"overandover" poems
You hanged yourself from a palm
on a desert island
Starved for weeks
Catching flies in the cave
that hung open
in your mouth.
Swaying in the wind
And saw a series of the most
beautiful sunrises
which you paint in my sleep
every night when you come
to visit me.
Telling me all that you know
of the habits of flies
while the new ones,
those kids,
dance around my breathing nose
and settle in my gums.
All waiting to hatch
to get a glimpse of that sunrise
their parents dreamt of.
-overandover.
andoveragain.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC
You hanged yourself from a palm
on a desert island.
Starved for weeks.
Catching flies in the cave that hung open in your mouth.
Swaying on the wind until it was worn too thin and died.
And you see a series of the most beautiful sunrises.
Which you paint in my sleep every night after you've crept through my skull and come visit me.
Telling me all that you know of the habits of flies
While the new ones
Those kids
Dance around my breathing nose
To settle and sleep on my gums.-
All waiting to hatch to get a glimpse of that sunrise
Of which their parents dreamt.
A timeless chant
The only thing that god can be called
And the skin fell off of the shell of their light to make naked a thing that can not be named.
Cracking and peeling back their eyes to make way for the divine to come pouring out
Drowning a bloated belly thirst
Light explodes from every inch of the body-
It is the building of Ash,
The ripening of the past.
Until all that is left is he lthe two pupils falling
Like flies giving up on their lives
Into a pool of pure psychedelia
Dropping as a pearl tastes in the ignorant mouth of a thousand wanting oysters swallowing down the ****** of said god.
Who chokes on its own divine light
That it can finally die
Away from the madness of its mind
-overandover
andoveragain.
And our island
Is a venus fly trap
Devouring its neighboring flowers
Until there's no distinction between
The sweetness of rotting
And the living which is a thing we call ours.
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 2:38 AM UTC
It was not my first time drunk, not even close
but it was the first time that the floor span as a child's spinning top
and faces swam in my too-dark-too-bright-toomuch vision.
It was the first time I lost my footing and my back crashed into the wall sliding down until my knees hit my heaving chest and my palms pressed white against kitchen tile.
It was my first time crying into the shoulder of a boy I don't know, ripping my apple-bruised heart out of my retching throat and pushing it into his ***** numbed hands.
(after that my memories become manufactured by the later retellings of others)
something about the roof shingles being cold against my back but the stars being warmer than my smile ever was. Something about a phone call to a girl I once loved apologising over and overandover for falling for another. Something about a text at 1am that had my cheeks blushing and my stomach clenching convulsively around Gin and Guilt.
(something more a little something more to drink)
Later, the boy who clumsily cradled my heart and my head in his lap, will tell me that I smiled at him through tingling teeth and told him that I would rather die than wake up in the morning.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
You hanged yourself from a palm
on a desert island.
Starved for weeks.
Catching flies in the cave that hung open in your mouth.
Swaying on the wind until it was worn too thin and died.
And you see a series of the most beautiful sunrises.
Which you paint in my sleep every night after you've crept through my skull and come visit me.
Telling me all that you know of the habits of flies
While the new ones
Those kids
Dance around my breathing nose
To settle and sleep on my gums.-
All waiting to hatch to get a glimpse of that sunrise
Of which their parents dreamt.
A timeless chant
The only thing that god can be called
And the skin fell off of the shell of their light to make naked a thing that can not be named.
Cracking and peeling back their eyes to make way for the divine to come pouring out
Drowning a bloated belly thirst
Light explodes from every inch of the body-
It is the building of Ash,
The ripening of the past.
Until all that is left is he lthe two pupils falling
Like flies giving up on their lives
Into a pool of pure psychedelia
Dropping as a pearl tastes in the ignorant mouth of a thousand wanting oysters swallowing down the ****** of said god.
Who chokes on its own divine light
That it can finally die
Away from the madness of its mind
-overandover
andoveragain.
And our island
Is a venus fly trap
Devouring its neighboring flowers
Until there's no distinction between
The sweetness of rotting
And the living which is a thing we call ours.
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 2:38 AM UTC
Now That I Know what the color of your eyes are
from such a close distance our eyelashes tangle,
Now That I Know what your hair feels like,
silky so my hands slip through and I have to keep
weaving my fingers inandout, overandover, lest i forget
how rare a feeling it is,
Now That I Know that the same lyrics run laps in your head
and you see them written over the faces of everyone you see,
making them more beautiful for our own sake,
Now That I Know,
Please,
Don't Try To Make Me Forget
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC