angle(r) until it slides in and falls out by chromeantennae, literature
Literature
angle(r) until it slides in and falls out
brother leo, your claws hook
in a fog heap of molasses,
search(ing) high and low
for some semblance
of resemblance.
call it dismissal
or arrogance
but i am unable.
unable to roll with
archaic arachnid
thoughts spinning
tired webs in the crook
of your eyes because
our demise, these demon eyes,
demonize differences
for the sake of godless faucets
pissing (d)evils into
our waters.
but drinking in the runs
pulled from the crack
would be misinterpretations
fear-based with holes in them
instead of focused self-orientation.
i find it awfully gay
to always pull shit out of your ass.
collection of frag drag fabrics by chromeantennae, literature
Literature
collection of frag drag fabrics
armies unbeknownst
leave remnants of half-
staggerings, hanging
dragging towards floors,
drunkard babies
hiccup sour and sawdust
in a shape that resembles
age-coming.
stunting in these stunted
studded hubs.
--
flummox inside pregnant mouths,
tasting much too like old sodium
in a dietician's cemetery.
--
fragments like purgatory
fall-into, cold splinter
spinning spine in
flitters.
bow down, good mind,
take the limbs until they
sprout from every hole.
--
ctrl alt/era{dica}tions
del- doldrums in the
many pixels of many faces
menial in their expression.
disappear like reality.
--
ano in sideview,
profile a user just like who.
doctor, the lights.
using repetition
as a crutch,
i come today
with only singularity.
english, a difficult
art to master,
i look for the words
to explain:
my fading, emollient;
a ghost aching
to be reposed,
i tried to hide
under your breath.
but you spot me,
even when you try not.
i quiver
under your gaze,
my guise
only a semblance
of truth.
longing to be remembered
and forgotten,
i seek not old days,
but old habits.
old scabbing,
your wound has bubbled
into a topping for my skin.
and i am afraid
of the scars they'll leave.
i am afraid
of the war we've weaved.
I put on a show
Make sure that all you see
Is the me I want to be
So cleverly disguised
I keep it all inside
Never will reveal
I wish you could know
But I can't trust enough to show
So take what you see
Let's go have a good time
What would it matter
If you knew the real me?
We Let the Rain Speak Instead by FieryDownpour479, literature
Literature
We Let the Rain Speak Instead
“Come on!” I shout, running up the mossy hill. The trees around us shake as the thunder reverberates throughout the woods. Light tries to peak through the cloudy sky. I glance down with a smile at Mark running up behind me.
The ground is wet and I take my next step, I can feel the dirt slipping out from under me. I start falling backwards to an abrupt stop when Mark softly catches me. “Careful,” he says, grinning. I kiss his cheek and grab onto his hand. He starts up the hill before me and pulls me up after him. The rain starts when we reach the top of the hill.
“Over here,” I show him over to a flat rock
“I’m not anorexic, if that’s what the stupid look on your face is asking.”
He gives himself an inward kick for his carelessness. “That’s not what I was thinking. I just… are you OK?”
Her sunken eyes smirk at his fumbled apology. “Are you worried about me, or yourself?”
Honesty is the only option. She can probably smell a lie even if he keeps it off his face. “Both, I guess.”
“Get used to it. Keller looks all right ‘cause he stayed in his own skin. It hits everybody the same. With every shift- bang. You’re back where you started. You can shed the mas
My first wedding was called off when the groom was caught with the maid of honor in the coat room. Nobody blamed me. How could it be my fault? This could have happened to anyone.
My second wedding was cancelled when a wildfire burned up the field where the wedding was to take place just hours before the ceremony. The wedding party called it a sign and agreed that they had dodged a bullet.
Now I was viewed with suspicion. Once was a fluke. But twice? Twice was the beginning of a pattern.
It was another three years before my third wedding. I was full of hope, but the bride hanged herself in her dressing room. I never foun
We danced together, you and I, when the night was young. Jigs followed reels, and the whole hall moved to our music.
Strangers and old friends, it made no difference, then. We watched children and old men alike as they paused on the threshold, uncertain. We watched them take those first stumbling steps, faces creasing into smiles, and then they were whirled away into the dance.
Feet stamped in time, hands clapped, and skirts spun open as bright and fleeting as flowers carried on the wind. Together, we urged them on, faster and faster, until you were a blur across my strings.
The years have moved on though, and that floor is empty now. You
I just stepped to the sliding glass door
Which looks out on the lake
The night-breeze came flowing strong
Carrying a barely perceptible sound
And it suddenly occurred to me
How similar this moment is
To feeling the breeze
Enter the room of a downtown hotel
Every time I've been in a big city
And it's not only that
It's the life in motion
That breeze is the interface between the life outside your hotel room
And you, the guest
The guest of the city
User interface
That's the ticket
As soon as that breeze hits
Instantaneous thoughts pass by of moments taking place
Simultaneously
In that exact frame of reference
That exact time stream
Espec