps of paper and it has only browned the edges, no longer burns all the way through, and this love –this radium affair– has been losing its toxicity.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
No Lover saith, I love, nor any other
Can judge a perfect Lover;
Hee thinkes that else none can, nor will agree
That any loves but hee;
I cannot say I'lov'd. for who can say
Hee was kill'd yesterday?
Lover withh excesse of heat, more yong than old,
Death kills with too much cold;
Wee dye but once, and who lov'd last did die,
Hee that saith twice, doth lye:
For though hee seeme to move, and stirre a while,
It doth the sense beguile.
Such life is like the light which bideth yet
When the lights life is set,
Or like the heat, which fire in solid matter
Leave behinde, two houres after.
Once I lov's and dy'd; and am now become
Mine Epitaph and Tombe.
Here dead men speake their last, and so do I;
Love-slaine, loe, here I lye.
4.3k
Easily Tux
Laxity Use
Laxity Sue
Taxis Yule
Taxi Yules
Tau Sexily
Axe I *****
Yea Xi ****
Yea Xi Lust
Aye Xi ****
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Ail Yes Tux
Sail Ye Tux
Ails Ye Tux
Italy Ex Us
Laity Ex Us
Taxi Lye Us
La Suety Xi
Talus Ye Xi
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Lax Suety I
Lax Ye Suit
Lay Exit Us
Lay Suet Xi
Lay Tuxes I
Lay Ex Suit
Sat Yule Xi
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At Yules Xi
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At Yule Six
Tau Lyes Xi
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Tax Yules I
Tax Yule Is
Ax Lieu Sty
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Ya Lute Six
Ya Exult Is
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Ay Lutes Xi
Ay Exults I
Ay Lute Xis
Ay Lute Six
Ay Exult Is
A Lyes I Tux
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A Ex I *****
A Ye Xi ****
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La Yes I Tux
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La Ye Is Tux
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As Lye I Tux
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Tax Lye I Us
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Ax Ye I ****
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Ya El Is Tux
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Ya Ex I ****
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Ya Ex Lit Us
Ay El Is Tux
Ay Let Xi Us
Ay Ex I ****
Ay Ex I Lust
Ay Ex Lit Us
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Your skin glows
Like peach blossoms
As lovely as daffodils
In the purest hope of spring
My heart strings follow each strum of a harp
Your voice a hypnotic melody
I leap like a cricket
at the whisper of your name
The evening floats
On a great parrot wing
I am comforted
With you by my side
I hold you tight
Like two twilight beams across the sky
In the listless evening
I listen for the last chime of the day
I lye with you
In lavender moonlight
Hand-in-hand we reach our destiny
For a mystical shower of love
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
I will not die for you
Woman fey of flesh and home,
I linger but to see you unfrock
The holy, set rogues to roam.
Why should I thus be consumed
In breath like coldest fire?
Shape of rising waterfalls
That state, I surely do not desire
The downy ******* the runny skin,
Spark of cheek, notes of hair in shower,
The gliding step, the gusty tone,
Fools have died for much less a dower.
The lancing pools, the hemlock mien,
The highland sheen, the dawn-bird voice,
The Safire eye, over step of pyramid
Merlin gave Arthur a safer choice.
I will not drown for you,
Flood of hair, red as the lye
In parted Jordan, that sea, not me,
Shall pine as ever, slowly dying.
Your healing humors, your subtle sovereignty,
Your blood, noble as seven-seas are blue,
Little mirror who paints the sky,
Though nearly, I will not die for you.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
White wash walls
White starch coats
Translucent skin/veins
Vision blinded by numbers
Personality sequence
My numbers
The label stapled across my eyelids
Like a chip for feeble shoulders to bear
A dash of this
A dab of that
Normalfunctionalproductive
Happy member of society
Girls stuffed with modelling clay
Feed me lye and cigarette ash
Replace my brain with silicone
Paint cherry red lips
And tell me to be unique.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
Once the earth kissed the sky, then separated day from night. Only to then cause a rain storm from our heavens eyes. The warm tears fell, landing on nature's ground. We're the starving rose lye, dying. Tears once rejected, now found there place, re-hydration to the rose giving life to his face. Rejoice from sadness, build our strength. To accomplish all, and give back what we can't take.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
Here I lye with you-
you don't listen, so my words
write reversed haikus
I don’t need your drugs,
but I do need you to know
no one deserves this.
I choose to let you
treat me like I’m blindfolded;
Still, I gift to you-
Graphite and color
a blank sketchbook (with this piece)
Inscribed in the front.
Art is all I know
so this opportunity.
to express it all-
Has such strong power,
you might never truly know…
Still- I hope you do.
Oct 24, 2022
Oct 24, 2022 at 11:39 PM UTC
Black eyes, bruised wrists, mangled genitals.
Ribcage extruding; calling for love, lust, and cigarettes
Faces offensive; unmet eyes, and searing expressions.
Scars on arms; speaking louder than quiet voices
Staring blank; at bills yet paid
Thinking there is no way
Imaging the fall from your 3rd floor
Apartment
Weighing funeral costs over living expenses
Death would put you deeper in a hole
Not able to get out, saying how
Did I get here.
Looking up seeing the opening nearly
Closed; finger lye at the only opening left.
Hope.
Being crushed brutally, whilst you see it all
happen.
Blood rains on your pale face, craving
Sunlight.
Dismemberment of fingers, brings you into total darkness.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Lately my mind has been in one place beyond the stars,
I try to connect the dots but they just leave trails of false happiness tainted in scars.
I’ve been lost and consumed with unimaginable distraught built up in me
Went from writing poetry on a daily to not at all due to the animosity I blinded myself to see.
I look in the mirror and see someone I don’t recognize,
From all the lessons learnt I still fantasize how life would be without uncomforting cries.
I believe that life without the setbacks prevents you from appreciating the triumphs,
But what happens to the pieces of you that stayed shattered while life was your worst enemy?
To battle with life is to drag yourself across the finish line after every milestone
Bruises, blood, sweat, tears become a cushion to your self-destruction and you lost your way from home.
They name hurricanes after people because we are a cluster of emotions burning inside, we set fire to our own rain,
We add fuel to our own fire because we rather suffer than to gain,
We become our own enemy and barricade ourselves from outside pain but lock ourselves in and become insane.
Insanity becomes our best friend. We persuade ourselves to get better but rather give another person a helping hand,
We give advice because genuinely that’s what we want to hear but we run into loops and bury our security in the sand.
Looking beyond the stars trying to connect the dots of the chaos but the galaxy lye in me, the fire lye in me, the hurricane lye in me the mediocrity lye in me,
Blatantly to say,
The only person that can save me, is… me.
-dpk
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC
The movement of speech,
speaking swiftly with eloquence
alliterative, quixic, elloqution,
enunciation, pitch, tone, intensity,
sensivity, proper, and evident,
prosody, and brilliant speaker,
followed by a brilliant speech,
we all would love to listen to
a great idea. Or write down
the secrets to success, to pay
bills and not get hit on by voodoo.
I heard them lye, lie, and then lie.
Lye like ***** hands needing soap.
Lie like there are no stars ever in the sky.
Lie like in bed with a ghost,
and then a ******* mindful of racists
with a passing grade for the bar exam
treated the 3 above outstanding resources
to the trinity to tell us to work with an Oath.
The availability to be independant is a solvency
to a cross examination, and the property of freedom
is a handsome reward if you can pry open the
jar of Trinity. We wanted a badass to be the President
and I know, that we just might get what we ask for.
Remember to study your own favorite poets
a dedication to a life in the fast lane of the
most Amazing manner of all time.
We may just be the newest monastery in the world.
So when we all say something, like all 7 billion of us.
We GET it.
DO NOT F&%^$^$ TOUCH ME, EVER! Lol.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
Like lions licking lacerations
Limp-lipped, lucid lamentation
Loyalties lax, love's liquidation
Lapping lust's lye lemonade
Like lemmings, leaping liberation
Loose-limbed, lurid lachrymation
Learning love's lone limitation
Life: liars lie, lovers lay
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
Come to see him
when you have no right to
Come play daddy for a day
does that make you feel good?
Run and tell your friends
that you're a father
because you like the title
Put on a happy face and smile from ear to ear
Talk like you know him
for everyone to hear
Talk like you have always been there for him
Hold him as if he would recognize your touch
Watch him through your lieing glazed eyes
and hug him way too much
Kiss him and tell him how much you care
Tell him you love him before you disappear
Turn your back and walk away like he never meant a thing
Tell him your his daddy
when he don't even know your name
I see you swell with pride when you call him your's
when you play with him like you're the one he adores
You're the definition of fake
You're a lie and nothing more
and your son knows not who you are
So tell him that you miss him
And that you'll see him soon
Lie to him again and again
Make empty promises
that will never come true
Laugh at all the silly things you watch him do
Act like your something big
Like your doing something good
Does it make you feel like more of a man?
Does this feel good to you?
Hug me before you leave and tell me that you're sorry
Hold me like you really care and
Tell me you still love me
but don't dare look me in the eye
Because you know I'll be able to see nothing but true lies
You're a drug addict
A lowlife in it's truest form
So go back to your shameful life with your *****
light it up and take another hit
Let it burn and try to let yourself forget
Wallow in your self pity
and hang your head real low
Cry until you drown yourself because
You won't see us anymore
The damage you have done can never be erased
So live with the few memories you have of him
that are burnt inside your head
then close your eyes and sleep with your pride and regret
You have made this bed and in it you will have to lye
Waste yourself away to nothing
as you slowly dissipate
You are nothing to him
and you're nothing to me
so overdose on us as you take your final hit!
Copyright © 2013 by Ashley Rodden
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
It is to that place
In song
That I retreat
To wait for you.
My idle life
Is halfway spent
in the Apple Orchard;
Its in that place,
That I lye alone.
And
Its in that place
I hide from love.
Its in that place
That I'll awaken from,
And never-
I'll never
never;
truly
leave.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
Tears ran down my eyes for those i love
Even the one's i despise but they don't know
Yesterday i cried for my mother;
S he did me wrong but i still love her
Yesterday i cried for my dad;
I think the day his brother died is when he went mad
Yesterday i cried for my little sister;
She is lost in the world and there is no one to fix it
Yesterday i cried for my oldest sister Nichole;
It's a shame she might raise her sons on her own
Yesterday i even cried for you;
The things you go through people have no clue
Yesterday i cried, Yes i cried for me;
For what i deserved and those i really did need
Yesterday i cried, But i live for today;
So my tears for yesterday are my old way
I might think about it but i will not cry
See I'm one out of so many that have survived
A affect on me my past did have
But today I'm learning how to deal with that
Today, I will sleep better tonight when i lye
And that is because Yesterday I Cried
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 9:05 PM UTC
From my new book, Poems of Ancient Rome and Greece, available in paperback on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, as well as eBook on Kindle, Nook, and Apple Books: https://www.amazon.com/Poems-Ancient-Greece-Christopher-Saitta/dp/B0DS6933HB?ref_=ast_author_dp
My mother the sea,
She woke my sandy eyes,
Just to tell me she had to leave,
Draw past the markets where the fish are sun-dried,
Snarled by the coral-rough hands of divers deep.
My mother the sea,
She left her running tab
Of the grocer’s choicest greens,
Thumbed the velamentous rinds and spiny scarola,
Her xylem and phloem are the slow moving cruciferousness of a breeze.
My mother the sea,
Charwoman of tides,
Who dips and delves upon her knees,
Who scrubs her brothel-coves with chamber lye,
Cyprian mistress of the salt-stained sheets.
I have looked for you, mother,
A scugnizzo amid the striped awnings of the marketplace
~ like sails to the sky ~
Where the fishmongers hawk their pride
Of conch, cavallo, and black sea bream.
I have looked for you, mother,
Walked sun-forged along the boardwalk,
Amid the neon-mascara of signs,
Hand-in-hand with only the ladyfingers of salt and vinegar fries,
Toward the crisp syllabub of pebbles and sand.
A beach is window-warmth spread free, cosmopolitan,
The longeur of eyes crushed in the glass-dust of cities.
And in the sputtering of the frosted spume of tides,
Held broken seashells in my hands like broken needles,
Heard the pump-click of the ventilator through your mask of sand.
My mother the sea,
A naked convalescent,
Whose ever-turnings have taken
A turn for the worse.
Who will know her by her death, who but me?
Jan 21, 2025
Jan 21, 2025 at 8:29 AM UTC
Some micro poems about antiheroes.
I give my best friends black eyes,
I wont lye,
Some of it's their blood,
Some of it's mine,
But I cant talk about the first rule.
Tick tok,
Whirring cogs and grinding gears,
Going after low hanging fruit,
While we're,
Singing in the rain.
Returning video tapes,
Often leads to Huey Lewis and the news,
Raincoat, reservation, rat, rage,
I escape through blood lust and *******
But this is not an exit.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
One morning, Howard was deciding what he was going to cook for today's lunch. Howard was not the worlds best cook, he mainly enjoyed buying ready meals to eat, Fishermans Pie was his dearest. But today was to be different; a change; he would make something from scratch. He decided that Carbonara met his fancy, so he got up from his wearing sofa, and made his way to the half filled book cabinet. 'How to make Pasta', the book read. It was a result for Howard. He clinched his hands on the closed book, and bought it into the front room.Howard opened the book to the contents and turned to page 21, 'Carbonara Chicken Special'. Howard firstly read the ingrediants needed, then popped to the local convinience store to fetch the things he needed. When he eventually started the meal, he was on task and ready to go. So he prepared the sauce, and the pasta, and the chicken. Then put it in the oven, a fourty-five minute wait.Howard was knackered by this time and thought he'd have a quick lye down..."BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP"!!!!!!!!!!!!! This incredibly loud noise was coming from the smoke alarm, startaling Howard! He rushed to the kitchen to discover masses of smoke dominating the room. Howard glanced up at the the clock to discover that he had been sleeping for over an hour. The pasta was ruined and had to be thrown away.Howard was starving though. So he went over to the freezer, grabbed a microwave fishermans pie, and heated it up. As he sat down to eat the meal, he thought to himself; ' Well I gave it a go, one step closer eh'. Then digged into his seafood.
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 4:37 AM UTC
Race relations is bad all over the world worse if you live in the GD U.S of A. People here don't give a ****** about other races unless you say something bad about they own race.
1. Blacks got kidnapped by whites from Africa in chains and worked at picking cotton and crops, tending for masters babies while master made more babies ****** black pretty slave women who did not want to have *** with them.
2. Master beat black slaves until they were bleeding or dead until black slaves learned to speak broken english like white southerners.
3. What southerners laugh at how blacks speak but they are the ones who beat black slaves ***** until they learned to mimic how white master spoke broken english.
4. White master tip toed down to slave shacks and ***** and ***** getting black slave women pregnant making bi racial slaves. Light slave pretty ones got to live in the house and let master **** them any time he wanted. Dark slaves babies of master worked with the slaves in the field.
5. Black people can't find their roots thanks to being kidnapped from africa.
6. Some blacks hate darker skin and bleach it like Michael Jackson and Latoya Jackson. Some use lye on hair to make it straight and color it blonde like Boyonce to make herself look more white.
7. Blacks were promised 40 acres and a mule for being stolen from africa but government lied to them and they keep lying to them we have a black president but people still call him a ****** and show him no respect he the president.
Repeating this here part.
Race relations is bad all over the world worse if you live in the GD U.S of A. People here don't give a ****** about other races unless you say something bad about they own race.
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
I'm not happy.
Though warm like the pavement
Of a highway
On a freezing, summer night.
You can't tell because the blotter runs on strong.
I would die by your hands
Day by day.
Like a modern-day Prometheus
Sequence, substance, ether eager eyeballs
Stalling, stalling, stalling.
Call me forward.
Come hither, darling. You are so magic
Your face makes me break
Your eyes fill my heart with lye
It burns so much to see you
my chest and eyes and mind
My skull is an inferno uncontrollable
Inconsolable.
Darling, you will know
The meaning of undertow
And you have had me know
The true meaning of being low
Dead dreams, dead memories
Your eyes inside me
You haunting my dreams
Every night, another reason
To wake up to burning, red eye-sockets
Red rockets
Sky high
Firework death
Beautifully turning away from me.
I wish you cared and missed the fair because I didn't want to see you there.
I twist and turn and lose my hair all because you can not care.
Stare, stare, stare, stare. Haunting, haunting, taunting, haunting
Please leave me alone.
Please be there for me every day.
As a best friend.
But quit appearing in my dreams.
Witch.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 8:35 AM UTC