|Mah gallery. I hope you enjoy! ^^|
nostalgiathe hills were my friends;nostalgia by Mercury-the-Queen
i loved them barefoot
because they breathed beneath my feet and
their heartbeat echoed in my bones,
i raced across the fields that welcomed me home
with swaying stalks as wild as i was-
i was a wolf, a fox,
i was as untamed as the forest,
and as long as i had those hills beneath my feet,
i was free.
the rivers called me by name.
i undressed on their banks and the current lured me in,
the drag of the water pulling the heat of running from my
tired muscles, wanting to tame the wild in my heart.
i swam against that tugging current
just to fight something until i couldn't struggle anymore.
when i gave up i let it carry me, naked and breathless,
when night fell
the crickets played for me, their songs passionate.
i twirled in the moonlight
while the bullfrogs lamented the death of the day,
i spun in circles beneath the face of the moon
and the stars winked down as if i was their child.
lightning bugs showed me how to find the music in the air, an
resistancesleep has left its dregs in my head.resistance by Mercury-the-Queen
it is dawn and i
am splashing through the motions of the morning,
the resistance of my world like
aerobics at the municipal pool,
the air too thick, too thick, too thick.
it is saturday morning, it is dawn and
we huddle beneath blankets that protect us
from more than the cold. it is dark.
your fingertip moves against my side, i
wonder if you notice. i wonder if
you feel my breathing, how my heart tries to
rip through the skin of my chest. your mouth
it is saturday morning. it is dawn and the sun
is breaking over the horizon. it is dawn
and the kitchen window gives the best view of the sunrise
but we huddle beneath the blankets and
figure that we've seen plenty already,
figure that we'll see plenty more.
it is sunday and it is dawn. we are not churchgoers.
you sleep and my fingers flick across
pages and pages of other peoples'
thoughts. they had sundays, too.
i wonder how many were churchgoers.
i wonder if sitting beneath steeples
i promise it wasn't youone:i promise it wasn't you by Mercury-the-Queen
that boy taught me that girls who speak up
are not fit for loving.
that bastard taught me that girls who say no
are not fit for loving;
it was my voice or my heart,
and i chose love.
isn't that the greatest thing?)
when the pain weighted my
body to the floor,
when the carpet covered me with dust
and claimed my bones,
my friends called me lazy.
"where are your wounds?"
i cupped my glued-up heart in my hands.
they rolled their eyes
and turned away,
asked me why i'd turn myself
into some craft project
for a hopeless, wandering boy
and night after night i cried
"i don't know, i don't know,
i don't know."
when the hurt made food
stick like paper maché
in the back of my throat,
they called me sick-
when i bent
"i can see your bones,
oh god how i'd like to stick my fingers inside you
and split you down your middle,
right in fucking two."
the sorrow settled in for good.
it was a little like drowning-
they told me,
"well, i knew someone else who
|Mah gallery. I hope you enjoy! ^^|
a good love poem to get you in the moodthere is a sadness that lives withina good love poem to get you in the mood by KaitForest
liars. i told you once that you meant
more to me than myself, but if i were
truly your friend i would tell you to
i want you to slip from the bed
in the middle of the night while i
am still asleep. i want you to fight
the urge to touch me and trust
that i am honest.
i want you to find your things and
fill your bags with everything that is you
in that place until it is nearly
i want you to fucking leave.
without explanation or one more
ultimatum that you are so fond
of, put that car in drive and don't
you dare come back.
find a studio that
you can afford for two hundred
a month, get a cat, get some
friends that don't matter much
except for filling space. change
your number and if i ever
come begging, pretend that you are not home.
pretend i am some overgrown infant
who has lost their mother (not so far
from the truth,
stuck in a past you won't dare
stick your hands in again).
interstellar motion (the north star)i.interstellar motion (the north star) by Lissomer
i am in love with you.
i am in love with you
and i ache in every language i know
and a thousand i don't;
your name spilling from
constellations like some
pure wor(l)d built
there are days
i am ador(n)ed
by the skin of those
when kindness blisters
and it burns;
i am spitfire conflagrations
and no respite, no shelter
when comfort is the
you fly from.
in the between
i am paused
these are days
that feel like all days
and i cry out to believe
i am. not broken,
yet sacred and longing
you are everything;
but the sun
jerichoshe must have dreamed him,jericho by Lissomer
assembled of slow pieces
and called in the dark
she is a temple
and he is dismantling her
with chorused glories
that terrace and
he bleeds desire,
an ache to sculpt her;
a curse born of ruin,
a silence crafted sharp
in flickered glances
and in flame.
she must have known him,
borne witness as he
stormed and conquered
with shadows rampant
at his back
and she must have seen him
behind shut eyes;
not as he will be
nor as he is,
but as she
would have him;
under the domes
of her doomed
Organic SymphonyI wasn’t raised to believeOrganic Symphony by MusicInducedDaydream
In the honesty of art.
I wasn’t raised to
But when I see you,
Sprawling, languid, and open
In cotton seas of bed sheet clouds,
I can’t stop the rapids of my blood
From their accelerando.
I breath ballads
Down the slope of your neck to
The bridge of your navel, and
Gooseflesh rivets your skin.
With your frame covered in raised tines,
We are a tittering music box.
My tongue becomes the lamellae.
And if I drag my fingers through the
Fields of sunflowers pooled around your face,
Your gasping sighs are sung dolce.
But if I clench my fists around the
Blossoms and pull to bring them closer,
Your tune is belted, con brio.
Our bodies are a tactile duet, kinetic and raw,
And even though I can’t strum a guitar
Or even whistle on a penny flute,
I will master every pitch, tune and note
You are capable of.
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