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helium balloon lungsi. You write me notes scribbled on sandpaper
and I run them across my face,
scraping away layers of saccharine skin,
ii. Your eyes, made of cookie crumbs,
I'd like to dip them in milk
and watch them melt,
smoking like dry ice,
iii. You churn my childish heart
in circles and in circles
till I slip into cardiac arrest,
iv. I just remembered that time you
wrapped your arms around me like vines
and held me until you couldn't,
v. Oh what I'd give for a pair of
fortune cookie lungs,
exhaling self-fulfilling prophecy,
vi. I've been fishing for horoscopes,
pasting them onto my bedroom walls
and on the backside of my skin,
hoping that they tell me that
today is the day you will be mine,
vii. But your soul is made up of sins
and I do believe in forgiveness,
but forgive me, for I cannot forget.
there are monsters in that world of yoursYou are a sun dried pelvis and a seedy scalp,
You are a shark bite in my neck and the stitches to sew it up,
You are the sand dollars in my pockets and the rip tides that tug at my feet,
You are the sweet sting of a jellyfish and the skeleton of the sea,
If the ocean was your body I would hold on to your surf,
I'd let your current crush my skull,
I'd sink into your salty skin and be consumed by the rush of your waves,
I'd drown in your inky reflections of the darkness and the moon,
I'd sit underneath your surface and stare at your stained glass ceilings,
I'd rot between your clay hands deep within your subconscious,
I'd think and hope you could sense that my cerulean soul was yours,
For I am pale bones seeking bleak waters,
I am the taste of mussels and the texture of coral reef,
I am Poseidon's soul mate and Neptune's lover,
I am an unanswered siren's call fated to starry nights,
I am a swim in the undertow while bleeding stingrays out your feet.
I Need a Love that Frees MeChurning, burning, yearning,
you twist me till I bleed,
why does my heart hurt so bad whenever I think of you,
you've got me if you want me
and I can't even fight it.
can't breathe, at least not steadily,
paint me turquoise
or be the forest to my fire,
actually I'd rather you were nothing, at least nothing to me,
now I can feel nightfall coming upon the manifestation of a July moon,
so let's let those clouds burst and rip wide open
just as though the clouds were my organs and
the rain were my blood.
I'm Not Ready to Let GoYour fingertips carve melodies into my songbird skin,
carbonizing my charcoal bones
so I can write sonnets on the sidewalk
with the ends of my chalky joints.
Oh how your grazing hands
Your propane eyes
burn me up,
your toothy smile
ties me down.
I hold my breath
because these moments are fragile
as they are finite,
and I close my eyes
because love shouldn't be this ugly
or this hard to find.
blue born licorice whips,
weaving webs for blood spiders on my thighs,
thin cerulean shoelaces tying knots around my wrists,
hold fast, heartbeats pumping like gasoline,
I am living, but I am not alive.
What Turns Me Oni. bright cotton candy colors,
so lush and vivid,
I want those pastel pigments
dissolving my taste buds and
brushing over my tongue
like they were made of velvet.
ii. reptilian skin,
those scales so rough
and those alligator teeth
I want those teeth
to take me by the neck,
leaving me with scaling wounds.
iii. blood draws,
being drained of liquid emotion
to come out feeling light headed,
then fucking euphoric
like you're made of stained glass
and the sun is lighting you up
phantom breath igniting your spine,
being cradled in the arms of a shadow,
being grasped by the hands of the wind.
the clavicle indentations
that make me want to scream
because they are so lovely,
unfolding themselves like paper cranes,
angular yet angelic.
vi. a button up shirt being unbuttoned,
the thought of you sliding it off my shoulders
as though it were made up of sins.
ripe for the plucking red,
no artificial sweeteners,
only the blood of an organic berr
I hope you're not anemiclove me, love me, as if we're underwater,
breathe deep, inhale laps of turquoise heat,
exhale the hexes that arrest your lungs from
arrest your lungs like
handcuff bound wrists,
sleek and cool metal causing
your skin to retract and sing
quips of fucked up love
oh, but I'm no one really,
you could bite off my lips or
peel back my spotted angled
flesh to reveal I'm oh, but nothing
more than a
satisfaction has never come easy for
you because you have always wanted
aging, rotten berries that stain
white t-shirts as if
a scalpel was taken to the scapula,
carving seedless entities onto bony barriers
while removing the
it has always been easier for you
to throw me
away in a replaceable fashion,
singeing the wrists with octopus ink,
then burying deeper the zebra striped syringes
that have injected you with a truth serum to reveal
you're just another cracked out
if I were to pull down the zipper tha
The Confectioner's DaughterHer tongue tastes of eucalyptus
and it hides behind gingerbread lips,
she's sure a sugary one
with a golden honey heart
and raspberry bones,
she's even got lollipops and gumdrops tattooed upon her low hanging hips,
sometimes though being too sweet has it's downside,
there are certain people who will take advantage of her
by sinking their teeth into her granulated skin;
bleeding her dry of her nectar
and leaving puncture wounds in her tender, transparent neck,
truly no one should ever get too close
because the more she loves, the faster she dies,
then the faster her sweetness collapses inward and
crushes her red licorice whip lungs,
which only ever ache to please,
because while she inhales empathy, she exhales forgiveness,
and so one must now forgive her for bathing in blood like maraschino cherries,
for she cannot help the way she is;
only too lovely yet not meant to last;
constantly filling with cavities beneath her empty, empty chest.
The Harvest MoonThe lunar eclipse, the harvest moon
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off and sinks upward
To lie in the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon
The Harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon
And earth replies all night, like a deep drum.
So people can't sleep,
so they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush
The harvest moon has come!
And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world
till the gold fields of stiff heat
Cry and the rivers
Sweat from the melting hills.
Atoning with BloodI look down
At my horrid skin
And close my eyes
As the past sets in
The scars once cuts
To take the pain away
Now the cause
That's there to stay
I remember the blood
How bright it shone
And for all the deeds
I had to atone
The marks still burn
So again I look at my leg
And for scars to disappear
I silently beg
July 27, 2012
Summer Breezethe sun arises too initial,
throbbing like a sore headache
with heat to laud summer official
leaving us beneath its wake
thus, like water we are flowing
in and out of midnight hours
with only slivers o'er us, glowing,
vivifying like rain showers
you are the movement, I the air
upon which our comfort rides
in cycle - which is only fair -
growing, falling, like the the tides
old flames will have due chance to burn
until the winter gets its turn.
from your lips
like a muted song -
one lone melody
and trill along
your cheekbones -
an inhale of
(my weary fossil love, my sin)
an exhale of thin-fingered
but no note
to carry on
SmallSometimes, embarrassing things happen to you. Things that people laugh at. They brush it off carelessly, not even checking to see if you're okay.
You're so small, no one would even know you were serious if you said you weren't okay.
Remember when we went to the movie theater to see the Avengers?
"One ticket for the Avengers," you said, handing the man with glasses and a greasy ponytail your money.
He said, "You need an adult with you if you're under eleven."
It was quick, but I think I saw your mood falter. You frowned, our friends laughed, and then you got over it.
"Yeah, I'm nine," you joked.
If there's one thing in particular I admire about you, it's this: you don't want to ruin anyone's time. You just want happiness for everyone.
It didn't take me long after that to realize that all I wanted was your happiness.
Replies of wide eyes
And finger to lips
Hands beckoning me to follow.
Silence is golden,
But the rays of the full moon
Creeping forward with stealth,
And pulling the blanket of leaves back
Reveals what made my heart clench.
Suspicions made true,
My mind's not deceived.
In the most tender of ways,
The sweetest smile
Visibly glows in the dark.
And across from that smile is another,
With train tracks
Running through it.
The smiles meet.
My heart chokes.
My palms sweat.
My eyes flutter open.
I wish on the stars above me
That I could call it a dream.
Inside OutA warm summer
in prison, late morning
orange on gray.
A forest held behind
leans in, ready to hear
the whispers of
guards and their keys.
Smuggled by the wind
is one low whistle,
the kind of destruction only i deserve.i'm sitting on a throne of thread spools
with technicolor knots wound around my wrists,
and i thought it would be enough to hold me together.
i am weak - thread-lines etched into my skin
because i always tie myself too tight,
convinced that if i add an inch,
i'll melt between cotton molecules, liquefied.
and i figured that i'd finally gotten it right;
between the bulges of my skin and bindings,
i'd managed to shut myself up, and shut you out.
i even installed double-paned glass into every window
so that if the wind ever came to welcome me home,
i wouldn't have to chatter my teeth,
like I was pretending to converse.
it wasn't enough.
i smashed the windows and snapped all of the spools
and tore every single thread away with their shards
i created a whirlwind with my skin and my sin
and this time i don't deserve to be saved.
the space between cold and ice,
sweat is raining down your telephone pole neck,
now it's even hotter, pushing 90,
the air is thick and begins to clog your lungs,
dragging September's fog through your trachea,
smoldering your larynx and taking control of your entire body,
burning down bones like candle wicks,
now you're a waxen pool on the bedroom floor,
but wait, tender hands start to take a hold of you,
molding you a new spine made of incense,
hips out of honey,
and a heart out of the horizon,
beating, burning slow,
you release a floral smoke,
drawn in, between the candlemaker's cigarette licked lips.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More