"lymph" poems
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
light cursed falling in a singular block
her,rain-warm-naked
exquisitely hashed
(little careful hunks-of-lilac laughter splashed
from the world prettily upward,mock
us….)
and there was a clock. tac-tic. tac-toc.
Time and lilacs….minutes and love….do you?and
Always
(i simply understand
the gnashing petals of *** which lock
me seriously.
Dumb for a while.my
god—a patter of kisses,the chewed stump
of a mouth,huge dropping of a flesh from
hinging thighs
….merci….i want to die
nous sommes heureux
My soul a limp lump
of lymph
she kissed
and i
….chéri….nous sommes
6.3k
The patient has had no nausea,
vomiting or back pain. No chills,
fatigue, fever, decreased vision
or double vision. No ear drainage
or hearing loss, epistaxis or
runny nose. No sore throat, calf
pain, chest pain, cough or difficulty
breathing. No pedal edema,
palpitations, black stools, ******
stools or constipation. No diarrhea,
urinary frequency, laceration, skin
rash or depression. No dizziness,
headache, head injury, weakness
or enlarged lymph nodes. All
systems negative
and yet
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
It's a Black horse
You can't deny it
Pins you real good
It's so quiet
Gaining Kingdom
Prime lymph node real estate
Late night cold shakes
Tried to hide it
It's a Black horse
Novv let's ride it
Beast is tiring
As it's striding
Losing Kingdom
Bring the chemo
&& **** this black horse
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
The constant fear of stomach aches,
back pain,
sore muscles,
colds and flu,
headaches,
bad coughs,
weird sensations that you don't even understand.
The constant fear of wrongly multiplying cells,
of hair loss,
of transplant,
of cardiac arrest,
of nausea,
of ***** failure,
of words like lymph nodes,
stage three,
clogged arteries,
terminal,
irreparable damage,
cancer.
The constant deaths,
in a thousand different ways,
in a thousand different hospital beds,
that consume you every day,
make you sick in the head,
sick,
sick,
sick.
The constant Grim Reaper's hand of health anxiety,
forever on your shoulder.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
Creeping in my veins
Settled in my skull
I Hate Myself
Racing thoughts,
The dark takes a hold
I Hate Myself
Emptied out my organs of love,
An empty hull
I Hate Myself
Night swells up
The dark thoughts are culled
I Hate Myself
Pouring out my lymph nodes
Taking control, the only voices I hear
"I Hate Myself, You Have A Trigger to Pull"
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
When CNN monotony breaks my heart,
children wail for candy at cash registers,
and traffic buzz replaces birdsong,
I flee to my garden to water and ****
Sanctuary explodes in miniature chorales
soprano buds breaking through cellulose cradles
last waters from a thousand wilting blossoms
sing tenor at their organic wake above the loam
and endless pneumatic streams drip from leaf tips
as they always have and will.
A googolplex of minute carbon dramas occurs
melodious ballads echo relentlessly
like Buddha’s kalapas of soil and light
as pistil and stamen call the fat brown bees.
Equally marvelous are my hands'
deft fingers fueled by arterial rivers
lymph and blood on capillaric freeways
with off-ramps for neighborhoods of dividing cells
built into my DNA,
this machine of loving grace.
Even the leather of my gloves
once lived thick on a bull eating grass
that waved on a prairie where the soil
let the sun in
drank the rain
and that meticulous ensemble
plays still for the wolf and the eagle.
With the last seed sewn
I sit transfixed by the garden gate
knowing every blossom in every random patch
will arise and pass away like the pointless TV news
and I hear the machinery of this impermanence
crackling like spring frost
when sprouts push through
and Gaia’s eternal trumpets ring.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
bottlerocket,
ski click &
shoot.
[empress impressed.]
petrol souls drift the skin & aetherous
of our holy mother lake midday.
by alpine,
lymph node,
spine of glimmering fish;
i never truly thought that love could destroy.
[to display the paradise boon and boom salute.]
her knife atop the stump.
*
yon machines construct art-form of reservoir (yon being short for yonder),
knee-boarder-boy wake to wake, he wags his tail when he dreams.
[lakeside.]
tribal the beach: a family drunk on juiceboxes.
rolling rocks. tall boys
& boulders/ bountiful canyon kids
with their beautiful gasping dogs.
****** knee **** and gallop at the foot of a mountain/mound &
sugar ants stomped, longing to empire.
mom bunches her fists into sand
of stolen crag, listening closely for her childhood in the whistle
of a casio conch.
margaritaville will do.
[to **** or kiss beetles.]
kiss;
the bitty prince.
maintain a steady alliance with all lifeforms and flora.
life is programmed as thus;
algorithm of love.
bright honeydew soaked slabs of wood,
or plank, tabletop treatise.
wet pile of seeds.
young small birds hoard seeds for winter;
teeter into spring;
& upon summer find solace in swift slip-n-slide daylights.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
Thunder… then lightning,
feverish caress of musky notes,
****** scent of loving irony
to curiously tempt each edge
of such a fractionated cubism.
Tiny desert rose, ready
to dilate all its farthest dusty ravines
just to feel its lymph racing out of bounds.
Hot water runs down on me,
raw and bitter into my mouth,
a taunting sadism
for better wince, essentially
in a universe that is not there.
Painted glow of cynic nocturnes,
diluted to loss,
watered down to dawn.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
respond
find these bones
immerse them in saline lymph, tidal bay
grow sinew, venous pathways
overflow
hear turtle dolphin whale
entrain common pulsing
palpate boundaries
reshape
broadcast one secret vast owning smile
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Why can’t these lines liberate
or conflagrate, remonstrate
or set me straight like
like they had in the
midnight hour
That may never have happened?
I saw you in a dream,
with no torso upon your legs
and I cried myself awake
unable to remember what you said
minutes after the doctors ascertained
all those swollen lumps had spread.
Like a pen could sort the difference,
pin my quiet words, or even listen
to the high-speed pileup of a listless mind:
pull my teeth and ask me one more time
What has more power than insistence?
Because your hair had once insisted that
even a dive can hold a rhythm,
and every follicle leapt from your head, lying
“We are the makers of our decisions.”
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
It starts with a thought
My body tense familiar that
feeling of anxiety in my belly again I
Eat half a bowl of rice at 9pm my meal of the day and
You're gone again for the summer my life is starting i am ready
It starts with a thought
I clean the scissors off they are sticky i
check the mirror for evidence of fat loss i
Try to go jogging up the hill but i am too tired too starved
My faulty heart thuds and my lungs shrink i can't do it
i'm not healthy enough
It starts with a thought
I count up my days calories one coke half bowl of rice
I am disappointed with the number i
can do better i can
really starve and then i'll happy
It starts with a thought
I think of HPV hypochondria lymph nodes pregnancy I
grab the scissors tie the band around my hair
It starts with a thought
the blades close around my hair long blond natural soft shiny crowning glory
10 inches down my back I hear
one last snip and the ponytail is free
I shake my head the hair is short
so short and happiness wells up in me i
feel so light i
feel invincible
It starts with thought and
I'm not ******** you
I did it
I did it.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
I. I am the reason I never had more than a minute’s chances with anything. Sitting on steps with you became the same thing as being in love, because we were together--you, me, and cigarettes. Strange became anything, holding court in a playground planetarium and I took closer to be a state of mind.
II. Nothing ever dies, and I have beautiful sore spots that flower like fields in blood and lymph and bruises. Your fingerprints were black on my neck and it was nothing short of spectacular that heavy silence and the same song on endless repeat even failed to slow you down.
III. My greatest love is the possibility and words that mean nothing to anybody except someone I used to be. I was the stranger and I shot myself four times to spend eternity in purgatory here with you.
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 11:14 PM UTC
I release a rich, mulberry cloud of a sigh into the atmosphere of the nine-by-nine dominion I call "Home". Within it sleeps the ingenue that I long-thought was the apex of my quasi-mature, teenage heart. It and she will soon brood alone in the blackest heights of the room. I couldn't see the ceiling with the Hubble bolted to the floor.
I never knew being light felt this good. My desultory dalliance left scars on my shoulders, notches for her to hang her sloth-arms upon. I undress. I lower myself to the ground. The more my skin kisses the marble, the less woebegone my bones feel. Warmth radiates from the marrow into my lymph nodes. The heat spills out from my body and onto the ground, reaching for each corner of my icy bungalow. From below me, the marble murmurs in a hum as soothing as petrichor:
I have missed this warmth.
For too long I've been frozen,
I have missed your warmth.
Apr 10, 2011
Apr 10, 2011 at 11:06 PM UTC
Armpits hate aluminum
and vaginas loathe razors
body parts voice themselves
through physical sensations
lymph nodes form pea *****
crying to sweat
vaginas irritated screaming
ingrown hairs and sores
Why can’t we be accepted as we are?
Avoid deodorant
and guarantee that someone
will say,
YOU SMELL AWFUL
shave your ***** region
because every girl does it
without asking questions
groom for your man
do him a favor
wild and natural
under the assumption
that it must be tamed
so many women
never ******
but as long as the man
gets his fix
then the job is done
If a girl has ever stuffed her bra
with toilet paper
to make her chest fill out
some deep part of her
will understand what I’m writing about
Ladies... please as a collective,
wash your brain from brain wash
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
tickle my roots
so i giggle and
jiggle my lymph.
dandelions thrive in crust
but i'm a prairie nymph.
my feet need
fluffy stuff like peat.
my leafs need
complete fairy rings
to hum the drumbeat
as the prairie sings.
how fortunate to meet
mycelium, come eat
where i sleep:
in Creatures' compost
replete with giggling
wigglers underneath
the brown and sticky
sticks betwixt
the Sun-fed sedges
on the edges
of the Forest.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 6:51 PM UTC
Ignorance is bliss
Ignorance is (i wish i never found out about nodes i wish i didn't know what they are)
Everyone wants to happy (most people are!)
(this is not normal) Everybody has things like that.
I love you more than anything (love me)
I'm sorry (that we're so sad)
(that the calms between our storms are so reassuring)
(that my fingers are sewn to my swollen lymph nodes)
(that i'm so upset i have digestive problems)
I can't utter the words (they are *****
(they will break everything)
They will cause my death
-IamHappyIamHappyIamHappy
^not^not^not
I'm not normal
i have a serious problem (i swear)
I don't even know if the nodes aren't cancer yet
I could die
I could die
I could die
(you would have to live with it)
This is not how we fell in love. (i'm sorry i'm so caught up in death
This is the Bane of my Existance. (i'm sorry i don't appreciate our relationship
It's getting worse Please I need your help. (i'm sorry i can't be happy)
Si je vous donne un biscuit, allez-vouz dodo?
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
You can emphasize
The lies
You can hide the codes
In your lymph nodes
Yet fables are sticky as tar
You're running but you won't get far
Lungs beaten by cheating breaths
Drenched in slimy tales, never quenched
It'll only get harder as you start to stumble
And eventually, tumble
All the things said, they'll fill up your chest
Eyes will go cloudy, unable to digest,
Brought to knees, hands on the ground
They found you, lies your heart has been wound around
Chest torn open for all to see
And in the middle, I think, somewhere, there was
Me
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
I will sing of her ankles, the sun and the mighty of earth.
I saw her bareness, there in the baths, a lovely vision dancing.
Then, the dark-clouded son of crocus
startled her.
Once he used to jump over measured ponds, saw the bidding
of King Porcupine, he himself aids violently says, You will live in
lymph nodes and he croaked, my neat-ankled
bather , my dear, jumped and ran away.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 1:00 PM UTC
my grandfather was also
born in may, you know
a stubborn bull
might just be fed up.
from what i’ve seen
they have every right to be
tolerance, then suffering
his lymph nodes grew too fast
"i'll never smile again" i told my father in the car
i don’t remember saying it, only feeling
grief.
we stopped at the reliably empty house
and sat on her porch to purge it all
i was born in may
and my grandfather now resides in our garden
a ceramic bull who takes no ****
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 4:38 PM UTC
There is no quiet for me, there is no
Peace, there is no Not Anxiety-Ridden.
Sometimes I think I'm done the lymph
Node is bigger but what the
HELL, cancer or no cancer I'll be
Fine
But then I look to the ceiling
It's 10:30 and I'm already
Tired (I'm tired of this)
I realize that this is
Me
**** ******* god,
Son of a ******* **** ***** THIS IS ME.
This is me mouth-breathing snakes
In my intestines, feeling where my skin
Depresses (d) at the end of my sternum THIS IS ME.
Pressing my lips prodding my beloved skin I'm comfortable in (I EXIST IN IT IT'S MINE)
THIS IS ME my knee hurts I'm scared for school and my life and
THIS IS ME and I don't want to die.
I don't want to die before I'm physically old, old enough to be abandoned in a retirement home
I'm only seventeen, please.
I don't want to die.
Please don't let them be cancer.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
so exercise is the logical conclusion.
illogically, my matted lack-of-a-
shower and my swollen lymph
node to the point of painful
swallows speak nothing in
the way of 'yes' or 'no.'
At this point,
I'm just lonely and jealous of the worlds
'okay,' and can't be bothered with little
touchies like- oh, perhaps she meant it?
we meant it, by any measure. concussive
doubts rain on my soul like laughter,
intention; lymph node aches as I chew.
time to call a doctor. time to call a dr.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Butane lungs,
forty different faces, too many of them too numb.
Too many cups, too many cups, too many times I've called your bluff.
Stop your eyes from fallacies and incoherent lies, stop your mouth from the ******** that's falling out.
Inconceivable pacifism and flower petals made out of eyelashes and dead skin.
I don't want to go through this again.
Complicate the scales, complicate your lengthy tales, complicate the way she says your name, complicate the way I have too many finger prints on my veins.
Stop slitting wrists, go for the bruised knuckles and ****** fists.
Stop slitting wrists, go for the bruised knuckles and ****** fists.
Smile like there is no such thing as goodbye, smile while your teeth fall out, smile while you die.
Keep your eyes peeled, keep your eyes open with blood shot lies.
Covering yourself in lucid dreams, covering yourself in water it seems, covering yourself in pieces of me.
I'm too ****** up, I swear to God the Devil knows this isn't how I wanna be.
Overtime, over the night, over time, over night, under your flashlight, shadowed with with regret, I was never a satisfying bet.
There have been too many times that I've heard the phrase, "Darling, you're possibly the darkest person I've ever met."
I just talk to the ceiling and tell it about how I hope you never forget.
But I know this is it, I know I know I know, I know because you already forgot.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC