Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Perpetual Ecstasy laces up the paper weights waiting easily the sleeves slip down the easel ritual by ritual window by window, fear of the unknown beholding the eye of the throne a pupil's pupil is as only as black as the destitute ashes that the charcoal carpools with as carbon.

A loud boom and my room mates with the environment the wind shook the winds croon the chimney like old saints nicking my fingertips with paper cuts dribbling like second graders yet not knowing really how to absolve anything.

Forgive me for my perpetual agony the ridicule of a two thousand year old initiate willing to dare to the caring rusted usuring raw ions fixated chariots blaring dub step as save the thief ****** but like the one who declares himself the backward ******* of the un-gold lawbringer. I am I am terrorist voted to be bring the third world warring down like a moment of courage steals life one fifth at a time.  An empty cup of Rest and relaxation sits as if an Eagle has landed upon the magic carpet beneath my now housed homeless feet, in defeat I stare grimaced at the plasma screen en-livid to the dessert sedition that lingers five hundred glucose lucid pancreas glowing green as bile, run like the Nile the white hawk head is now red.

Eat a lot of greens, the etiology of my disease is a well-borne cyclic machine. The Sun rose out this morning, my son rises like a glory. make babies the kids on the internet tell me today, last evening I didn't know If the twenty-sixth I needed to ask my manager in regards to my independence day behavior. Who knows why the egg cracks, the earth shakes, bowels quake, rainbows aren't strait, oceans consume no lightning, glass stands static at the edge of a liquid precipice...

My mouth grows less hungry every time i beg for poison, every trait i make justifies the lake that satiates it. poised to know no wonder, I lunge and mumble will i ever run outta thoughts to grumble? Or when my quills ink lacks luster the shine of mine metal will surely face the direction of my father. I here that its nice this time of year in the south, the Bronx zoo contains many types of creatures wishing to fend for themselves like an accident we harbor them from the elements they are designed to withstand despite the treason of nature they instill the greater curiosity of of our wits end freeing our passion to travel as nomads and allowing our children to just go down the block and right around the corner to feel the energy of the most fallen predators that ever roamed a far off land.

Like a pen in a century that knows no hand, like the apartment complex i science as my cortex my inhibitions fire like phone calls into my cerebellum, but how are the wires are connected. I **** in and out like limbs upon a Madrona, my internet protocol still sings my old phone number: Rest, Sabbath, human; Human, oh-so-serious, undefined, root. Yet the area code stays the same but the pages keep turning to a knew pain, as the numbers change so do the bills, as the money reigns so does the thrills, as the dew settles down so does the chills, as the root, monad, rest; oh-so-serious, rest, undefined, human sits determining a knew limbic to limbo to as he envisions a **** limo un-abbreviated appearing in his driveway one more time. I am just the house i live in, or am I a beast of happiness?
Lydia Sep 2017
All the good girls don't want to be good anymore
They want to get undressed
They're stripping to their ******* and dancing to Take me to Church
Good girls getting high and eating carbohydrates
Good girls wondering what was so great about being good
About being skinny and sitting in the front of the class
Good girls shredding their 4.0 transcript and missing work for the first time
Good girls are ruining their best pair of shoes in the rain in the parking lot
All the good girls just traded in their carpools for motorcycles
They've burned their old textbooks
They're trading greek yogurt for whiskey
Good girls don't know what danger feels like
They don't understand near misses or almost endings
Icarus flew too close to the sun
But Icarus was a beautiful backlit silhouette before he dripped out of existence and drowned
All the good girls thought they were drowning,
Thought they could drink themselves out
Maybe their angel wings would melt in the neon lights and they would be human again
All the grit they put into class was supposed to hold them together
But they've decided it was just sand paper, tearing their skin off
They've swiped eyeshadow on their ******* and called it art

All the good girls woke up hungover for the first time in a stranger's bed
All the phone lines are jammed: they're calling their father's and their priests
They want to confess and apologize
They've thrown away all of the gifts they have been blessed with
Except one
She stopped believing in miracles
Something was different
Maybe it was the way she cut her hair
Or the tattoo she got on her ankle last night screaming courage out to her
But she'll kiss him one more time before she leaves and never see him again
She wants to stain his memories until she is nothing but a figment of his mind
She'll walk out to her car with just a tshirt over her *******, barefoot with heels in hand
She wants to drive him mad
Maybe it was the way she filled in her eyebrows
Or exactly the right amount of *****, but
Her mother was dead
And her father was a conservative who believed in closing the wage gap
She could be revolutionary
Please comment :)
Riley Jul 15
Metastasis. Blood. Asbestosis. Tumour. All the other words for we don’t know. All the other words for dead. New routine – get in the car & go to school & get out of school & get in the car & drive ‘til you feel like screaming & walk in through some chrome doors and go up through an elevator to hold some bones in your hands. Luck doesn’t feel like luck when it’s like this: the day before it happens I am listening to the breathing of a man on as much morphine as I feel I deserve right now those

Painful       breaths   feel        than     beating
shuttered   that         louder   a           heart

What was I saying? The day before it happens I am spending my last thirty minutes wishing that I were anywhere else. C’mon, take my hand. I’m invisible now – watch me evaporate through the wall of the building down back to the carpark down to the creek near the chrome building down into the creek. Watch me shovel mud into my mouth so I can feel it too. Metastasis. Blood. Asbestosis. Tumour.

Mud. All the words for we-don’t-know-if-it’s-days-or-weeks all the words for it-could-be-months all the words for liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar

Hold my hand in this 1-2 rhythm. Hold my hand. I promise I’m not bones yet. I promise I’m not like that. watch me evaporate through my own life. won’t you please hold my hand?

it takes two to dance but it only takes one to throw off the rhythm and i for one am sorry that i threw you so far & threw myself along with it & it doesn’t matter & it’s okay because you found your own way back & i’m still out here without the rhythm & I can still feel it lurking in my lungs & I think the mud is genetic

And lately late at night when I find myself thinking of these things / of how much pain you can have / of how little oxygen you can subsist on it really makes me wonder why you won’t take my hand

does the mud staining my fingernails scare you? it’s only the ends of me that are ***** i promise i wouldn’t do that i wouldn’t do that to you please we can excise the rot from the tips of me / from the total of me we can excise it. Won’t you please pass me the next mouthful of mud before I start again / start to end?

What was I saying? Take my hand. Breathe in with me. Do you know who I am. Do you know why you’re here. Don’t cry. Take my hand. Breathe in with me. i’m invisible now. watch me evaporate through you /  watch me watch you not try to stop me / watch me tie the belt against the doorknob because i learn from the best. Watch me float down to the creek / take your hand in mine & press the mud back into my throat.

watch me climb into your car & by your car I mean / not / your car because you don’t know how to drive or you do and you’re a bad teacher or you do and you’re a bad driver or you do and you’re bones in a hospital bed or you – (Watch me Lose who You are)
(Are you still breathing in there?)

watch me climb into the car & press my foot down on the pedal that I know & go like i’m magnetised to your house because i know the way from the millions of bus rides to the carpools to the you or not you or doubly not you taking me & watch me drift through your back garden through your trampoline with all the exposed metal & over your pool with the tripping / scraping / whatever hazards & careen into your back deck through your second dining table into the den & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally & finally

crash through your back glass windows into the couch that reminds me too much of the same one that someone has / had but not without the blood on it but it doesn’t matter really if i’m never gonna see you again & let me just blow a kiss at you with my mouth full of mud before I bite my own hand off –

AND

(0400 – No response. DNR)

won’t you please just take my hand while I spew all this bile at you?
relatives dying is always fun and happens at a time that doesn't conflict with any other relationships ending

— The End —