Tag Archives: short

brushwork

peace in painting

colourful nothings

tranquil world building

depths over blending

.

peace from painting

painstaking everything

images constructing

for an evoking unveiling.

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In Excelsis

He proclaims to ravage your sanctity with the act of a knighted defender

Find another way to twist the tales, for he’s the tactless paladin, oh-so clever

And he’s far too proud to suck the hollow fibs right off of his glowing teeth

But when it goes around, it comes around, so just strike a match for his greed

Because he’s most obviously the higher man in such a simpleminded charade

Crashes his temples against the ground three times so you would hear his pity parade

He’s better off, he’s better now, he’s still stuck grovelling in his plagiarised sanctimony

All hail to the king and his fucking sharp things, his blood’s thicker with every abusive elegy.

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terraria

autumn leaves

and nothingness

seasonal escapade

ache more for less

.

hills that whisper

junipers without whim

love without living

wounds without skin

.

mental imposter

corrupted serenity

flimsy enclosures

where art humanity

.

mountains that shake

hellebores without bloom

live without loving

oxygen unconsumed.

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caffè e latte

there’s a galaxy

in my coffee

and it’s making it

taste funny

maybe if i stir a

bit and cool it down

then it will taste

more sugary

.

there’s a galaxy

in my coffee

i take mine rather

black, usually

but i might just

go on ahead and

give it a chance to see

if i like it milky.

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selling out

“hell to pay”

is a threat

to you, but it’s

not for me

.

it’s just

another debt

to take, another

lesson to keep.

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Sunstroke

There is no proper distracting from this arid weather

The senseless numb uncomfortably prickling against itchy skin

Rendering all feelings invaluable, and dull, moth wings without shine

All powder and allergic reactions, a vivid death head out of sight

.

There is no distracting, just constant tossing and turning

Just blackened eyes glazing over and peeling plaster casts

And tossed bedsheets matted with cat fur and old sweat stains

From the impenetrable lassitude of a vengeful heat that’s all bite.

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Rise and shine, sleepyhead

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Good morning, sunshine.

You are a slow sip of icy coffee on a sweltering summer day, sweet and bitter and decadent and satisfying all at the same time. The yawning sun is barely peeking out of the horizon, still playful and forgiving; bathing you in childish glows and warm reverie. Life is nothing more than a bite of honey-dipped pastry and freshly-made ham and cheese sandwich, a shared table with an aged stranger, a silly dream full of friendship and fast times and flirtation—life is nothing more than fleeting polaroid snapshots of blurry smiles and quiet contemplation. Now melt the ice between your teeth, let the chill run down your lungs, and let the wandering words on your pen speak for themselves.

It is only morning, after all, and the universe is still quite hazy. Breathe it in. Make it last.

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Filed under Prose

echolocation

PicsArt_05-20-06.06.20

i found a blister

on the underside of

my tongue, just

trying to talk to you

today—it’s better

left alone but sometimes

my teeth click against

it and it emits a little

hissing echo, like a

cloud of incensed bats

flying out of their damp cave

to finally face the sun

and burn their flesh

dwellings and night vision

impaired for another

sleight of sudden death

i wonder if this blister

will ever heal, even after all

the times i rubbed it raw

and when it does, and

when daylight no longer stings—

what else will be left

in me to h u r t ?

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klutz

clumsy

i’m so clumsy

i’m so full of

gasoline, and

stupider still as

i let you in

i let you win

and i let the

phosphate feel

like loving

when you sing

when you sting

i found it too

fascinating

one more strike

before you begin

and you’re clumsy

oh, so clumsy

you’re so full of

broken things

and when i burned

i never knew

that i’d also become

a part of them.

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flourish

there’s no

cruel in sunrise

no judgment

in nature

.

there’s no

pains in starlight

only longing

in rainfall.

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Filed under Poetry