Midnight Births Thursday
It’s a softer light than what they say
Top heavy mountain listing off toward the compression of grief
I can fight a fury from the ground up
Stitch the rage into stomach lining
Drop my organs into the donation box
I’ll let it pass for a safety net
We all sleep on the ground sometimes
We all live in the open air sometimes
It’s only smart thinking
Call it a last will and testament
Charcoal as a beneficiary
I want to bury the inheritance
I want to cut out my own throat
Drown in the aftermath
I’m a Kid, not a Duty
You do a good job making me forget
how unkind you can be most times
all the manipulative little traps you set
how I wish I wasn't yours most times
broken and I can't
understand why I believe the words that come out your mouth everytime.
But I can't be yours, I swear I can't
You gave me life but I don't owe you anything
No, it's your job to care
but then I also don't wanna feel like a duty
no I don't
I want you to do it all cause you care
love me because you want
and not because you are the reason
I was born.
You do a good job making me forget
what you become when you don't get
all the things that you want
that you are the reason a part of me is broken and I can't
believe what a damn liar you are
and why I fall for it everytime.
But I can't be that again, I swear I can't
You can tell me lies but I don't have to believe them
No, it's not your job to care
but then I don't really believe
that you'll care at all if it weren't a duty
no I don't
I don't want you to do anything at all
don't care, don't love even if you want
because you are so damn toxic and make me wish I was never born.
You visit me as I try to sleep
The ghosts I loved, I wish to keep
You parade through my mind
Each death one of a kind
My grandmothers, mother, aunt
Uncles, grandfathers and father rant
All of them proud of me
in their death I finally see
Them give me the gift of worthiness
As I suffer from endless loneliness
And when I ask them why
They say we had to make you try
And then I see Michelle
my friend and beautiful belle
Sister of my heart she smiles
You're better than them by miles
With her quiet statement of truth
She sounds like my dearest aunt Ruth
The family we choose is often better
And suits me down to the last letter
Shuffling, Shuffling, Shuffling, Shuffling... Silence
He sat there, on the old floorboards. He sat there, in the dim light in the dark of this night. The moon had long since gone to sleep and so had the sun. So he sat there, holding a deck of cards in his hands. Shuffling, shuffling, shuffling, shuffling them. A card fell out, flipping around chaotically before landing face down on the floor before him. A shaky hand reached out towards the card, deftly picking it up and bringing it closer to him. He flipped it over, looking at its face that was now staring him down.
There was no movement, no shuffling of cards or heavy breaths, just silence in the dark room of his. Until there was no longer silence. The deafening noise of nothingness was replaced with a discontented hum and the shuffling, shuffling, shuffling, shuffling of the cards in his hands. Those cold, white hands. The hands that were so skilled at shuffling, shuffling, shuffling, shuffling cards. Time went on, the night growing darker at its peak and then becoming lighter as dawn broke into the sky. More cards had flown out and landed around him, always face down. Each time it happened his cold, thin, ghost-white hands would reach out and bring it closer to him. Staring the card down as it stared back at him. He would hum in discontent, before placing it in a row with all the other cards that had stared at him. Once the cards had been placed he would go back to that shuffling, shuffling, shuffling, shuffling of cards.
And then again, as the night finally faded, there was once again a deafening silence. It was only now that I dared to sit up and stare at the spot on the floor where he had been sitting. There was nothing, no deck of cards, no shuffling, no eerie moonlight when there was no moon out. I stood up on shaky legs, staring at the spot where I had always seen him. He had never left anything behind when dawn broke, but this time he had. In the middle of my bedroom, sitting there face down on the floorboards, was a singular card. I quietly kneeled on the floor and reached out with shaky hands, slowly and fearfully picking it up before bringing it towards me and flipping it around.
I stared at the Tarot Card in my hands for a moment, confused as it had nothing on its face. In the place of the usual picture that would normally be on such a card was a small mirror. I stared at my own reflection, not relaxing that that deafening silence had returned. I didn't realize anything until I heard that shuffling, shuffling, shuffling, shuffling from behind me.
joy eats me up like a shark attack
it takes whole chunks under
leaving red trails like ribbons
it takes my heart in the dead of night
and smashes into me at 5pm
when i take my common route home
it takes my leg out and pauses
like a shark attacking
it realises i'm not what it usually eats
realises we weren't made for each other
it allows me to scream
it allows me to find the shore
i pull myself out coughing, choking
i kind of wish it had have killed me
because now i'll have this memory
this missing part of me
a fear of the ocean
When Conscience Missed The Mind (First-Drafted Over Yonder Inklings Caught On Dampish Pillows.)
She staggered from the wreckage
Of the mess she'd made with words.
Words or lack thereof.
Reeling from the prior-certainty of atmospheric calm..
She gaped in futile horror with her vacuum of
The simplicity of continual existence was reduced -no, inflated- to a suddenly cognitive endeavor;
An immediate survival imperative;
If she can't figure out how to breath, how living works, and soon,
and end, and end,
such an excruciating panic
..having to think in words instead of mindsap and waxy soul seepage...
Logic.. in lieu of that precious ancient instinct pleasantly maligned to jiggling giggles, confined in fleshy substance, caught in knowing glances...
fine... she'll think.
the apparent ease
of balmy literal thinking
(clearly things which shouldn't ever have to be thought...)
And yet, and still, and more than ever... it's not enough. Not near enough to reason. Not by a long shot, not by a universe of "how-are-you"s and "fine"s.
She wants it back; The pitiful ignorance; the loving, quivering, trusting visceral bond; that squishily wound-able glob of fancyfree slap-happy slopfested innards she'd shared before all this.
before her gut seized up and wondered (not in words, not words, in anything but words):
"could those eyes lie to me?"
Rolf Crackblitz (blitzy to his 'friends') - a man haunted by the past. what hauts him he shall notvreveal, but his lost look as he drinks at the bar speaks for himself. you.can find two things at the bottom of a bottle- a worm, and the other one he can't remember.
Marius itchikawa (itchy) - a man overly fond of carry-on purses. he reads voraciously the obituaries, looking for opportunities.
Mehmet Tuscanini - a heir to a large fortune, he squanders money on frivolous activities like collecting autographs of gardeners and bribing bus drivers. some say he went to far at the community theater production of Indiana Jones.
Jarvis H. Jarvis - the greatest ukulele player that ever lived. made a name for himself in Finland. lost to the world during the spring thaw.
Hamlet S. Balcony - an avid popcorn collector. considered as an authority on the subject and often is asked to serve as an expert witness . secretly dreams about drawbridges but will keep his perversion hidden. if a scandal ever occurs, his career will never recover.
Sonny Listones- living paycheck to paycheck. deeply regretting his purchase of an air frier.
someday he'll learn the truth about ice golfing.
Constance D'evelroux the third- the fifth lady to be called Constance D'evelroux. likes to read lab supply catalogues . she was successful at casting her two predecessors into oblivion and shall one day become the first of her name. finds herself looking for mister right in all the wrong gas stations.
Mellisa perez - a regional administrator for a water dripper suppliers. desperately hopes to have her butterfly collection gain the respect it deserves. as the hours tick away, she impales moths and butterflies and dragonflies. a hurricanes seem to follow her, whereever she goes.
D'vasrsh Tzazziflaff - cheif navigator of a Varkian spice freighter. his phisical augmentation peohibit him from ever leaving his ship, yet in his dreams, he hopes for better things. in his free time he writes four-dimentional hikus.
count Elsrarfed, the Chterfarnian ambassador- quite capable of using his knife and fork and does not need a diaper anymore. his will as an honored guest must be obeyed, even if he needs more protein.
the carnivorous fern - a cognizant fern who sings and eats whatever it could catch. his fear of a dinosaur resurgence is ungrounded.
Life, in HD
On first name terms
With a small horse named Bonnie
By the park
She comes when I rattle the fence
Black with a white racing stripe
And ilvaite eyes
She doesn’t seem to mind
Drawn to her pretty face
I feed her reduced carrots from Sainsbury’s
I want to tell Bonnie, that recently, I’ve been questioning whether some of my memories actually came from reality
Or have bled into me
Through weird wires and dreams
Or intravenous icicles
Inception spears in the meat sphere
Been struggling to separate time and space, like church and state
Multiple mistakes exacerbate my tendency to conflate what’s real and what ain’t
But she don’t wanna hear all that jazz
She just wants what’s in the bag
(So pop the plastic)
To be honest, I’m glad
It’s a waste of air being sad
Long live Bonnie
She’s the best
(Gon’ be aight, gon’ be aight)
why is this scribbled
on the scrap of paper
on my nightstand
that i keep for nightly
what code did i come up with
in the dead of night
praying that i'd be able to decipher it.
who is myrtle,
why is she here?
i put that piece of paper there so that
it'd be easier to remember
but i still
what i meant
rotating star sigh
- reaching into the sky and plucking out a star for us
- just past the mountains
- an array of snowflake misnomers
- sanctuary, puddle and snow / winding path with nowhere to go
- seeds scattered, drifting on the wind / finding a place to bury our sins
- ruthlessly omnipotent / and independently broken
- courtyard massacre / trembling hand
- real earthquake, forever / taut like rubber bands
- grapevine foothold / and all-seeing plans
- holding water to our lips / no one else understands
- fortune favors the bold / fortune favors the broken
- paint me in stained glass
- something to digest
- overgrown bushes / strings in my eyes
- two friends on a hotel bed
- star crown made for the head
- we were worthless / we were made of ropes and leaves
- built by robots and held together by the breeze
- copper shiny smile / and hoodwink eyes
- soft now, they say / or did they ever
- for they slept on the moon / just to feel better
- bats in the night / faster than rain
- slithering under the skin like pain