this is my best friend.
her writing is different from mine,
in a way that i am the forest
and she is the ocean,
but it is still something i fall in love with completely.
please take a look.
it is worth the read.
tomorrow's just another dayswallow the stagnant blood dripping
from the gore of your cheek
gnawed open by dull teeth
gnashing around yawning gums
and heavy throats.
let it gush down to the basement
of your body, where it floats and rots
and leaks into your tinted lifeline of water.
dehydrate, deflate. a personal poison
as your veins unfurl and waywardly curl
upright to pick the locks buried somewhere
between your pores.
you remember trying to open yourself,
letting light lovingly tingle the dark wet,
but it only ended in angry waves of red & pink
turning brown as the sun folded up behind your curtains.
you remember the nakedness of scars
burnt residuei can't make you want me.
you pulled your fingers
from my spine in a stretch
of gravity tearing at bones,
in a stretch of sanity tearing
at tendons, telling you "stop.
don't want this."
but i could give you
the most satisfying sex, the
loudest moans, the hollowest groans
reverberating in this dark side
street, over the leaking rooftops
of this crackpot town, through
windows and walls housing in them
your very own murderers. the world's
murderers. we could forget them if
you just touch me, falling away
from the outside world,
knowing only the wickedness
of lust's language rolling from
our tongues like the messag
fear of alwaysanna's corpse is in the rigid crawspace
of the pale white house on ash tree lane,
where cattail fronds grow near ponds
and tree roots touch the sky.
anna walked down a virginian road
a virgin looking for a way out of living,
a way to just forget herself in luminous pools of sex
and dripping sweat and sweet flesh, a sickly
heaven-on-earth, but she made wrong turns
and went down roads best kept rotten in the
cryptic inferno image of hell; two wrong
turns and she landed in the shifty markings
of ash-bodies on trees, faces planted, feeding
the root of terror. this love is paved with
ashes churned from blood & lust, lust for bl
home-made speed (astronauts)who is the monster bathing in the
otherwise vacant cavity of your chest?
does she leak into the place where your
heart drowns, where your weak bones
your bones are atmosphere,
regrettably surrounded by the empty chambers
of you, lumps and lumps of flesh rigged with nothing.
wombs of countless creatures have decomposed beneath
the thin crust of your skin, core-bound, to live
in that same blank cavity encompassed
only by the monster-- what monster? the
monster is you, darling. you leak into parts
of yourself you'd rather not go.
you bind yourself to the rough outskirts of your skull,
never delving deeper than tha
my lover's a garden and god is its corpsedizzy eyes, small teeth,
you've called me home dripping
with the tears of your midnight
whispers, drenched with the consciousness
lost in the weight of your swallows.
i am lost in the magnetic catacomb
of earth, tomb-like and caught
in a forgotten masochism i once
kept stable in the frontal lobe of my
brain. tarry and feathered i sway, sway, sway
in the hollow vowels of your longing.
yet still i never ask what makes you long so,
what carries your bones through this dreary garden
only to lament, to lament in the careful syllables
of the white noise i follow through seconds.
nymph-like and oh-so dizzy he
i love you babygirl.