3.12 (regarding that letter i never finished.)i wanted to write about one hundred years of solitude. i wanted to tell you how it was the first book i read that made my spine quiver and my belly quake. how it was the first time i cried over sentences that curled like silk around my throat and choked me with hurt and tasted of lighting in summer. i wanted so badly to write this sweeping addendum, to make you feel it, like i felt it.3.12 (regarding that letter i never finished.) by ~maimtorturekill
my mother was dead and my magic was leaving me and i couldn’t see the ocean from my bedroom window, and everything was just darkness and dust and a dead piano in the corner of the cellar, and the words locked there in the pages of that book were my bible
(4.59)my life, as it stands,(4.59) by ~maimtorturekill
has coalesced, condensed,
into so many spilled pencils and a few haphazard ribs
splayed canvas-beige across my sheets,
the echoes of barking dogs nipping at the heels of my dreams.
for whatever reason, more than anytime before,
there is hidden meaning in everything i see;
the streamers of spidersilk glinting silver and bright in pockets of sunlight from the branches of my dead brothers cherry tree,
tyrannical thunderclaps booming down from every storm three a.m has had to offer this week,
some kind of philosophical sledgehammer in the sunset knuckling toward my stretch of coastline even as i'm writing this.
3.56 (or how science lies)i painted my nails today. straightened my hair. plucked my eyebrows. this morning i laid still beneath my blankets, palms to belly beneath the waistband of my underwear, tracing the hollow of my lost womanhood, the scars i know no one else can feel but me, and i wondered, if i cannot perform the duties of my sex, am i a woman, still?3.56 (or how science lies) by ~maimtorturekill
do my nails and my hair and my sculpted features camouflage my biological ineptitudes, or exacerbate them? does my striving toward some sort of beauty make a liar out of me?
i keep thinking, maybe, someday, i will not be so hard. perhaps, in a year or three, five, perhaps i will meet a gentle man who aches for
1.49do you love me?1.49 by ~maimtorturekill
she whispered, while the feathers fell like rain, black shadows shimmering with smoke through the embers of the sparking sun.
do you love me?
a plea, a prayer, desperate as ancient bones drying into dust.
she cried, in a voice like breaking glass, keening wind, bursting stars.
but, like the wolves coiling silverswift and hungry through the shadows at my feet, the singing moon was all that i could hear, and the lightning in the air, a strong, soft
'come to me, child. run to me.'
and so, while her weeping and the crashing of her tears to the dirt raged on silently before me, i lau
Rabbitto eat the sunRabbit by ~PennyTheButcher
you stretch upward
from illuminated rabbit form
moonstung and snowblind
to the excuses of the sea
the stones are whispering silence
beneath your calloused, bitten heels
and you knife out towards civility
with tiny claws and rabid teeth
your mouth is full-
swallow down the bleeding sun
and retreat to darkened hollows
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dont be a dick.