Settle your bones, love,
as you lay them next to mine.
Rest your weary body,
and let your muscles
pay their time.
Let my fingertips dance,
their way along your spine.
I am full with peace,
Let me give you what
SafeThis thing has existed within me
scratching, clawing, gnawing away on the inside
governing each aspect of my world
It writhes with fear and hunger
and it never stops
Until your touch sends stillness
deep into my core
I can orient myself around you
and see and hear and think
Your touch is clarity
Soul Burn: Surviving the Storm Like the wind and the thunder preceding the rain, it is his presence and his words that reach me before his hands. There are only seconds for me to register the wall of seething air before I am engulfed in pain.
"How dare you correct me in front of your father!" He rushes me from behind, but I am not surprised. It starts this way every time. His fingernails cut into my scalp, fingers ripping at my hair to force my head backwards. "This is what you deserve for straying from your place."
I twist under his hand to face him, breath pushed from my chest as I am slammed against the wall. I am cornered. And I am almost ashamed that it takes this little slice of hell for my faith in the Gods to surface. I pray, not to Karma, but to Justice, asking for this to end swiftly and to separate our legal joining. I pray, not to Death, but to Life, asking for her to create a new fate in which I can s
Soul Burn: Touch He’s inside my room, sitting down on my bed, his clothes softly brushing against the blankets. Though the door is shut, I can still hear voices murmuring in the hallway outside. A small ceramic bottle hangs lazily in his hand. He sips from it every so often, scowling as he swallows. From the scent wafting my way, I’d be scowling too. He lowers the bottle, tips his head, and peers at me from the corner of his eye. Steel gray, like the daggers he keeps attached to him. Shit. Pull your head out of your ass and focus.
"What did you want to talk about?" He takes another swig from the bottle.
"I need to know... Well the thing is, I just-" What is it about this man that turns me into a stuttering, shivering mess? I stare at the bottle in his hand as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Everything I’m trying to keep under control is bouncing about inside my he
Sleepless NightsAnd I can't sleep at night.
I refuse, the clenching in my gut
hoping to hold down the rising sun.
I am not ready.
I am not prepared.
I can no longer handle this.
Soul Burn: Accusation "Why? How could you marry him?" Gaia's anger contorts her face into a frown, but, just like her mother, it doesn't manage to mar her beautiful features. She stands before me feet planted firmly on the ground, hands clenched tight, leaning forward with her own question as if physically projecting it will force me to answer. "He's soulless, he's a killer! How could you bind yourself for life to a monster like him?"
"First of all, lose the tone and maybe we can actually have this conversation." I keep my hands busy preparing the food in front of me to refrain from turning around and grabbing her. This kitchen is usually a haven for me where I can relax and share food with my family. It takes most of my will to not smack the accusation off of her mouth. Naz wouldn't be too pleased if I hurt her darling daughter. "You are in my house. You will respect both me and my husband."
I hear her t
FearYou cannot tell me
There is nothing to fear
of the dark
When all I see in the shadows
is the multitude of my past sins
Cliche"I want to spend my life with you," is not a cliche.
I know you can feel it
in the goosebumps that rise
from my skin at your touch
Soul Burn: Differences They walked leisurely, an odd pairing, along the main street heading north of the city. Their voices pierced the air around them as they argued over what had started as a trivial matter. But it was dark, as the lamps lining the street did not cast much light, and so they walked hand in hand,their magic trying to over power the other as much as their words.
"But why doesn't your Kingdom celebrate birthdays?"
"Well, firstly, stop trying to give me frostbite and maybe I'll tell you. You're letting your magic intertwine with your emotions."
"Oh, please. Every time you're irritated I get another blister on my palm. Lead by example, o chosen one." Amanda tilted her head to look up at him, barely suppressing the grin on her face. Garrett raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern, and her laugh echoed against the buildings around them. "Maybe we should try it at the same
Soul Burn: Last Moments The bed hardly made a sound as she laid Garrett down atop the mattress. His paper thin body barely rustled the sheets, while her weight created valleys as she lowered herself down beside him. Their bedroom was silent, the air heavy; she could hear the rattling in his lungs with each breath he drew in.
"I'm not oblivious, Garrett. I knew that as soon as F'neir died your body would begin to deteriorate." Amanda reached up and cradled his face against her palm, her thumb stroking his cheek. "I just hoped the process would take time, a lot of time.
Garrett snorted. "Hey, get that sad look off your face. I could still kick someone's ass if I wanted to."
Amanda wrapped her arm around his chest. His ribs visibly pushed against his skin and scar tissue. She pulled herself into him, her lips fluttering down just below his collar bone. "Shush. You need to rest."
enduring biopoiesis getting over it
in quick gasps of rabbit fur
and valley tangles
we would have
had such darling
strung out on fake roses
floating on our sun-striped backs
but we're so
some world-children cutting
out, tuning in yet
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
san gabrielSometimes you dream about a burning grocery store and it means nothing.
This is me standing in a hallway realizing that the people who left
aren't showing up for dinner. That's why it's only a theory.
Look at these streetlights, look at you wearing that wreckage on your face,
soaked in radio. I'm never here anymore, you say, What kind of epilogue is this.
To white windmills flickering across the coast, to your dogs
barking like shootouts behind the gate. A forest flashes against a bridge
and headlights bleach our hills. I used to be jolted
by the finality of these things, but now I'd say that our people's poetry
is best understood as a consequence; not the revolver but a stained carpet,
a note on the kitchen counter. How absurd, that the species blooms in catastrophe,
how improbable to survive the lottery of having never blinked toward the shipwreck,
to find an abandoned planet and fill it with chairs. Here in a parking lot in California,
the hospital glowing around us, we roll a blunt
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
Cheshire Cat-Pandora Hearts
Eyes the color of crimson
Clothes black like nightingales
Chalky white skin
With disinterested gaze
Hair dark blood and disarray
Claws covered with malice
The kitty smells evil bringers
To hurt its lost master
The calm but volatile cat
Protects its masters harsh memories
From the master herself
But you job is done
Go to sleep
And perish within your maze
Made by the Abyss
UnawareWhen you are two and five and ten
you are unaware ––
of the cactus in the windowsill,
how, fragile, each quill bends
and breaks and falls apart.––
Twelve years later, on a Tuesday,
you dream about a boy
who bumps his head
on an iron slate and you wake
in a cold sweat.
You are twelve when you are
always bumping shoulders.
Twenty-two years of Thursday.
There is nothing at all.
And you wonder (and
you wonder why)
each time you wake.
The cactus in the window bleeds
with you when you bump it.
No one ever mentioned
frightened things bite.
So you have always been unaware.
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
heart brokenIn my dreams
It was me in your arms
My lips on yours
There was only us
And the clouds
And the stars
It was the world and us
It was us against the world
But in your arms I could take it
Anything the world dished out
And with your kisses I was strong again
In my dreams it was me in your arms
My lips on yours
But in reality
It's always been her
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one