Forging WorldsBeneath silver clouds,android insects skitteracross timeless trees.
Dying OaksInfection spreading:faded leavesfalling from bitten branches.
Space BlanketsPurple cloudsdraped over crescent hips--bashful twin moons.
Hinging TimeAutumn's diarydances in the breeze--pages ripped from barren branches.My father's father's bloodwas the same color, once--an angry, untamed flame.My own blood is an oil-spillchasing the metal of my joints--each move creaks.
Penning AutumnFolded between the pages of booksyou bound our spineswhere the dandelions grow--the anxious poetry of autumn.
Winter's WindowMisted palm printmelting ice spiderwebs,fingers framed by sunlight.
Digging up BonesYou left me nine weeks dueundressing poetry.Like a bad habit,I found you and I lost you. Who are you, again?Ghetto baby,poets should never make ghost children.
Red Riding HoodSunset's red capespills across the horizon;wolves lick sharp claws clean.
Dreams: A Gateway DrugA grief-stricken moonset--burning clouds for the sake of silver linings--capturesthe secrets of fireflies.Under the bed,hindsightkeeps a close watchthrough the dark.
1,001 NightsIn a land ofdreams and dust:the curve ofa half-hazed sun,devoured.
and the walls come tumbing downmy architecture is falling aparton the edge of this wonderlandbecause my keystone crumbled to sand.you said you constructed me perfectly,down to the last balustrade, butmy architecture is falling apart.i am a composite of broken coffersand cracked gableson the edge of this wonderland.my terracotta walls have come tumbling downas i inhale the dust of my destructionbecause my keystone crumbled to sand.
metallic skyyou fell from the moon in all yoursilver-skinned glory,i found you on my doorstep, blueeyes round with awe.kissing you is like kissing the reflectionof the yellow sun,my fingers sliding down your strikingmetallic figure.
desiccatei.you were 22 years in the making,a sponge without watersince the day they plucked you from the oceanand left the sea salt to sink into your pores.ii.I was something too heavy to wade in,barely able to breathe,21 years in the makingwith floodgates barring my emotionssince the age of four.iii.At the first sign of droplets,the salt of you drew me inand eased the heaviness of my heart.iiii.In your confessions of self-love,in your tales of embrocation,I was only ever your liniment;our brevitywas a thing to be forgotten from the start.
because how much does a broken heart buy you?if you care about her, you'll hold on too tight. you'll leave claw marks down her spine, you'll annoy her with phone calls and emails and texts, you'll make her sick to death of hearing from you.if you care about her, nothing will get in your way. you'll keep her on her toes, calling her out on her lies and then telling her what you know she wants to hear. you'll leave her guessing, but only on the things that don't really matter.if you care about her, you'll let yourself be vulnerable. it won't matter that your guard is down and she can see right through you, because you know she'll never break your trust. you'll let her see the heart of you.if you care about her, you'll make every day an adventure. you'll call her at the crack of dawn to go chasing dreams, you'll jump in the car and drive with no destination just to see where the road takes you. you'll make mistakes along the way... but you'll make them together.if you care--and i mean really c
Fragile--FFM Day 7Lindsey Stirling blared from my ear buds and I bobbed my head, furrowing my brow. My hand was shoved deep into my purse, searching for my keys. Instead, I found receipts from the Stone Age, a collection of seashells from last year's vacation, and enough pepper spray to blind at least twenty bears.Frustrated, I dumped my portable landfill on the welcome mat; lipstick tubes and loose change bounced across the wood and disappeared, lost beneath the porch. Spreading objects out with my hands, I sighed. No keys. "Damn it all to Hell and back ag--"Glancing up, the box near my door caught my eye. Wrapped with neon-colored paper, a large skull-and-crossbones bow held a handwritten "FRAGILE" note in place. The colors were garish, clashing with the ivory siding. Wrinkling my nose, I pulled the package toward me, keys forgotten. The paper was slick, slipping against the pads of my fingertips like silk. Examining the box, I flipped the "FRAGILE" note over--and gasped.Yanking the ear
metalin telling the robotthat she doesn't have a heartyou break it in two
the difference between usI’ve spent far too much timefeeling small compared to you,weaving a nest of uncertainty,nursing doubt in my chestlike a small bird.far too recently, I realisedthat I’d been dealing inabsolutes,and the universe does not lend itselfto those.to a true titana giant is a pygmy;scale, not size, matters.
.i would shed my skinwith autumn, but my veins wouldcrack like the dry leaves
AsphodelA beckoning:watercolour sky shrinking,too late, teeth fall; pearlsfrom a broken string.Blink and the moon ignites—but the sheets are stillenvelope-stiff.
MythosThe Hunter Orion's prey— a sky of fleeing stars: dawn.Chiron Sagittarius: the archer's arrow, piercing eventide.
LoveCaramel kisses drizzlefrom your lips, and Istill to a pulsebeat.
CynicismCrassly creative caricaturesof crisp contradictionsclutter my cognition.
The Life MeterMy heart races as I palm the coin in my hand; my last one. I tuck a piece of my unruly hair behind my ear as I walk down the street, my footsteps slow. The clock tower across town strikes noon and I glance at the simple watch on my wrist to double check.I look to either side of me, watching the other people go about their lives. I see a few of them standing at parking meters inserting coins. My stomach drops as I think about my last one.Dozens of shops line the sidewalk, each of them filled with the products the government designates them to sell. I am tempted to go in and buy an ice cream, anything to take my mind off the single coin in my pocket, but I know I don't have the time.Turning down Robison street, I pick up my pace, glancing back down at my watch.Two more minutes.My heart is beating in time with my feet as I run down the side walk. I slam my shoulder into a mass of people crowded around the front of a confection shop, gawking at a ten tiered cake in the window."Move!"
ZenSometimesIn the zen gardenRocks contemplate people
DryA scene in a book I readhad a woman leaning backwardover an old stone wellhand mirror above her pale faceso she could stare intowhat lay behind her.Locals told her the future waited therelike an old friend that comes upand claps your shoulderand scares the piss out of you.The woman saw her mangathered in the rippled surfacewalking a long road home to her.If I ever found myself leaningbackward with a hand mirrorover an old stone wellI imagine all I'd seeis dirt.
Alla RabiosaScorpio's tail slips low—a mari usque ad mare:from sea to seaover me, a devil in the sky above;and the Huntresspeels dawn like an orange.(Fling meamongst the stars:the Mad Queen's cosmic mirage.)
*Marriage and Henry*Marry Henry, no!I would like to keep my headI've grown fond of it.2013 Delice194130th July2013Updated 28th May 2014
Jealous WatersPale twilightfrosted the waters;nymphs sigh, jealous of Pan.