StormIt smells like rain. I hope it rains in large, fat drops, flooding the ground around me-- a Drowning Deluge of tears I cannot cry and poems I cannot write.Storm
On the RoofI hear the wind whistling through my hoody hat and the half-masted flagsOn the Roof
clinking against their poles (the sound
carries for blocks) like in that movie I once saw.
Untitled 3I’m poet(ess)—I’m done with that.Untitled 3
No longer may I sit in a slippery reverie nor in deep puddles of poetry. I must only think of property,
or equality, justice, and liberty. Well, I’d rather be stabbed in the stomach: my intestines and the unborn fetus inside of me flowing out in streaming rivers onto the carpet.
If only.
DustWords, phrases, scraps of drawings all gathering much like dust, within a journal Sometimes these are chocolate rum cherries except steeped in near tears:Dust
"Daddy do you remember us well when you leave?"
These motes are photographs, memories, thoughts of humanity of moments... Such as joyful holiday songs mixing with grief of death
At times you have to hold
peaspeas all green [looking at me with that look - I can see it] round and tumbling out of the bag [plastic with generic label - you're not special really] frosty cannonballs thumping out tiny explosions on glass [very quiet - I'm the only one to hear you] but twinkle chinked crystalline shell [I'm going to eat you up]peas
MOTIONthe elegance of common thought an exhalation glacial in its imperative whisper commanding silence breaking dawns betrayal breathes a shard glass-bright and piercingMOTION
some words relating to blood flow temperatures of caring temperant and cooling the alchemical resistance of a coded sigh
no breath to refuse the instance in a gasp suppressed your intention surpassed a dim view of receding lines collapsed outside the window some sort of pardon for a failing glance.
Writers' Block
However, currently... I'm thinking.
I'm fairly captivated, and interested to see what more will become of your pieces.
--
Neque porro quisquam est qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit...
There is no one who loves pain itself, who seeks after it and wants to have it, simply because it is pain...
~Poetic-Disturbance a little club I'm in.
--
Chornyi
~
A black winter day
No, darker than that
Gloomier than an autumn night
I'm so gothic, I'm not only dead, I'm a f&^*$%# ZOMBIE!
(
Your brain is mine.
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