The Lady ExiledLast night I dreamt that my teeth fell out; I heard the staccato scatter and crackingThe Lady Exiled
like shells over cobbles under hooves
but didn't feel a thing.
This morning the postman brought your letter even though you're dead and I'm in exile or maybe I've only dreamt that, too.
So I read while the tea cools, forgotten,
its comfort displaced by
pulls on cigarettes until they are ash and I have reached
the curl of ink bent around your name, the implication leaving me blind and
marvelling at the body's ability
to conta
The Astrologer's LamentI expect nothing from you November men - men like vodka who burn cleanly away when put to a flame and afford little warmth even as bruised and gilded autumnThe Astrologer's Lament
eases into winter's wasting embrace.
Truly, what could I ask of men whose stars like frozen water depict an armoured poison known for perseverance and - immovability - behind which I might moor for a time with wary arrow notched, though
rendered useless by guileful winds
and their laughing tales of elsewhere?
A Future Coded SoftlyFor them it’s become a necessary dance of denial; forms sought during prescribed pockets of time are indeed found and fabric boundaries are crushed against so easily - easy, now.A Future Coded Softly
But Alexandra’s leaving,
and he hears in the admission
that the prospect of dislocation is nothing compared to her fear of drowning in the snares of mediocre constants that have already twined themselves about her ankles.
"Wouldn’t it be worse", he proffers, "If you only had one option?" And if that were unattainable? What t
manias1. i used to go online and make fakemanias
accounts on dating websites when i was feeling especially malicious and frustrated and rundown and sad.
female with severe trichotillomania and kleptomania seeking male who
doesn't mind spotty baldness or theft.
"that's mean," you would say.
and i know, i knew; it was mean. but i hated telling you that you were right.
2. sometimes i would ask my cat, "do you remember who stole your eye? do you remember your mother?" and i would feed him bits of pasta and bread and wave my han
My head might fall off?
Awestruck
--
*Insert witty, yet inspirational quote here*
--
We're the people, the happy with the broken hearts
The ones who draw a picture and proclaim that it's art.
Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.
self-promotion
--
Love is an abomination! It kills our animals, destroys our crops, and poisons the minds of our offspring. This atrocity needs to be cured. And that cure is... ANTI-DEPRESSANTS.
--
Founder of =Inked-Page | Staff for *100ThemesChallenge, *ProsePlease | Lit Critic at *devCRIT
--
a melting pot of truth and fiction
--
An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
--
Hello world! I love you.
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