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"sutured" poems
Dear Depression, I see you. We all see you. You're not very avoidable. Those slivers of light you try to enamor us with. How death seems so delicate when we talk of flowers and restful slumber- for all eternity. What the lights do not show; a grotesque, scaled abomination with a gluttonous appetite for happiness and life. I can't let you gnaw on anymore souls to leave nothing, but sunken eyes and bones. They do not belong to you nor were they yours to take. You're not welcome in the mind's of my friend's and family. Life is welcome in their heart's where joy can still be found. Don't find yourself slithering down our throat's anymore, in the empty stomachs or scars we have. The thoughts we think when you entice us are dangerous. You stole her. You stole him. You stole me. I can't recognize the stoic, numbed faces I gaze upon. You undo any progress ever done. It's been so long since, I've heard them laugh or flashed a smile I meant. Still, your might looms over as you admire the damage you've caused. Next, feeling the audacity to sneer when we weep. Depression, you're a monster who causes nothing, but suffering. Those tears are not your's to season hopelessness with. You make the covers seem like the most comfortable coffin, you make our skin look as if we've fought thousands of wars. The sun an inconvenience with the days in reverse. We've tried to compromise, you are no friend. Just a foe. Depression, there are so many things I want to do to you. You break my heart when all your captors don't believe they are worthy of love, but they are the ones I love most. I will break you like, you've broken us. My bare hands would reach into your chest, ripping the lungs out; stomp on them to preventing future sufferers. I would crush your heart in the palms of my hand's- praying for the sickness and terror to end. These innocent people you've robbed of life, love, happiness, opportunity and a soul. Will have their revenge. Your blood covers our skin and we bathe in the warmth of redemption as our thought's belong to us once more. We let the pain held inside escape our sutured lips, begging your soul to ascend back into the abyss never to return. Your bones are mine to assemble a castle for the broken to heal. Your skull resembles a crown honoring those who had given into the temptations of surrendering. We honor them.
0
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 9:29 AM UTC
Dear Depression
Dear Depression, I see you. We all see you. You're not very avoidable. Those slivers of light you try to enamor us with. How death seems so delicate when we talk of flowers and restful slumber- for all eternity. What the lights do not show; a grotesque, scaled abomination with a gluttonous appetite for happiness and life. I can't let you gnaw on anymore souls to leave nothing, but sunken eyes and bones. They do not belong to you nor were they yours to take. You're not welcome in the mind's of my friend's and family. Life is welcome in their heart's where joy can still be found. Don't find yourself slithering down our throat's anymore, in the empty stomachs or scars we have. The thoughts we think when you entice us are dangerous. You stole her. You stole him. You stole me. I can't recognize the stoic, numbed faces I gaze upon. You undo any progress ever done. It's been so long since, I've heard them laugh or flashed a smile I meant. Still, your might looms over as you admire the damage you've caused. Next, feeling the audacity to sneer when we weep. Depression, you're a monster who causes nothing, but suffering. Those tears are not your's to season hopelessness with. You make the covers seem like the most comfortable coffin, you make our skin look as if we've fought thousands of wars. The sun an inconvenience with the days in reverse. We've tried to compromise, you are no friend. Just a foe. Depression, there are so many things I want to do to you. You break my heart when all your captors don't believe they are worthy of love, but they are the ones I love most. I will break you like, you've broken us. My bare hands would reach into your chest, ripping the lungs out; stomp on them to preventing future sufferers. I would crush your heart in the palms of my hand's- praying for the sickness and terror to end. These innocent people you've robbed of life, love, happiness, opportunity and a soul. Will have their revenge. Your blood covers our skin and we bathe in the warmth of redemption as our thought's belong to us once more. We let the pain held inside escape our sutured lips, begging your soul to ascend back into the abyss never to return. Your bones are mine to assemble a castle for the broken to heal. Your skull resembles a crown honoring those who had given into the temptations of surrendering. We honor them.
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4
How she sat there with movement in her head. A churning of learning the ways to get ****** and slaughtered by other people's sons and daughters. And how I sutured a gust of her brain exhaust into my chest, into my lungs-- I breathed her like I was ******* the end of a tailpipe. Her hands ran like busted tires as she massaged my temples, revving her voice, my ears on her suicide door lips. There is no green light in her red light country.
0
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
Skull Engine
The *** stood stars on end, so to, whispered, “play with me,” and in haste we fled. We explored, discovered, and devised something bright, half something else sinister, notarized – black roots pinned a pink-scorched Mohawk, and reciprocated, my wild “Mao-Mao,” or so she’d named the hair on my arms. The moon endured whilst we knifed each other with each and every gasp and sutured wounds left prior lovers. I’d only come across her name near the end, “Xiaolian,” though the tattoo ‘top her leg, told me, “Lola.” Come what mothers christen us innocent would be a poems in and of themselves, addendum, the delirium aged and the dance of neon atop our waterfall soaked bodies - epic.
0
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
"Xiaolian"
My words are cutting themselves again; razoring their loosely-sutured syllables, deep as white-eyed bone. The suave dipththongs butchered to the cadence of bloodletting in hemorrhagic oppositions. Stapled-closed sentences, smeared with Iodine, and subcutaneous sentence diagramming for the retractable scalpel swiveling along the edge, of the well serrated cliche. Once I pressed my wordy flesh against the wrong side of a paring knife, while paying no attention and suddenly, and without warning it gave, like an over ripe peach to the cleaver- and after that, I was hooked.
0
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 11:05 PM UTC
Co-Morbid
If 20 plus years ago I had 2020 vision Into the future would I make the same decision? I married you feeling this could not be wrong With 2020 vision would our love last long? 3 years into our life you chose another I pleaded and begged while you stayed with your mother You chose me because I fought with all my might and stayed with me again, I got to hold you at night If I had 2020 sight of what would take place Would I do it again if that couldn’t be erased? 8 years in we said hello to our baby girl It changed our hearts she is a pearl She was perfect there is no other I would pick Little did we know that our little one was so sick If I had 2020 sight of what would happen Would I change any of my actions? 11 years in we said hello to another Our hearts expanded we wanted to smother If I had 2020 sight then Would I do it again? 20 years in you were diagnosed with cancer 5 surgeries later and chemo was the answer Holding you hand while they pumped it in your veins Crying with you as your hair fell out clogging the drain 2020 sight into the future would I still do this? All the pain I could then miss. Now it is the year 2020 My pain I’m feeling plenty Knocking me to my knees Because you said you no longer love me A cut that cannot ever be sutured If I had 2020 vision into the future Would I do it again? If you knew me then you would not have to guess My answer to all of it is unequivocally yes Defective Words
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Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 12:47 AM UTC
2020
Parts of his existence: _A vessel_; is a magic that flows through its veins— the color of my cheeks and the color of his madness _A certainty_; all flesh and bone, sutured and bruised; we can be made of cracks, somehow. and my heart, he had it all as black holes grew in my chest (_as if the vacancies could be filled by his existence_) _for me, he is insatiable as I was always heartless_.
0
May 29, 2022
May 29, 2022 at 5:16 AM UTC
Parts of his existence
Twenty-three and coming from my teens I’ve developed along already categorized genes, By those who think they know me, When I’m only twenty-three with a molding mentality I was once vicariously raised through parentally guided means Socially slit by those that promised me prosperity if I was studious, Taught the importance of individuality, Yet forced to be obedient Then indoctrinated with an educator’s prescription, An addiction they picked up in a higher institution I’m finding it hard to follow your lead, when you found nourishment in my youthful innocence, Socially stitched through generationally fostered fixes Notions that you could promise me providence, I’ve been cradled in a crib riddled with termites Time shows little sympathy for those who have yet to comprehend the promise of a six foot end, Yet you trained me to believe you didn’t domesticate me Despite being conceived in a place I was not well received, You taught the importance of obedience Yet I’m finding it hard to accept your ancestral credence, When this place has been passed along bloodlines, When my generationally guided grandparents' felt the final close of their eyes, And left me a world pieced together by both atrocities and glimpses of humanity I’m finding it hard to speak in a world with such narcissistic sympathies of the traditionally raised Yet I’m socially sutured by the fact that I still breathe, While being born in a place that once found stability through a slave trade, A middle passage that led to a devious democracy I’m so grateful we can mend what barbarians once began, I’ve had time to age, enough to take the reins, Though before we build our shrines of this age, You can still pray for something beyond the grave, Yet never forget how we've been stranded, left here to continue, or to fray, To humanize a species that earth derived, Or to let the braids of life untwine and give way,   During our generations' stay.
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Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC
Domesticate Me
Twenty-three and coming from my teens I’ve developed along already categorized genes, By those who think they know me, When I’m only twenty-three with a molding mentality I was once vicariously raised through parentally guided means Socially slit by those that promised me prosperity if I was studious, Taught the importance of individuality, Yet forced to be obedient Then indoctrinated with an educator’s prescription, An addiction they picked up in a higher institution I’m finding it hard to follow your lead, when you found nourishment in my youthful innocence, Socially stitched through generationally fostered fixes Notions that you could promise me providence, I’ve been cradled in a crib riddled with termites Time shows little sympathy for those who have yet to comprehend the promise of a six foot end, Yet you trained me to believe you didn’t domesticate me Despite being conceived in a place I was not well received, You taught the importance of obedience Yet I’m finding it hard to accept your ancestral credence, When this place has been passed along bloodlines, When my generationally guided grandparents' felt the final close of their eyes, And left me a world pieced together by both atrocities and glimpses of humanity I’m finding it hard to speak in a world with such narcissistic sympathies of the traditionally raised Yet I’m socially sutured by the fact that I still breathe, While being born in a place that once found stability through a slave trade, A middle passage that led to a devious democracy I’m so grateful we can mend what barbarians once began, I’ve had time to age, enough to take the reins, Though before we build our shrines of this age, You can still pray for something beyond the grave, Yet never forget how we've been stranded, left here to continue, or to fray, To humanize a species that earth derived, Or to let the braids of life untwine and give way,   During our generations' stay.
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34
the hardest surgery is the one you perform on yourself. Steady? Ready? No anesthesia but a chuckle of nervous humor the first incision across your heart. When you finish (many months later) you put the scalpel down, wave weakly to the clapping colleagues hugging each other in disbelief from the observatory, sterile and eager you give them a wan grin and hope they've watched closely so that now they know how... how to do this. At twenty-something, I was taught by Fear who said nothing matters and then at twenty-something-else I was taught by Faith who said anything matters And she wasn't the Sunday kind of Faith that you find clasped between your palms, clasped like you're afraid that if you let go the Faith will just tumble out and break. No, she was the Faith that was bigger than God and so intimate that sometimes I was the Faith, sometimes you were the Faith, and sometimes the Faith was me. So really, Faith doesn't have a name. But Faith and Fear, they both breathe, they're each lung and when I fill one, the other billows, after all you need two to breathe. And so then I, feeling bold, learned about Bravery. I had heard about it in newspapers and history book indexes and in our local volunteer firefighters. Wondered if I could buy it. Wondered how much it goes for. But I couldn't find Brave until the moment I gave up on it and said, ***** it, I'm so scared but I don't care anymore, I'll just do it, Brave be ******   And surely enough, it was hiding beneath the tremors. So really, Brave was the Siamese twin of I'll Just Do It. which, by the way, wasn't in the glossary of this or any history book. Everything changes, you know? I'm changing, you're changing. Oh, it storms me like the sea! I secretly raise my glass to stasis, my faraway frenemy. Don't tell the other Sagittarians, they'd exile me surely. Change, letting go of my old faces feels too close to dying, feels too close to leaving you behind. And I'm not ready to leave you behind. Oh the West, keep your Mountains. If only for a little longer. I've excised my soul again and again transplanted and sutured but there's just no time. Even with these visions from under the knife- there's just no time to heal before I'm laid on the table again. *Faith hold me- Fear teach me so I can...* Steady. Please- stay with me. Ready?
0
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
Visions from under the Knife
the hardest surgery is the one you perform on yourself. Steady? Ready? No anesthesia but a chuckle of nervous humor the first incision across your heart. When you finish (many months later) you put the scalpel down, wave weakly to the clapping colleagues hugging each other in disbelief from the observatory, sterile and eager you give them a wan grin and hope they've watched closely so that now they know how... how to do this. At twenty-something, I was taught by Fear who said nothing matters and then at twenty-something-else I was taught by Faith who said anything matters And she wasn't the Sunday kind of Faith that you find clasped between your palms, clasped like you're afraid that if you let go the Faith will just tumble out and break. No, she was the Faith that was bigger than God and so intimate that sometimes I was the Faith, sometimes you were the Faith, and sometimes the Faith was me. So really, Faith doesn't have a name. But Faith and Fear, they both breathe, they're each lung and when I fill one, the other billows, after all you need two to breathe. And so then I, feeling bold, learned about Bravery. I had heard about it in newspapers and history book indexes and in our local volunteer firefighters. Wondered if I could buy it. Wondered how much it goes for. But I couldn't find Brave until the moment I gave up on it and said, ***** it, I'm so scared but I don't care anymore, I'll just do it, Brave be ******   And surely enough, it was hiding beneath the tremors. So really, Brave was the Siamese twin of I'll Just Do It. which, by the way, wasn't in the glossary of this or any history book. Everything changes, you know? I'm changing, you're changing. Oh, it storms me like the sea! I secretly raise my glass to stasis, my faraway frenemy. Don't tell the other Sagittarians, they'd exile me surely. Change, letting go of my old faces feels too close to dying, feels too close to leaving you behind. And I'm not ready to leave you behind. Oh the West, keep your Mountains. If only for a little longer. I've excised my soul again and again transplanted and sutured but there's just no time. Even with these visions from under the knife- there's just no time to heal before I'm laid on the table again. *Faith hold me- Fear teach me so I can...* Steady. Please- stay with me. Ready?
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61
rooster crow. goat horns clash. sudden sutured glow for what is left of this soul, comes forward into thought. soon i'll know what it feels like to find roots; or i won't, idk. afternoon slow blue sky flies off the tips of treetops; old-growths, ancienter than dragon bone femur, scraping aged skylines. im earthing in my mind.
0
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
living off the land
you are so ****** in the head. they say "crazy can't see crazy" but, baby, i looked you dead in the eyes, and man, someone stirred your brain with a fork. cerebellum penetrated by tines. amygdala spooned into their mouths like lukewarm soup. sliced a knife straight through your hypothalamus. left the rest to swirl around in that thick skull of yours. you're used goods, they told me. you passed your expiration date. a little too ripe around the edges. i could see that. you asked people to palpate your skin, like checking cantaloupe. you spit out your seeds in between inhaling smoke and ******* down liquor. she warned me that you were a wild one. rebellion and fierce independence. all lions and tigers and bears, sutured together with wolfish teeth and hyena laughter. forever breaking out of cages and biting the hands that fed you. now if only you could see it too. or if only i'd saw it earlier.
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Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
"people will say we're in love."
The lowly amber circles attune on the savanna grass of Serengeti as the glow penetrates our tent where the hungry hyenas nudge At the dawn of four thirty when dew recollects on the green and the lioness pawn are grounded at the lawn where we once laid You are possessive and protective rejective and a handsome danger hypnotized by spells of the acacia trees dancing under the thousand stars As I unlearn the memoirs of the past within the decorative adventures where the world was ours to hold in shades of deep blue and reds   Float baby, stow on the highways where we changed to hues of black with beautiful stacked memories in the wild chasing the leopards Flow baby, stroll on the railways where we felt a million tunes tracking hunts and ******* rants cautious of the predatory play Fight baby, sew the sutured heart where once a love was a lullaby at the drop of the Kilimanjaro unfreed from all the carry-ons
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Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 3:48 PM UTC
The Serengeti Sunset
My heart is perpetually broken And the wounds cannot he sutured The pieces are strings of gossamer, and I a flimsy sheet I smile at the world but I wonder, why this task befell unto me To write till I die I will follow, the path that was set for me
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
My Heart is Perpetually Broken
She was afraid of anyone ever seeing her naked, because then they would know; they would know all of the brokenness and all of the things that she was afraid of and every mistake she had ever made. They would be able to see the insecurities she held like glass in her crosshatched palms and the lies she lived in the sutured remnants of her torso, a thousand stitches of regret sown haphazardly along her sagittal plane. And they would know that this decimated shell housed her disfigured soul; The ultimate humiliation.
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Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
On being emotionally naked
they do not speak   mouths sutured shut   their words, thoughts, appear on their skin   like some curious cuneiform, deciphered not by those who wield the scurrilous scalpels   that maimed them   they do not speak   though their screams appear as a rapacious rash of cocky consonants, their whispers as smooth vowels on their exposed hides       they do not speak but hear the flapping of butterflies’ wings the blinking of a dead dogs’ eyes and the sound stars made upon colossal collapse they do not speak but emit eerie odors in fecund olfactory code   “lesser beasts” read with feral snouts and see on the breached breaths the silenced try to conceal     they do not speak   though they see the mocking mouths of their captors and their words that fly through the air   slicing through these mutes, as if they were never there
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Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
those without words
Cloud of smoke rising above Revelation of joyous tranquility A stir within the belly stiffening A grafitti smiled, you lived within A mouth stitched, heart un-sutured Constrained by the apathy you bear Consolidated in tethered pastures A stare of silence vigorously imbues A pleasure to meet your selfish leisures Hear the voices rattling in throned castles Run encircling the failed soul games Good luck from one, another, a mother I was bred as a hybrid alien, a predictor Take these words and run, jog on Your palms saturated with energy Leave the magic and gallop with horses
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Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
Bred as a Hybrid
The walls drip yellow. My teacup is ridden with thoughts driven from buzzing and Queens. They claim glory. A skyscraper tastier than dew from street sewer with gray, AM haze as people jut sides to climb, slip snidely atop, cut voices in lies, rushed by without flicker, a thought for ever-blackened drop of dark roasted, cig-toasted coffee drowned by a cup. So, taste it now, your lips of grounds in café chair on dirtied walk is unaware of rays in sky and earth below and earth below the pounding thump that make World go. Grabbed honey-stuck tips from a table of glass and sweet, sutured lips from ignorance.
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Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 8:14 AM UTC
Queens Claim Glory
Forth and back so on and so forth Madness masking more madness When a narcissist cries. . . Big, fat, salty Crocodile tears of self love For you to appreciate their               Sensitivity So insightful through the most insidious of manipulations Unaware, blissfully, so blissfully you stay unaware In some emotional waiting room Preparing for an appointment That was never made Not for you anyway You're just the vessel My ride to the store Paradoxically To the narcopath. . . Self love is Self loathing Self loathing's Self love Those who crave pity Must first devour all of their own Then starve at too young an age From loving themselves Much too much Behind a shattered enough stage A mess at the start Even cats need learn their own claws Professional confidence from something Re-sewn, sutured, glued, reassembled From pure disaster into smooth alabaster Sharp at the edges, dangerous This insightful love of the narcopath Fierce now unbroken Statuesque Whole and all powerful Distorted fully to experience zero reality Floating among humans In irrelevant situations A deep love shared for the glory Of one With the strength Of one thousand suns Be careful Those little emo black holes, ha, They'll swallow your *** whole
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Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
Narcopath
Aggressive stood the silhouette Distant in the night. Sutured to her shadow A dark and haunting plight. Forgotten was the hour Desolation bereaved. Consumed by her fears A beast was conceived. What's worse then battle Is one fought alone. When the lights are all on But nobody's home. When the demon that lurks Is one that's detached. Mindful yet careless Improperly miss matched. The void spreads like cancer A concrete defeat. Becoming the snake pit By tripping over her feet. Saved by good intentions But just for a moment. See, with actions and consequences You just have to own it.
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Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
Actions & Consequences
I know not what to say Or see As your tardy empathy Breathes along my sutured neck. Your lushness of waves hath borne Golden glimmers of fragrance too sweet That nerve endings fray. Smirk so softly into my soul Your pheromonal whispers So that dreams may weep syrup, So may my cheeks dew with sugar. Lusher are your fallacies Than your twirled smirks of incandescence; Lusher are your maladies Than your smoldered iridescent kisses.
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Lush
Amid wind and thunder, a coming storm, a September coat rests silently upon my shoulders. Leaves descend from the bending giants above me, and still I sit here. A flurry of passenger-filled cars sets the park spinning underneath me. These people, they'll all be arriving somewhere soon, but, for now, they flood my consciousness with homes decorated in aged photographs, and still I sit here. They're going there, those places that fill them whole, with those people that lovingly adorn their company. Though I don't accept it, I have people like that too, and still I sit here. My mind meanders the gravel path to a duck effortlessly afloat on the pond. Doesn't she have somewhere to fly to too? To South? To warmth? Maybe she enjoys the safety of my company, and so she contemplates herself, and still I sit here. Her wings involuntarily flutter from the assaulting gusts, until, finally, she gives in. Her wings spread and beat against the water below her, she's off toward clearer skies, not a thought on her mind, who could blame her, and still I sit here. As the sky opens up, drops and drenching, a chill sets inside me starting with the ears and the fingers and the toes. It creeps up my arms and legs, it violently spikes my brain and still I sit here. We all know where it finally stabs. Yes, you know it, you've experienced it before. I howl uncontrollably in chorus with the breeze. There's not a soul around, just the singing towers rooted around me, and still I sit here. At home my dinner awaits, it's steaming hot, it begs to be eaten, but all this sutured heart can do is think about is that **** bird. I should be going now, it's time to leave that soaked bench, and still I sit here.
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Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
And Still I Sit Here
Amid wind and thunder, a coming storm, a September coat rests silently upon my shoulders. Leaves descend from the bending giants above me, and still I sit here. A flurry of passenger-filled cars sets the park spinning underneath me. These people, they'll all be arriving somewhere soon, but, for now, they flood my consciousness with homes decorated in aged photographs, and still I sit here. They're going there, those places that fill them whole, with those people that lovingly adorn their company. Though I don't accept it, I have people like that too, and still I sit here. My mind meanders the gravel path to a duck effortlessly afloat on the pond. Doesn't she have somewhere to fly to too? To South? To warmth? Maybe she enjoys the safety of my company, and so she contemplates herself, and still I sit here. Her wings involuntarily flutter from the assaulting gusts, until, finally, she gives in. Her wings spread and beat against the water below her, she's off toward clearer skies, not a thought on her mind, who could blame her, and still I sit here. As the sky opens up, drops and drenching, a chill sets inside me starting with the ears and the fingers and the toes. It creeps up my arms and legs, it violently spikes my brain and still I sit here. We all know where it finally stabs. Yes, you know it, you've experienced it before. I howl uncontrollably in chorus with the breeze. There's not a soul around, just the singing towers rooted around me, and still I sit here. At home my dinner awaits, it's steaming hot, it begs to be eaten, but all this sutured heart can do is think about is that **** bird. I should be going now, it's time to leave that soaked bench, and still I sit here.
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32
I designed on a string from my ❤️ to yours the twists and loops of yesterday Celtic rings in tactile squares a monochromatic dream sequence in patchwork futures of sutured memories large squares of Bay Bridge yesterdays smaller ones on seagulls' wings I'm still working on a future every stitch in time lost and loved it smells like me... a gift to wrap the long and lonely nights in love where months of me are woven into miles that tether my ❤️ to yours I'd hoped to be done by your birthday it lies unfinished a bin of fragmented dreams... ...maybe I'll finish by Christmas just to feel close to the ghost of you
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Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 1:21 PM UTC
A Fancy Knotted Thing
Take each memory Tell one close to you, The Story The tongue will muscle the details Don't muzzle the truth, or it all fails, Travel in time isn't for the massess, The past is the past but by telling it now The Story passes the test of time, and makes it to the future wounds might not be healed, but sutured, history local or global or private were and are sustained by the verbal record, a spoken treasure, Like a DeLorean car, words tied to synaspses, flash pictures, smells and action, make movies for some, tales for others, that did not sanction, the telling of the story, minute paper pieces, microscopic chemical reactions recaptures laughs, tears of joy, many of sadness, and the events, surrounded by the madness of the days, so if this the case save Time Travel to books and fiction, or quiz history and historians, and was the truth told after all, forever after, but lean in close and whisper in my ear, I will listen through your tears, take me Travelling,... One Day.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
The Telling of Our Stories And Time Travel
There is an entire world that you do not belong in. Their dreams seem distant, their hearts of stone, their smiles withered; upon them shines a different sun. You reach out, but are unseen. Did they do so, too? Why, they did of course, with upraised words most unbefitting, they reached out as well to you. What good, however? Between us, a chasm. And those that, much to your surprise, did jump it - did not jump to treat with you, but as you, to linger. You linger still, as do your hopes. You do not in vain hope for this different world of peace and understanding of gaps sutured shut with meaningful intention. But your words are misaligned. And you are, to all, foreign, of malice, greed and hatred. You do not dream in vain, but for now, you don't belong.
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC
Linger
She was gorgeous misery framed in makeshift bandage corsets cinched with fall from grace sutured lace to save face Her battered life rife with strife covered in the mock elegance of a broken wing dress as the frenzies in her enigmatic mascara trail of tears glare soften slow burn devotions hastening their hopeless necromantic insurrection He was a fatal attractive midnight black feathered wraith Modeling trouble need scar heart genes and a bleedwork tainted warshirt earned by tethering himself to a mistake on countless battlefields his enemies' rancorous fear resonates in a crippled ripple across stillbirth waters With his outspoken outrage accented by photographic violence knowledge of immoral history charm and disguised threat lodge wisdom luring her into their surprised allegory demise In the here and now we find uncaring torture chamber musicians singing in the black ground as these two scar-crossed lovers entangle in a shotgun wedding and machine gun funeral Knowing from the start it would always be the two of them together as one against the old world
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Native American Gothic (Plague on Word)
When we find ourselves bewitched by the once-again betwixt a barest bare season (of not-there) and the rock-hard reason (for there-is), let’s Place the lemon-sour wedge, where it can be tasted with expectantly peppered peeks and the snowy soft pines for a gifted we we’ve been too white-elephant wary to unwrap. There’s a transplant future. We pretended it (to-be forever sutured to our bristly back- then), and it meets the it it was beneath a scrub-brush Christmas tree we’ve stowed Carelessly in the cramped space where our sameness lets crawl the other. Tinseled, pre-assembled, past- their-prime-time specialty brands of static clinginess have diminished, But not-enough, as the persistence of any-man attraction shows, would if it could bring Whitman’s samplers of sentimentality to cuddly bear on a leftover Choice (What’s-next, warmed over and over). We will stick to it, fuzzy ornaments on the crackly loud, paper- thin present. We didn’t give up but we did give away Boxed-up angels in exchange for one red-ribbon day, its frilly bow tying us so tightly to the pressed-down rule of our highest of highly evolved thumbs.
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Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 5:51 AM UTC
We honor the spirit of the season by misgiving