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triangle.we met on 34th street and she handed me a paper bag.
'you left this on the front porch. i'm sure you want it back.'
inside the bag was a dead finch.
i didn't have the heart to tell her that it wasn't mine to begin with.
my heart was long gone, taking a trip to the bermuda triangle.
we all know how that's going to go.
it was like acid rain had started falling from the sky.
in my ears echoed the screams of a million and six men and women.
the seventh was a child who remained calm and held hands with the unborn.
i can't count the unborn as numbers just yet.
they might be born dead and then i would be called hasty.
and we all know how that goes.
i ate at my fingers and now there is an infection raging on underneath my skin.
my finger has acquired it's own pulse and it hurts like a mother fucker.
i brought this upon myself though, so i don't bring it up.
i can only hope that it doesn't heal and the infection will spread.
maybe it's a new disease and there won't be a cure and i'll have a
nursery tomfoolery.there once was a girl on a roof
who said she had nothing to prove.
so she pushed herself off
and her life was then lost-
i bet it hurt less than the truth.
there once was a boy by a coffin
who's eyes a girl once got lost in.
but he cried them right out
and with a painful shout
said, 'i loved her. how could i let this happen?'
there once was a hungry sea
who beckoned a dead boy to-be.
it lured him right in
and because he couldn't swim
the boy died and now he's with she.
good girl.i'm a good girl, such a good girl, she swore with shallow eyes filling fast with crystal tears.
i looked at her and looked at her and looked straight past her, into her, through her.
fuck her and her righteous bullshit.
'you're not fooling anyone, ash,' i say, my words clear through the smoke i exhale.
she looked at me and looked at me with her watery eyes but her look didn't harden, only seemed to continue to melt.
a choked laugh stemmed slowly up her throat before she fell back onto the tweed couch.
you don't get it, she told me, her fingers sliding up her face and into her dark hair, grabbing clumps of it in her fists.
it honestly looked like she was hurting herself but i just took another drag.
'well, fuck, what am i missing?' my voice was harsh and filled with gravel.
i could hear her trying to cough up another fake laugh, but a sob ripped past her lips instead.
me! you don't understand me! she cried, writhing, palms firm over her eyes, fingers still latched to her hair.
stream of consciousness.and i'm waking up to the air rushing over me
and it's not stopping to say hello and it
smells like the morning and i want it to be the
morning but i know the morning will never come.
i've said my goodbyes and you were there next to
me as we stood over the grave with the tombstone
that read, 'we are all fakers and i just proved
it.' i'm not sure what it meant but you held my
hand and that was all i felt for the rest of eternity.
and i'm stumbling down the ceiling and tripping over
spilled out insulation from the walls that echoed
and told us that we were truly alone in our house
made of woven dustmites and feathers and hopes we
forgot in the playground sand that found their way
back over time that kept slipping away.
your smile was loose and your eyes were small but
my eyes were wide and trying to inspect yours and
i wanted to whistle in your ear and for you to laugh
and for you to cry. fuck, just for you to care would
have been enough but you stole the morning and my
heart but you cann
three days ago.i am starting to shake and this is not what i hoped for.
suddenly, my jaw and teeth and blood is on the floor and it's staining the wood floors.
i can already see my mother chastising me about bleeding all over the place.
it wasn't my fault, i'll tell her.
it was trevor.
it was trevor's fault.
but my god, i love him.
i never told him about my father.
never told him about how he comes home and reeks of wherever he's been.
usually it's Stallion's, the bar three towns over.
because no one knows him there.
no one wants to know the man with the eyes laden with the past.
everyone's too old to be thinking about the past so they look away.
i don't blame them.
i do too when he comes swinging my way.
'i woke up and they were there.'
'i don't know.'
'i don't know.'
bruises that kissed my arms and legs and face.
they kissed me there and stayed like black leeches sucking the life out of me.
just like all my lies that kept piling up.
trevor didn't know.
trevor didn't know.
beautiful.i am feeling beautiful and i can't see 5 feet in front of me
so i open my eyes wide and
tilt my head back.
life is beautiful and the stars look hazy from the smoke
you puff out of that joint and
i love it so much.
my body is tingling and feeling beautiful and my legs
are dangling off this picnic table
and i have a feeling we'd be kicked out of the park if a
cop came around but i don't mind.
your eyes are beautiful as i glance at you; they spark
up like they're their own stars
and i know your mind is a galaxy so it's fitting.
my hair is tangled and knotted and poorly dyed but it
tickles my spine and makes me smile
at the heavens while you flick your lighter.
'i feel beautiful, andy,' i tell you and although i can't
see you i feel your radiating
smile and it's glowing in it's purest state.
i look out at the uncut soccer field and watch the fireflies
light up as you say, 'you
are fucking beautiful. isn't that painfully obvious?'
i kick my head back, close my eyes and laugh at you
i. ugly yellow.my hair is in knots and i've got 5 minutes until i need to get moving.
my parents are expecting me to take a shower, put on a skirt, and jump on the bus to come visit them.
it's easter but the last thing i want are those fucking chocolate eggs.
the last thing i want is to comb my hair and put on a skirt and see my parents.
they aren't even my real parents, i don't want to know them anymore.
i'd rather stay beneath my sheets and stare at my cracked ceiling and wonder when the lightbulb fixed in it will die.
i'd rather call up sam and tell him to come over with some blow because i just paid the rent and still have money left over.
i want to talk with him and tell him that i'm tired and i don't want to see my parents that aren't my parents.
he'll tell me that i should see them anyway but i'll keep talking over him and pretend not to hear his soft voice.
his voice is always soft and makes me want to kiss his throat.
but i roll out of bed and drag my feet across the floor.
i turn on the sho
buildings'maybe one day we'll grow up and be beautiful and play for each other at night and kiss when we're lonely. maybe you'll tell me i have pretty fingers even though i know you're wrong and i'll tell you you've got pretty lips because i know i'm right. maybe we'll be best friends and run away to some lonely canola field because we can't take them anymore.'
'maybe you're right. maybe when the city isn't enough anymore and we need something prettier i'll take you to an allnight diner and ask you to marry me on a napkin with red hearts all over it.'
'yeah. then we'll turn into the insides of airplanes and i'll steal my daddy's truck and drive to carolina just to drive you to a field and open all the doors and blast the symphonies i wrote you when i was fourteen. i'll say your name too often because i can.'
'julia i'll tell you secrets about my collarbone and who i kissed last night and say your name even more than you say mine.'
'i'll tell you secrets but hannah i never talk.'
'i could make y
so tomorrow you'll lend me your arms
and i'll curl up inside of them trying
to forget the lunacies of blue eyes. i'll
lend you my vital organs so that when
our elbows collide i still resemble the
moon. refuge, you crash into my
knocking knees and your nose bleeds.
skies are grey and i'm turning purple
but the clouds still love us. it's late
enough (dark enough, cold enough) for
me to misplace bones. i wish nothing
more than to be smaller but i still fit
with you. refuge, let me become an
echo while i decide what i have to say.
the stretch of your jaw and breathing
bedsheets below us is enough to make
me love you. morning is far but you
are here and falling asleep. refuge,
you are worn but so am i.
your curling toes unravel something
like honesty in my throat, so i
carefully examine the valleys of your
hips, the dip of your neckline, the
ridges of your spine. all bones are
refuge, warmth is unfurling deep within
me and i share with you willingly.
tomorrow is forgotten w
thunderbirdmy hands thunder across
the empty space in your hipbone, and
I am leaving planes and prayers in your hollows.
we are lightning and your eyes change in the storm
the window is slightly opened and
light is soft
i change shapespainters paint paintings
that pull books from the
library of your history, (whilst)
writers write writing
to colour the inside
of your eyelids, (while)
i sing a song
that echoes life-long
situations and pay attention
to how my tongue sways
and lips and cheeks lift,
abstractly wondering how
that may influence my sex
i play the keys
on anything that you give me
to feel, or to hold,
otherwise nerve trafficking
is cut beyond the wrists
i've really got nothing
and no one
to feel like
what they have
coin laundrythought you were drowning
so i lent out my hand
then you pulled me right in.
i don't understand karma on weekdays.
thought i would let you drown
but i felt so bad
that the day after i shared the same fate.
karma works best in the weekend.
thought maybe someone else could save you
so i called that man in the coffee shop
then he saved me the following day.
i don't understand.
i heard you say i was different
that i had my heart all tangled up
but still, still in the right place.
i smiled at you. you smiled right back.
you lost your job, your wife, your kids.
this situation has a silver lining, you swore it.
your rent is three weeks overdue, your shirt is inside out.
little bailey, no front teeth kissed your cheek and said she'd like her daddy back.
ryan said his skateboard broke and he couldn't look you in the eye.
daddy cried. but daddy smiled.
you have your kind smile and a heart of something far more precious than gold.
this situation has a silver lini
one good night of sleepi laid
and i couldn't pass out
busy roads were
unlike for the
for the men who
it felt like home
both the ones
three hours -and
ten years- away
and do you know
what it felt like?
i'd raked new york's cars,
lights and bars into gar-
bage bags and sent them
to a bedroom
in the country
hoping my whole
and yet, another evening,
with a spark on my chest,
more flames ignited in
the deep of my head,
when will my pen
ever go to bed,
"go to bed"
a couch was
and, as often so,
my quilt was my clothes,
but i woke in short time
and was blanketed by pity,
finally, i got one good
night of sleep in the city
unstablei think it's time you said goodbye.
i think it's about time we remembered nothing lasts,
nothings constant but change.
i think this happened because you never forgot that.
i think i've been here, right here before.
i'm trying to find something in your eyes that tell me,
that tell me there's something more and you
never, ever meant to hurt me so badly.
i know you're sorry. i know that so well.
but when change is constant, you're bound to stand
still. and i can forgive but i can't forget.
i don't want you to leave because i don't know
where you'll go.
and i love you. i love you too much to let you go.
i think it's time we left this for everything else to
wash over. i think we'll be alright.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much sought after model. ^... Read More