dalliance
she was beautiful, but alas, ephemral in that same sense. nothing about her would ever inform you to stay away, if anything her burning core made her attract those of any kind. she was ethereal in some sense, wise beyond her years, witty, sharp, pointed, desirable.
and i, as young as i was, fell as hard as i could. its not like you ever mean to fall for someone like that, she was just what i wanted, she just never told me that. i was just a girl and so was she, she was a blood red in the clothes she wore, silk laid so gently on her skin it reeked of a drunk innocence. the diamonds on her neck covering bruises that i still found goddamn mesmerizing.
and in the beginning you could take her for godly, unmistakably so, the power in the softness of her voice, admittedly off putting, did not disorient me. i felt myself drowning in her, she was never unforgiving. no no, she was something else entirely. she made a mess out of you but she still had control over your each and every move. subtlety that could be mistaken for grace. her nature was evocative, her smile encapsulating the same feeling dead men felt to feel alive. yet still, filled with inure. exhaustion. but the kind you liked. yes she was the kind you just craved, every inch of your skin burning with need.
but like i said, in that same sense, she was ephemral. the sweetness only last for the the second you bit the fruit so to speak, so when things fell apart and her nailmarks became claws, it didnt seem unbefitting. she knew the role well, both were her, the path she chose however was what led to the feeling of betrayal. i sensed shame in her, but she it , i know she did.
She was a beautiful woman, devilishly so. I dont know what i expected, it just, wasnt this.
Never did I expect this.
the recreation of life in 3 parts
act i
i will re-write the configuration of the stars,
create lighthouses out of each, make them of sugar and not gas
let them sustain life among light
i will create moons like emolients on harshness to the sky
may i bless you with galaxies reachable in the mind and eye
act ii
mother earth, i will recreate your beautiful figure once more
return of the demure oceans,
the vivacious waves and there crashing among the dulcet sand
i shall call the angels to carve you like chatoyant
conflate the colors of the sunset once more, and plant roots in the curves of your earth
i will recreate heat of your center, and women will be named after you because of it
i will allow you the most blooming flowers, made of gossamer thread and sunlight
may i bless you with creatures to take care of you
act iii
creation,
i will mold you out of clay and stardust
infuse your colors with the pigments like paints
all eyes and all color
i will create your hair out of gossamer like flowers
allow roots to grow from your insides, and create your body garden
your mind will be as brilliant, but far more
as you can form creation from thoughts
and the universe will be recreated once more
quiet bloodshed.
by the grace of gods call, the scarlet colored skies sweeping beneath the trees shadows.
from the grace of gods call, a voice like a crashing of waves
bones that riddle with anxious, anxiously awaiting us
we are silenced by trapped tongues and will
we are silenced by cowardice
we stare in the unknown like a tunnel with no forseeable ending
turn our backs to the forest fire
let the flames rise until they consume us
and by then it is too late to save ourselves from the ashes
cowardice is a strange thing
we say we want adventure, yet we don't take risks
say we want to become someone, but don't do anything worth speaking of
cowardice, the scarlet letter of our internal conscious
sometimes this world will condemn you for being a coward in the right
than a brave man in the wrong.
ghost boy
quiet.
a lonely, mournful silence.
reaping through closed doors
a whimsical violence
thunderstorms, sermons, old wedding rings
the macabre speaks
he stands solemnly
eyes wide, hands steady on his own epitaph
the ghost speaks
voice laced with aching fears, drowned out by the rain
he keeps calling to you
you wonder what he's trying to say
your face curling in confusion
panic.
panic consumes him, he's screaming but nothing comes out
he tries again
run, run, run
panic
running, padding on the floor
hands on the doorknob
it's locked
and you scream, but no one hears you, the rain drowns out the ache in your voice
and there he is
ghost boy
with his dead eyes
standing outside, with the keys
he drops them
pities you at glance
and leaves with no return
kitchen tile. failure 1.
panic. panic. panic
cold sweat forms and there you are
the room is covered in blood, but you remain unphased
there are corpses covering the floors and you do not flinch
the sound of children laughing and screaming fill the air but there is nothing more terrifying than dingy silence so you don't react
suddenly, she's there.
the girl with the sweet tongue and eyes
her hands hold fruit but she becomes Goliath at sound of 3 words
ready to destroy
her fingers are ghostly, they reach out to touch your skin like they had so many times before
no words
she speaks to you, but you can't seem to hear her and she grins like that was the point
suddenly, there are ropes tugging at your skin
flashes come from every angle
questions tug at your eardrums
why didn't you, why did you, who are you,
who made you this way?
And suddenly you jump between each of your failures
she sits there and laughs, as you feel disgust run through you
failure, failure, failure
like a broken sermon
slut, failure, disappointment
war cries of old lover tear through your skin
how could you leave them that way
panic. panic. panic.
you wake up, the cold glass of water near the nightstand shaking due to your vision
you tread lightly downstairs
she's there, cooking breakfast and smiling
you flinch
she smiles at you, kissing your cheek, moving on
"You're up late"
"Bad dream"
"Oh? Tell me about it"