PhilosophyWe were lying on the ground staring at the stars, and the stars were winking like fairy lights, or like the taunting eyes of great vicious beasts ready to devour us. My heart was beating fast among the rungs of bones strung around it, playing upon each rib as though it were the key of a xylophone. "Nothing goes on forever," I whispered, my hand stretched out to stroke the cheek of that monster before it stole my soul. But you shook your head. "Everything goes on forever. There is no end, only beginning." It was then I heard the roaring of the beast as it came down to swallow us, tPhilosophy
ConstellationsI love the freckles on your back and the constellations they make; it makes it even more clear to me that you are full of something powerful and foreign. And when I trail my fingers across your spine, when I trace your constellations, I can feel the world inside of you moving; I can control the frivolities of your universe, I stir the galaxy each way I want it to move, and your skin quivers, and I feel your skin make mountains.Constellations
RealityI've had this fucking taste in my mouth too long, And I can't remember Where exactly my perception is I put it somewhere far beyond the realm of Reality, of the places your kind goesReality
AngelaAngela is made of cardboard. Her joints move slowly and strangely, her body sighing heavily as it goes. Her heart is a crumpled piece of paper, the edges torn and frayed, with pieces missing here and there. When she tries to walk, her legs buckle beneath her, and for a while she lays on the kitchen floor, immobile and astounded by the spiders making their webs on the ceiling. Sometimes they come down to greet her, and they scuttle across her face. When she sleeps, Angela dreams of the way the stars argue with each other, and how sometimes the flowers stretch too high, and then sheAngela
maybe i'm always wrong.try.maybe i'm always wrong.
try to believe that our skin will touch and that our words will retreat into our mouths simply since there will be nothing left to say because maybe we'll just know what the other is thinking. and i'll try to pretend that i'm not sleeping with what-if's and what-the-hell-am-i-doing's tucked under my pillow and stained on my tongue. i'll let go of my every other second doubts if you could let your fingers find mine. you could make the nights a little warmer if the distance between our heartbeats was a lot closer.
try. try to believe that our veins will intertwine and i will attempt to inhale all your exhales so i
interstate 81.there's a metal star that is wasting away on a hill overlooking interstate 81. it blends in with the surrounding area; you can't really even see it unless you know it's there. and no one does. i like to think that it is a signboard from god, and i make tiny little prayers on it. my religion is in curling wires and burned out light bulbs, and my lord is the same colour as the sky and the treetops. honestly, i believe that rusting metal has as much a chance as anything for inspiring faith.interstate 81.
there's a deer lying broken on the side of the road. it's sprawled in a shallow ditch with its four legs splayed awkwardly, h
| I'm small, awkward, and somewhat annoying. |
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Wonderful poetry!
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Insignificance, something I'm not afraid to feel.
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"Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior."
- Catullus
thank you for the watch!
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you chased me down and broke in just when i was
done believing; spun me around so close now, i can
feel you breathing. sunlight burns inside and i feel so alive
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you chased me down and broke in just when i was
done believing; spun me around so close now, i can
feel you breathing. sunlight burns inside and i feel so alive
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