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  Feb 2017 Frenchie
aj
i have learned to breathe under holy water -
grew gills so strong they are
lined with celestial gold.

the ocean is a puddle to me now.

and i ***** pearls of pain,
lick them clean with my acetylene
tongue.

my acids will heal what the world cannot.

pills and love potions  
can't take away
my virginity.

i am clean, so clean.

the devil watches me and
cringes at my radioactive light.

for i am dead and alive all at once.
poison, poison.

the radium drips from my lips like
babyspit and i am too pure
for god himself

so i offer my golden blood
to a higher power

that would take the pureness of it all
and make it an ounce
of what i could have been
Frenchie Feb 2017
Desensitization of the mass population.
Media crooning and crowing,
Subjects in ten thousand directions.
Pink peonies of peace,
Singed in a hysterical conflagration.

Sweet songbird, your vocal chords,
Eviscerated, mutilated.
Your cries, silent and yet,
Your screams deafening.

The red in their eyes,
Rage or fatigue?
Who am I to judge?
Who am I to please?
Please..
PLEASE!

Just save a pink peony for me!
So tired of the hate and fear...
  Jan 2017 Frenchie
ab
it's been a year

in other words,
i'm cold

in other words,
it's really quiet in this room

in other words,
nobody smiles at me anymore

in other words,
i've forgotten how sweet life can taste

in other words,
i'm lonely

in other words,
i'm scared of commitment and of communication but i haven't tried in such a long time that it might be worth it to try again

in other words,
i've reached out

in other words,
nobody has reached back

in other words,
all i see are
empty smiles,
polite gestures,
and shattered souls

i can see everyone else.
i can tell you which ones
are terrified,
which ones are broken,
and which ones are lost.

there are so few of them
that i can see it.

how are they genuinely okay
as their average sense of being?

am i the only one
that puts up this facade?

am i invisible?

can you see me?

it's been a year
since i've been kissed
or looked at
like i matter.

all i see is the emptiness,
but that may be my cloud diluting
the innocence of the many
and soaking up
the blood of the slaughtered-

can you see me?

i feel like i'm invisible.

i have to **** into conversations
because nobody would include me anyway,

i am a lost cause.

don't make me save you,
i ripped apart the last one.

don't make me feel you,
because i will just be torn away.

don't make me breathe you,
i will suffocate against your weight.

i'm an ice cube up against
a blowtorch,
but i'm not quite sure if
the blowtorch means it.

i'm wet sand
in a mold.
shape me however you like,
smooth me down to fit your ideals
but i will crumble,
and when that wave comes to find me
i will melt in its palms
and get sprinkled back onto
the bottom of the ocean
waiting to be found again.

call me a name
and i will become that name,
the letters will flow out of your lips,
falling like a river,
cool and untouched.

i will let myself drown.

it's been a year.
don't touch me
unless you mean it.
~don't touch me, but do
  Jan 2017 Frenchie
S Olson
-- when I have the tenderness of a writhing dragon,
he will paint flowers across my throat

as though to remind me that fires are indelicate,
and that I writhe in a prison made of open space.
-- this man will not smother me with his skin
when we sleep.
-- this man will unhinge the door of my mouth,
and kiss out the bullets stuck under my tongue.
                                                                ­               ---
whatever thousandth day I awaken beside this man,
realizing I have become the flowers he painted
across my throat, by braving my throat,

I will, unchaining myself from the draconic worry,
bring him his coffee in bed, with a smile.
Frenchie Jan 2017
There she lay, naked and restless.
Ground crawls in the hours of twilight.
A change is rising, she can sense it--
Like riderless horses,
                 She flows.

Raging, thrashing, she growls and groans.
Tremors of emotion, ripples like the cold.
Keeping it together, the cells vibrating,
The tempestuous mounds roll.

In the absence of her violence;
Once the turmoil has tired,
She lay in a green valley filled with wallflowers.
        Here is where she sleeps.

Alas, the peace never lasts.
In the stead of a victory,
The lesser lay in shambles.
  Oh how glory has fallen.
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