"mutates" poems
in the year 2462 those with nails protruding from their palms
will talk in ancient tongues
& sway the tribes of men to eternal love,
& endless ammunition
of the soul.
spiritus.
kin, galactic
& the golden fire.
throb the saga of man,
into hip ****** illusions and combustive color schematas.
we bury our dead in flower clippings
or skull bits.
[skateboarding rises as the highest form of intellectual sport]
thrum and plum-bum the sewers of electric babylon.
hive city reaching past gasp and wasteland,
her lips ruinous.
cement slabs and coils of fault with
vast artistic possibilities.
these skate-lords from their heaps, their clans, augmenting
& rattling bone masks
grinding themselves into meat-bit heroics
& death.
their teeth are yellowy awoken.
this is all seen globally,
via tele-cast-com-core-mind-warp-tech.
or video.
dreams impact reality
impact dreams
in such
that the cathode cortex filter, invented circa 2222,
evolves into a demi-god, a solar charged demon of unlimited knowledge.
& it mutates the psychosphere of our mainstream public mind
with countless projected memories.
[streamed alternate realities]
fills the belly and the brain,
but all those unhooked are skating.
sweet meat market.
ghost harddrives.
poor leftovers called children of the once-was-men
& their poolside parties.
they leap the rubble of centuries old plastic icons,
their boards, their weapons, their seeds and spit.
they hang chains from their necks
& spew black flame from their sunshaded boot-click
lickings.
they drink from large bottlesof elixer distilled
on old flowers
& worship archaic cassettes.
cults of cyborg women with gem-tipped-blade-additions
carve wooden planks from
groves of great oaks.
great oaken powers.
their creators chew gummies and bend time
to uphold
a proposed history of perfection.
they master pong from their crystalline towers,
& hire mathematicians to write
conceptual skate-deck algorithms,
solely for fun.
non-profit.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
I am sitting at a desk,
back straight, head forward, eyes open. Blink.
Economics melts into white noise as
supply curves become demand curves become supply curves, elasticity.
Water weeps through the crevasses of the windows and ceiling,
mocking my ever fragile existence.
Ankle deep in yesterday's cold forgotten words unsaid,
the lesson advances.
Demand curves become supply curves become demand curves, consumer surplus.
A single drop christens my desk and terror fills my long hollow eyes
as the ceiling mutates into a congregation of puddles.
Rain that felt of hydrochloric acid
dissolved the very flesh I tried to escape.
God is not so sweet when it comes to sinners,
confining me to the barriers of an insignificant wooden desk.
The class remains like mannequins,
indifference radiating from their plastic cores.
Supply curves become demand curves become supply curves, externalities.
The only witness to this nightmare,
my last breathe finally deserts me.
I tense as the numbing waves climb up my spine,
injecting lethargy in each individual vertebra.
Malicious tentacles wrap around my throat and water floods my collapsing black lungs.
White noise consumes the entire classroom as I float in and out of paralysis,
only to open my eyes. Blink.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Of recent stories, i’m told our moon was the largest. i denied fact as truth, as is so often used. i wrote a report filled with errors only a universe could make and killed time for old time’s sake.
but the buried limousines have somehow grown into trees where crows drink wine, and talk of future times where their only worry will be which way to glide to empty their minds.
but talking to the doctor today, he was convinced of impeding biological holocaust - where bodies pile up as your vision is lost - and all along you were the fastest crook, spending money like time, and quicker than you took it.
my vagrancy knows of great discord, the kind my mind mutates into a reward but the last vision of a dead knights sword is the exterior of the universe after all our inner wars.
vapors collide in one last goodbye of both our love and time. i breathe your lips for one last eclipse and forget all the reasons why. we’ll meet again, on the run - towards the sun, but not with everyone.
my mind goes blank
with every breath of mine
that you take
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
Have you ever felt that your life is wrong?
Like you're suppose to be somewhere else?
Like while you're mopping the floor of your lowly dishwasher job your vision blurs and the world around you convulses turning the mop into a spear swirling the sea of bubbles into blood and the far off voice of your boss mutates into the sound of your fellow warrior?
Or maybe when you walk into rain and the soft sound of the droplets on your skin turn into the rhythmic music of things against armor.
And as you look to make sit you're not going crazy the roar of an engine turns into the bellowing of dragons, horses and more.
These flashbacks transport you to another time where the world is mystic,
The pavement transmutates into dirt as the air around swirls into sudden shrills of strengthening speeches spurring you soulfully into skillful battle.
And as you speed forward leading the charge
of your battalion of skilled men a thousand large,
The flashback stops and you're in your time,
No armor on you skin..
Or lives on the line..
But your heart is still racing,
And you remember their names,
Of the boys you were leading,
On to glory and fame,
So was it a dream?
Or a memory from the past?
Or maybe it was from your life last.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
as i Unshape my infinite parabola (it mutates)
into a speck of dust and oxygen
within a blinking moment
i embrace the curiosity that flows inside my soul.
into a speck of dust and oxygen
love seems to escape my heart and mind
i embrace the curiosity that flows inside my soul
and I feel better and worse at the same time
love seems to escape my heart and mind
every single time i look into your eyes (and emotion)
and i feel better and worse at the same time
i try to free myself from who i am
every single time i look into your eyes(and emotion)
i attempt to see a little bit of me inside of you
i try to free myself from who i am
so i can become more like you
i try to see a little bit of me inside of you
i’m locked inside a box and i cling on to hope
so i can become more like you
for you will free me from my world.
i’m locked inside a box and i cling on to hope
(feel that sense of affinity i embrace)
for you will free me from my world
(i’ll convince myself never to forget)
(feel that sense of affinity I embrace)
i may not be able to hold your heart
(i’ll convince myself never to forget)
nevertheless you’ll still be a Radiant angel.
i may not be able to hold your heart
i’m afraid of the outcome of disgust
nevertheless you’ll still be a Radiant angel
i’ll still be pounding on the doors of self-destruction
i’m afraid of the outcome of disgust
the Clocks will no longer tick
i’ll still be pounding on the doors of self-destruction
so i’ll lay it all down upon the cracked rocks
the Clocks will no longer tick
and for eternity the essence will be vanquished upon the land
so i’ll lay it down upon the cracked rocks
the thoughts of abandoning my trial
the thoughts of abandoning my trial
into a speck of dust and oxygen
and for eternity the essence will be vanquished upon the land
as i Unshape my infinite parabola (it mutates)
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
My shadow has departed
A dim luminescence has not the power to prevail
So casts my follower to the depths
To wallow in ineffable sorrow
Where heartache mutates to anguish, to scourge, to death
And lucidity has no foothold
And light, no admirer
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
The doorknob to the closet
full of my skeletons is made of
funny-bone
But there are days
when honesty tugs a little too roughly and
I realize this isn't all that funny now
Is it?
As a writer
You learn presentation is key
In the bend of language
I create this man
I want you to believe me to be
And so I tell you these stories
like they are jokes
Like they are no big deal
Like the first time I got drunk
was with my friend's mom
who was a known child molester
She tried to order us ****
But couldn't work the cable
Or my friends and I used to travel our city
via the water drainage system
Near the mall
We got lost once
and while standing
in ankle high water
we saw at least 20 homeless people
sleeping on pallets
We called that place *** City
We had to get directions back out
There's a possibilty I have been an accessory to ******
Around the time in my life when I learned
How not to dwell
My body was a wishbone
My father meant to break
But every beating
left me the better half
I find so much of it funny
My brother's most recent suicide attempt
My mother's
My father's Alzheimer's
He once chased after our mailman
naked
Asking him about some letter
from some woman
I have never met before
I find laughter
and beauty
in the bend of language
When this chest becomes a broken radiator
and my heart grows cold
The metaphor mutates Campfire
Come here
I am lonely
and I have a story to tell you
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 5:24 AM UTC
Are we to wither away, say goodbye to the remote possibility of everything or the acceptance of nothing, damaged as we are from life and what it has thrown at us and how we have adapted to it, where is the strength we thought nothing of when we were young – everything was possible, anything could be overcome.
Now it is harder to start from the beginning to rise from the detritus that has left its smudge on this human plane, to feel warmth from one’s own heart, passions that used to run deep are locked away lost from the moment, will they ever return or are they buried from this reality – what is this reality?
Pure and without stimulus our bodies weak from over indulgence become but empty vessels for our pain to adhere to, but yet exists this mind of memories that fail to disappear.
These very memories fight with the functionality that we accept as our living life mixed with dreams and our experiences laid bare to improve upon the quality of our anger, frustration, pleasure and happiness that engages us again, enabling us the advantage to overcome our apathy and withstand hardship and discomfort, both mentally and physically.
And once again we shout from the highest imagined ground our intentions and with our determination set to turbo drive, we move out on to the superhighway of our existence, battling our demons to achieve our presupposed goals, is this living?
Or merely homage to a bygone set of loosely interpreted doctrine absorbed from our greater consciences. Individuality what has this become? – A freedom to define ones uniqueness?
Is it truly accepted or is it frowned upon, an illusion perhaps, to be held high then massaged by ego, manipulated by the wannabees and dismissed by the pseudo intellectuals for their contrived ill-gotten gains.
Or is it puerile credo that mutates in to a complex melange of all things material, a substitute for the happiness that existed in a previous incarnation of existence, without doubt a causal effect imploding, oblivious to the damage that is caused by the ignorance of consideration and distillation of emotion from love, to the banality of acceptance.
Once again the circle is circumvented and the cycle is begun in earnest until the finality of death is welcomed unto the midst of longing from the soul, in repose before its journey to dance amongst the cosmos.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
when i sleep, i dream. when i dream i
i am lost in the woods little bird lost in the woods alone in the woods
so small so young so green
i grow
as i have grown
as i will grow
my mind melts
mutates
i am someone else
i have lost all meaning
everything has lost
all
i am grown
i have grown
i will grow
as i float i am growing
as i fight i am growing
i remember little bird
lost in the woods alone in the woods
all alone
all
who am i? who was i?
who am i becoming?
have i forgotten?
or did i ever know
and where is the future
where is my future
why so intangible
why so unmanageable
where is the knowing
where is the sense of stability
where is the meaning i was promised?
who promised
who said
who
left me alone, all alone, alone, little bird, alone in the woods,
who am i?
(then in a hundred different voices) who am i?
where am i?
why am i?
when i sleep, i dream. when i dream, i am lost. i try to stay awake
to hold my mind awake
an object in motion will stay in motion
oh let not me rest
maybe if i stay awake
if i work harder
all the time
i wont lose.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
I was proud of myself for once,
and everyone knows how rare that is,
and I hoped that you would be too
but you weren't, not that I know of.
So it's back to the bottle I go.
My emotions shuffle in one by one,
sealed with a cork.
I'll throw the bottle out at sea,
hope to god it doesn't return,
but I think the bottle acts as a boomerang,
or maybe I threw it out too soon,
because it always comes back.
It mutates when it returns,
some big monster just waiting,
waiting behind the glass
for me to mess up,
for me to fall apart,
for me to unleash him
so he can do his job.
And I'm tired of accepting defeat
because now, all I am is weak
and where will that get me?
I'll never reach my peak.
So I'll fight for the weak,
fight for the lonely,
fight for the obsolete
because no one else will,
and I'd hate to see another
fall in my path.
Maybe then you'll be proud.
You will, won't you?
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
You seem to hurt my heart,
Repetitively,
and the doctors say:
"They can’t bandage a word broken heart,"
"When the bandage won’t be able to fix me,"
This is when my body mutates,
Making it hard to breath ,
Or really do anything,
This is when,
My ribs,
wrap around my heart,
trying to protect it from you,
and while my lungs were unprotected,
and I was at a lack of breath,
you seemed to take that,
with any happiness you could find,
And I sat there,
Shaking,
Then,
Crying because it’s not even first period
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
Unforgettable bones
Have been buried
The emptiness
Mutates
Fading fingertips
Break
Expanding wounds
Ache
And Innocence
Is replaced
By a
Monster
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
*Transitory Light & Supernova Streaks,
Her ****** Hues Blooming In Rhythmic Techniques,
As Her Elemental Vanity Circles The Clones,
She ***** My Sanity With Her Illuminated Tones,
Euphoric Comprehensions Etched In Her Holographic Moans,
In Seductive Dimensions She Reveals Her Pornographic Unknowns,
Serene Luminescence Of Her Prodigal Demise,
Procreating In Her Decays of Her Astral Guise,
Psychotropic Debris Caressing Her Reprise,
Stardust Petals Confessing Her Eyes,
Sulphur Promises In Her Trapped Desire
Vicious Bouquets Of Her Nocturnal Fire,
The Carnival Flirts In Her Melodic Choir,
Futile Rage Gracing In Her Satire,
Tranquil Stitches Glimmering In Saffire,
Encrypted In Cold And Catatonic Bonfires,
Illustrious Grandeur In Her Chimerical Verse,
Rudimentary Amour of her metaphysical universe,
Blows of Blues Metamorphosing In Floral Curse,
Entropic Cassettes & Blossoms In Her Cigarettes,
As The Process Resets & She Mutates Into Velvet.
- 06:24 AM*
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 9:08 PM UTC
Petals in the water
flowing silently away
broken roses shedding skin
abandoned stains of failed decay
so numb from all the darkness
fluent once in labelled halls
nothing changes anymore
except the shadows on the walls...
No butterflies rewarded
by the rigid pupa stage
no stained glass wind-chimes left amongst
this gilded locked-up cage
no longer allowed the privilege
to get picked up when we crawl
nothing mutates here anymore
like the revenants on the walls....
Angels left in snowflakes
on the barren winter sand
breath we release with pleasure
as we touch a lover's hand
loneliness that grips you
when they forgot about the call
we're nothing but the puppets
of the shadows on the walls...
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 3:17 PM UTC
the version of night shifts as each person
unfolds within mind what they see
it mutates as time proceeds
a contagion of the eye
makes her sad face regal with its pure and true
beauty clean line and side cast gnawing fear
makes her soft skin a sandpaper of insecurity's
and her sexuality a landmine filled no mans land
she moves restlessly in her seated position
spreading and folding herself
like a spastic lotus flower
like a wasp confused by butterfly's
the version of night shifts once again
and the two of you stand in the
narrow shadows at the edge of a vast
pitted concrete slab
the air is thick and greasy with tropical heat
she is ****
you cannot help but to reach over and touch
she only watches your hand
thin smile on her thin lips
inside your your separate minds
you each hold separate conversations silently
imagine the dreamlike responses
the version of night strains as she slowly
dresses and you silently walk
side by side into the the darkness
back to the noise room
back to the chair she cried in
back to the floor you feared
the version of night is fluid
like a infected river
it flows thru her veins as she
injects another dose of crying and coughs
breathing heavy
you sit cross legged at her feet
an apostle to the teaching that
beauty is no measure of destiny its only a means
a student of the humanities isolated and afraid
by a spastic lotus flower
a wasp confused by butterfly's
she batters down the defenses
contagion of perceive then process
that becomes reality governs her motive
it mutates as time proceeds
lies repeated become fact because they were spoken
so much they defied truths razor
fact becomes fiction
as truth is distorted in the crucible of
think think think think think
as truth is hammered clean of impuritys
and worked by the hands of the mind
into a better package
a more palatable lie
help me
help her
the night is unsympathetic
as she injects
cough
touch
sweat panting for abundant air
this is a killing cycle
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
Passed, tense
Under the glass, we shone;
the windows, daring each of us to shatter, was my
feeling.
But there we idled, I sat up adjusting my lap--
unmistakably you inched back.
What air, bag, hallowed, spinning!
We give gas and speed off collectively, until the light
Source leaps into the dying sun or mutates into red.
Your mouth, inaudible above the unstifflable drone
of the exodus from the city-- the people rushing out, away
from what sustains them.
The light, falls into position, bekonning, you coward.
Passed, tense
Under the glass, we shone;
and you were the heaving globus--
nothing, but a tertiary object
clumsily laden with meaning by
the tides and orbiting bodies in
the cooling sunlight.
With your archaic gleaming
Who would have guessed
that I would follow you to
Saturnalia?
Why Cleave, me, useless, tire!
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 11:15 PM UTC
Fume of the mystic air
flows to create
an invisible lodge
a harmonic rhythm
of knowing the other.
Sanctuary of Love
shelters the Kiss.
Received touch
makes up
points of Desire
as flesh and blood
from the etheric.
She,
A fluid transparency
made of interchangeable
unique crystalline particles
of unseen color,
Reflects
an indefinable atomic structure
Draws contours of a body
that subtly shapes along the kiss.
‘Kiss me’
is a thankful whisper
‘Play me to a oneness’
gratifies the breath
along her neck,
lips, forehead
and knees
an anechoic chamber of limpid breeze
rectifying bliss
an irrefutable awareness of joy
a gifted Unity
an honored desire
She feels the
colors of zephyr and without visualizing
grows into the derived equivalence
of emerging pinks or jutting greens
she is destined to remain as invisible as
his’… not owned - not reserved
interdependency
‘nothing stays nowhere
a thing is not received if you are not there
A blessing of the moment is everywhere
you are drawn to where and what you truly were’
As the body gets formed
miracle gets real
As miracle gets real
the body gets formed
and mutates
a lucent gate
towards a universe
so The wind can pass
At the edge
she molds
to …
…. a
……….something new
The lover the love
The now at now
senses itself
in white lines
a bridal delicacy
‘A flower’
tales say
with myriad petals
living at the edge of the universe
She reads the volatile coolness
of the warm colored
differently sized light trace that
the fumes,
the kiss ,
the breath,
the blow,
the zephyr,
the lover
has become for her
she traces
his ever expanding Trace
so that perpetually he shall progress
for the universe
while she remains
and observes
as her nature requires her to be
as their dual existence is conditioned to
as is nature’s one
unconditional
or Love’s
She, the precision of joy that he creates for
the eternal witness of bliss
Colored by divine light
of rejuvenation
of freedom
of truth
breathes
at a place beyond thoughts
at the edge of a universe.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
We walk with pride, so what if, in hell, we ride.?
We live with love, intermittently fighting, we ourselves feel disgust.
We are our own demolishers and, widout oxygen mask, try to face high tide,
We build up life in here too, known as diversely robust.
Affection we all do have, but somewhere our ego ruthfully slays,
We speak always truth in here, and mostly we lie, eh.!
But still there hope for us, for the sight of unity is always shown,
So what if the dividing strength amongst us is grown.?
On one side we are creative but on the other we destroy our world,
Anger is filled like hell in us, to bring guilt with the cold.
Spiritual rivers spread peace among devil's in this beautiful creepy land,
Fire of Hunger is soothed by the waterfall of diverse recipies, bring on the pan.!
Strength of ours comes in various types and brands,
So what if our tears flow sometimes, our hearts are soft as sand.
Our own siblings are slashed and ripped, then like a drama, we inspect,
Our sisters here are lustily slayed, and guess who's the suspect,
Music explores our minds to reach its every string,
Explodes the energy out of us when dance and music ming,
It was us who concatenated words and forming a tone we sang,
What ever we have now, it all started with a big bang.
May it be Science, Religion or Creativity, Our blood contains them as heritage,
Every knowledge is adored and then here it mutates, may it be of the time of stone age.
We are selfish, greedy, sinful and want to win, images of us all in fear,
But kindness, help and purity's also there in us, loves flows in here like-oh dear..!!
Emotion we have upto brim, but dare you mess with us,
We can be on the top of everyone, except some ***** cause the trough.!
Beauty lies in us in all aspects, come and do explore,
Nothing in the world can beat the sinusoidal graph of HUMAN Lore.!
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
With a voice as liquid and soothing as zzzquil
Skin as smooth and calming as a depressant
Give me a high dosage of you, ignore the label don't consume with alcohol, and inject me with your love.
With lips as numbing and dangerous as Novocain
With a smile as tempting and breathtaking as a stimulant
But it was your hands that had me quarantined from any other woman
Because they weren't labeled contagious but they were infected with your love.
But **** I swear the only cure I need is More of you.
I don't know what category that love falls under a syndrome or illness
But it is crippling and the thought of you being with someone else is like having acid in my stomach
And this love is toxic because it mutates and its a disease that spreads and I swear its taken my brain and formed fatal thoughts
But no matter what the damage to my brain has been caused
I will always remember you
Because when love causes you hurt
The stitches may be pulled
But the scars always stay
And so will you.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
momentary feelings of contentment
appear in the solace of substance abuse
my personal pockets of happiness
presenting itself in seductive caramel pills
family tradition collapsed in my bottomless glass
thick fluid dancing amongst cubes of comfort
sacrificing sanity for seconds of clarity forgotten
four minutes of freedom from my insecure narration
i awaken to mistake stained sheets mangled violently beneath me
but this alien form I present in doesn't communicate my thoughts
for my aching fleshy cage is not made of meat nor cartilage
skin of sin engulf my devious bones pulse ticking like a time bomb
I still feel the grime stuck beneath my fingernails
I claw and scrape but the sludge takes permanent residence
the harmfully minuscule reminder of failure pushes me off the edge
falling forever but never reaching my deserved demise
stuck in limbo I'm trapped in a bleaker version of purgatory
last nights choices weigh painfully on my intestines
boulders of regret forcing my anxious form to fasten in its decent
but the comforting splat never reaches my deformed ears
it is here in the free fall I carry out my personal catastrophe
shirt ***** stained as my permanent plummet sickens me
years of sinking pass as i endure my eternal punishment
my immortal agony mutates into a sadistic contentment
a sheen of sweat sticks regularly to my aching soul
a permanent hangover and a never-ending come down
i find more than peace in this cataclysm
amidst my deserved torture pain melts into a masochistic enjoyment
Now I'm absolutely mad
flesh falling away from my body
the only tissue that remains holds my grin firmly in place
Happy as sin
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
I'm seated across from my stomachache.
The diner mutates into a morgue.
The tables are gurneys with checkerboard shrouds.
Is this conversation - or autopsy?
I explore an intriguing potential corpse
-unflinching under my lancet eyes
-numb as my curious scalpel pries
as I try to dissect what this means to me.
It might mean a great deal
(perhaps too much).
With delicate pressure cracks appear
STOP!
Questions cause fragile things to break...
Relationships all die premature deaths.
I am maladroit when I handle hearts.
Then I wait for the last breath,
"Let's keep in touch,"
and watch as my wounded friend departs,
sanguine about the mess I've made
of my latest stab at intimacy
when I dropped my guard like a flensing blade
and opened myself up as well.
Mistake!
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
life
you don't want to live
ways
you don't want to earn
friends
you would rather not make
girls
you wouldn't talk to again
this
death silence is your making
tell
me you didn't see it coming
self-destruction
mutates in myriad ways
sometimes
oh so quietly and
kaboom!
right in your suicidal-in-waiting face
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC
I can't blame you
Sometimes its the only way
Running from something
Because of the honest reality of it
I can't blame you
I've done the same
Trusting my leathered skin
The souls of my feet
To carry me past these horizons
I don't blame you
But know this
I'm still here
I'm not upset
I'm not hurting
I'm still waiting
For the beat of my heart not to call your name
For the breath in my lungs to stop sighing at the thought of you
I'm still waiting
For the skin of my hands to stop tingling from the feel of you
For the memories of us to subside
Remember I'm still her
I'm still the girl that embraced you when no one would
Still the girl that showed you things you hadn't known
The girl that broadened your horizons
I'm still she that carried your heart
When you thought it would fall from your chest
I'm still here
I'm not going anywhere
I'll stand on this hillside
Whispers of you lingering on my ears
Legs quivering at your proximity
As your eyes probed mine
And your lips uttered words
That left me standing here waiting
"I can't do this anymore"
But I can
I'll be yours until the cows come home
Until the endless machinery of humanity breaks down
Til pigs fly
I am yours
I'll be here
Where you took the ground from under me
Waiting for the day you realize
You need me
Maybe not my lips
Or my heart
But my spirit
My friendship
You can find me here
Where I lost my heart to you
Here
Until the rain that falls mutates my skin
Until wildlife roots their life with mine
Until children come and stare
Having heard the whispers as I became this urban legend
I'll be here
Waiting for you
Here
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
Angry screams bounce effortlessly
around my head;
they're too loud to dismiss.
shoving me forward
attempting to push me
off.
I attempt to hold my ground,
but the yelling mutates into wails
shrieks
in distress
pain
anger
suffering
guiding me backward
towards the edge.
Did I really cause this much
pain?
It would be so easy to jump
accidentally 'slip'
give up
let go
fall
and never look back.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC
Revere him
as you would a new grave
lest you furrow his brow.
And invoke the dark things.
Respect his steady thought
exploring.
blossoming.
gentle b l i s s
be warned if he mutates:
grumbling upon
grudges upon.
he seethes.
And.
Regurgitates to
grumble upon
grudges upon...
Prowess expanding!
Cackling!
teeth gnashing, **********
Growling!
run.
dare his malice lock on
and course through
in bright flash !
and cover yourself.
for he pours out his grief in heavy sheets
waiting for her to dry them.
her.
whom he so often covers and covets
her shine, her warmth, her confidence.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC