May 2012
57 posts
3 tags
31 05 2012
we watch the iris grow and die counting corpses in the wind we hang in air we choke on twine cinders pop our eyes blood mats our graying hair do you hear us do you with our voices in the wind we’ve touched the thorns caught in our dragon throats do you see us do you see us we bleed pictures for the wind
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i am miserable but alone and would rather private...
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may the wind never have ears for secrets and never...
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30 05 2012
round and round on the merry-go-round such a beautiful day for a spin! we’ll shake the clouds loose shake the fair all asunder we’ll scream through the lightning and watch our ribbons go under
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new york pt 29 05 2012
Again with the letters. I think I write to you sometimes because I don´t know what to do or worse yet because I am bored or moreover have things to do that I don´t want to do. Right now, I should go on the treadmill. He´s out of the house and aside from the gardeners I have quiet and isolation. My heart is beating loudly and strangely, and I have so much pain in my body. I took twelve Aspirins...
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new york pt 28 05 2012
I´m writing you another letter. I sometimes think I should write letters to you daily and put them in that notebook I impulse-bought. Do you remember? new york/our sleepless city. I might write in there. I´m embarrassed to have never used it. I´m embarrassed I buy things and then am terrified to use them. I´m embarrassed I think I´ll ruin them. So much embarrassment and shame and today...
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its deepest shame is bleeding so much but having...
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new york
important to no one but me: this letter was written prior to last. Am I childish to you? You met me when I was irrational and immature, and it´s so hard to paste over photographs of who I was. I still am unchanged to people whose years I trail on with because I don´t understand how to develop between them and me. I´m immature yet, yes, though differently: hateful, disillusioned, selfish. But even...
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new york
I won´t number and date these anymore. Much of what I bleed is constant and warrants no time stamp. My heart is fickle, but my wounds are forever, and the bandages you make for me remain gentle on my skin.
I´m glad I spoke to you yesterday. Hearing your voice on the other line felt so real, but I´m sorry I woke you up. The higher dose of medicine is working better, and I´ve thought about braving...
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i welcome the hands of shadows.
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mercy. please. ive bled endlessly.
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20052012**
it hunts the smell of cyanide and copper and in copper words with copper tongues it climbs the hill and all its wrungs the smell of poison smell of pitch jump the ladder swim the ditch
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20052012
it combed the knots from out its skull which made it useless made it dull what good are ghosts if profits drop find a better tamer prop
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i drank poison to believe her.
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19052012
she hummed the tunes of summer kept a calm behind her eyes but in her skull she waited worked we had to die we had to die
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new york sights pt 19052012
Every time I eat a strawberry now I think of you. I don’t think it’s a taste I’ll ever regret, but every smell, sight, sound, taste, touch that recreates itself is a bittersweet flavor for the human I am made of. I sometimes am scared to make new memories, because every new one is the mirror of an old one is the root of a precarious feeling. I remembered an article today in...
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horror lit?
preferably anthologies in literary style but i’m not picky thanks
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18052012
you couldn’t re- cognize me now if i bled onto your tongues did you feel tugs at the foot of curtains or did your windows close too quickly
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i am looking for artists to correspond with via post. i don’t want letters about your life and don’t expect letters about mine. let’s start something creative. (reblog this too.)
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16052012ab
you thought so salvaged gem- stones with sweaty shaking palms and itching spotted wrists why do you memorize the fibers in their cotton why remember starched and nauseating smells bells storming in the distance [[MORE]] announce announce de- nounce the food do you remember why do you remember onetwo onetwo onetwo one — you swallowed bullets and you felt steel...
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16052012
the hinges bleed tension, and the monsters hear the sound. it flounders beneath water to the other doors and tries it tries so hard to break the locks. these hinges have rusted and the monsters swallow keys. no exit, no exit, no exit with the monsters closing in.
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15052012--
i rattle cages like skin crawling in the pits of hell. suppertime, suppertime, cry the nocturnes, pouring in me scales from their hearts. this is winter. this is winter. this is winter. this is sadness and howls i hear from trees where trees shiver from the sound.
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15052012
groom your scars, the tiles said as though the tiles felt its blood groom your scars and groom your tactics: rip tear bang rip tear bang rip retch growl bang bang bang fall against us, said the tiles as though tile fed on tears breathe our strength, said they, and bleed just bleed just bleed
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14052012III
it thinks it likes the tiled knots sinking from its knees it bleeds on floors behind closed doors and bruises best with these
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But I couldn't fight the rain.
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14052012}}
memorize it (really) burn your tongue to taste its language sweat your skin to step in- to debris do you breathe the sea because the sea will do this to you tides and shores and jellyfish and do you speak in storms can lightning char your insides or do fires make you strong don’t attempt to lull it like a beast it is sleepless it is it is it memorizes you and...
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14052012
cure it, said the sorrows to the moon; turn your tides and show it what’s it like to be alive — to be (happy )
but it whispered to the moon it said it said, i’ve changed my mind i’ve changed my mind because the waves will test my strength
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i'll die with only these memories.
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we handed knives to our demons.
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new york sights pt 14052012
I spent the day yesterday writing letters as closure to relationships worth mending. I wrote three to teachers and one to an almost relative. I cried hours through and had to redo a letter or two because I hadn’t been mindful of my tears. I don’t think it was love that wrenched my heart but shame instead. I wonder if I survive in the next ten years what my regrets will be. I...
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130520122
secrets burn beneath the palms of prisoners a blue, blue fire in the hands of those who sew their lips like corsets can you breathe can you breathe will [[MORE]] you ever breathe the fire beats beneath your palms and do you understand how it’s so beautiful how your world is exclusive mono- gamous and every secret in your hands is yours and only yours and you alone are...
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13052012
monsters did monsters do wring its wrists and kick it too but in its flesh it lights a path and will withstand the monsters’ wrath .
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new york sights pt 12052012
There’s a song sick girls know. The title is “Breathe Me” by Sia, and she sings about needing help and love and comfort. I know it because I am sick too and have listened to it in compilations of self-destruction. You’ve changed my life, but I’m sure you know that. New York as a dream wasn’t foreign, but love always has been. Comfort was foreign,...
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i am a medium for shadows
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12052012
it’s a shepherd for its wolves rattled pens shaking like the wires in its head shh shhh shush the static hush rattle fast rattle quick and the noise the noise the noise it faces walls of hungry beasts and in its injuries it[[MORE]] finds tracks of alphas blood can boil stale blood can boil stale and it feeds them still it feeds them still it unlocked the cages once unlocked un-...
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100520122
do you believe in how the sun sets so vividly and loudly in its death can you tell it why please tell it why see its body retching with convulsions look don’t touch don’t touch don’t look don’t but see and tell it why tell it why the sun rises if it only sets again
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10052012
i drink ceramic roses from a petal wound stone bowl but in the shadows i can’t ink i swallow darkness whole
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090420123
they breathed an emptiness behind my chest a hole of nothing bled into my ribs ”what can we make from bones and blood” they said “what horror can we make!” and then they opened up my rib- cage and never locked it closed never locked it closed
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i choke on ghosts i've stirred.
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new york sights pt 08052012
I prefer English over French as a language of poetry. I know. I know. French is so fluid and smooth. Poetry washes away in it then: Regal, elongated phonetics that are gaping holes for noise. I love French. The song I find most beautiful is in French. But say aloud: “en haute de la rue st-vincent;” and then “on the top of saint vincent street.” Use diction in both and...
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070520122
poison poems pulling lips bleeding nails fingertips splinters from its coffin bed (worms crawl out its rotting head)
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07052012
in the corridor it weeps dragging rags across the floor quietly it goes to sleep but then it bleeds it bleeds it bleeds ( more deeply than before )
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new york sights pt 06052012
I had my first manic episode in years, but it wasn’t what I remember. I felt so high on energy and on life and I heated the room with fervent dancing in between laps up and down the stairs. I don’t remember ever feeling that alive or powerful. Is this part of my “new” illness or is my memory bad? I felt like I was shooting up wildflowers and playing harmonies with...
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060420122
september death burrows into moth wings i catch the chalk between my palms and hold the burning reds against me sing me september sing me sing it’s not a tune i plan to hear again
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it's in my writing. why i vanished. if they feel...
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040520124
paper skin bruise easy bruise bruise ea- sy gentle rocking weeping cradles oh child don’t you know once you find the knife inside you bruises only grow
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new york sights pt 2 to pt 05052012
I’m going somewhere soon. Nobody but you knows where or when, so please keep that secret safe. I’ve discovered something breathtaking in silence. I can hear the weeping of stars and the footsteps of ants. I can I can I can. And what can’t I do? I can’t work. I can’t hold conversations. I can’t walk outside or shower daily. The dentist told me that my...
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madness has damaged me irreparably. i don't think...
(or maybe it has heightened me)
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04052012..}
deadened smile fractured palms they sing it seeds and echo psalms but winter’s chill is not withstood by toxic buds from rotten woods saints choke sinners break the limbs but winter quiet chokes their hymns
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04052012II
i have waited on the shadows of your wake i hum beneath my breath epitaphs of saints you mangled we bled too much into each other bled too much bled too much too blue as if the truth was trash and no trash was in the truth and you loved me yes you loved me and how you loved me! like love- knots stitched to tie a noose
