you can't buy love with sex and that's okay by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
you can't buy love with sex and that's okay
maybe once you felt that you belonged, pandora
but remember when they split you at the center
that hope just keeps their hands
holding on a little longer,
that every “no” you swallow
for his feelings
is another man
who leaves you reeling,
who cracks you open at the chest
then turns and blames you for the mess.
the leaves of my heart can fall away too by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
the leaves of my heart can fall away too
i.
my chest knocks
but no one answers;
on lonely nights i
write you into poems
and you,
foggy-eyed and
morningmad and silent,
look at me like something you could love
and walk away.
ii.
at dawn i’ll
hold my heart above the sink
like splitting pomegranate,
feel your weight inside my lungs
as a scream;
iii.
i tried to pull the dark from your eyes
and make a sky of it,
breathe you full of love-stars
before summer’s end
iv.
each crunching leaf sends me into shivers-
(such a relief for the heart
to hear something else breaking.)
worry is just worry until it aches by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
worry is just worry until it aches
i.
“what if” is where madmen die
curled up like cordwood-
i curl like
the death of a forest,
clutching a universe of loose ends
in my sweaty fists
and
night by night
i fall into bed just to start tying-
a spinster creating stories to
make myself ache
oh
i cut my losses,
rock myself to sleep
swearing i could love enough
for two-
for you
i'd ease the burden of being mine:don't worry about loving me, alright?
just
take my heart
and come inside.
(sleeplessness kicks these eyes
black and blue.)
ii.
i have learned that sadness
is unlovable
and by extension
so am I,
this sickly, shaking heart,
the brain that reacts and over
side effects include dizziness by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
side effects include dizziness
they’ve lied to us:
happiness
can
be
bought
for $14.82
i can get
a thirty-day subscription
to not wanting to die
ii.
twenty-two years of sad and
i’m just now learning that
for some
living doesn't ache
like regaining feeling
from the cold
prurient fingers pinch and poke by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
prurient fingers pinch and poke
oh spring i pity you
those philosophers’ fingers,
their gaping mouths devouring the honeysuckle sweetness
of your dawns-
i cry for you, sister-season,
for i too have known the prurience of
balding philosophers, i too
have felt the sweetness pulled from my
unconscious,
that hand with dirty knuckles,
a bee bouncing from flower to unwilling flower,
pinning them against the wind,
pressing pollen to their faces
spring you are cold in mo(u)rning
hot in afternoon
spring it’s okay to take a moment to understand
that forgiveness won’t come easy,
that
the stains of love are hard to fade
and while your beauty was intoxicating
it
no answer still means never by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
no answer still means never
i’ve been up to my knees in river since you left
and honestly the cold’s numbed everything-
even the stars have winked to hush me
though the howls keep tearing through;
i wonder
how much sadness you can fit
into a paper throat
before it dissolves.
it’s been weeks since i’ve drawn enough breath
or reached out to touch a human hand:
i think i will rot here
sandwiched between grass and sky,
the weight of maybe
crushing this chest
until it bursts.
cities crumble slower than words by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
cities crumble slower than words
i.
and you are the jaw-crushing love
i always wanted,
nights spent grinding teeth
against my uncondition;
(isn’t love a way of growing,
don’t i stretch over countries when i'm with you?)
ii.
but this is not a love poem.
i burden time with heaviness,
bending minutes into folds of blankets,
tunneling to sleep;
i once had energy for flying,
arching back against the wind-
when i was braver i might leap,
arms flashing
until my body thumped against the sand.
iii.
i think i want to open hands into steel,
into concrete,
in lieu of words i want to
sweat-strain against limestone:
i have written too much for people
who don’t unde
not lady enough to be lady lazarus by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
not lady enough to be lady lazarus
i.
look mom and dad i’ve made it to twenty-two
and all i have to show for it is this emptiness,
all this space where nights spent unloved
carved out hollows in my chest i stuffed with dreams-
(people with gentle smiles
who from my bed’s edge
told me i was not so broken)
i dreamt until hunger
stole the spark from my eyes to build a flame
and melt fat off these bones,
(more hollows to be filled by hands and hearts)
waking has been a burden for as long as i can remember
but i wake all the same and thrash arms against the sinking;
i dragged myself across the world to reclaim me
but found more souls to be taken in and taken ca
moth-girl
paling with the shame of losing your way,
each light could be your home
but isn’t,
each honey-tongued butterfly
dances in sunshine
while you shrink and shatter
in the dark,
nights spent hefting weight against
fluorescent hearts,
begging one to split and swallow you,
aching for a sun in anything
bright enough to see.
moth-girl, butterfly cousin,
they will always love you less
than you love them;
you will be caught reaching
just as they are pulling back their hands.
you can't buy love with sex and that's okay by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
you can't buy love with sex and that's okay
maybe once you felt that you belonged, pandora
but remember when they split you at the center
that hope just keeps their hands
holding on a little longer,
that every “no” you swallow
for his feelings
is another man
who leaves you reeling,
who cracks you open at the chest
then turns and blames you for the mess.
the leaves of my heart can fall away too by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
the leaves of my heart can fall away too
i.
my chest knocks
but no one answers;
on lonely nights i
write you into poems
and you,
foggy-eyed and
morningmad and silent,
look at me like something you could love
and walk away.
ii.
at dawn i’ll
hold my heart above the sink
like splitting pomegranate,
feel your weight inside my lungs
as a scream;
iii.
i tried to pull the dark from your eyes
and make a sky of it,
breathe you full of love-stars
before summer’s end
iv.
each crunching leaf sends me into shivers-
(such a relief for the heart
to hear something else breaking.)
worry is just worry until it aches by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
worry is just worry until it aches
i.
“what if” is where madmen die
curled up like cordwood-
i curl like
the death of a forest,
clutching a universe of loose ends
in my sweaty fists
and
night by night
i fall into bed just to start tying-
a spinster creating stories to
make myself ache
oh
i cut my losses,
rock myself to sleep
swearing i could love enough
for two-
for you
i'd ease the burden of being mine:don't worry about loving me, alright?
just
take my heart
and come inside.
(sleeplessness kicks these eyes
black and blue.)
ii.
i have learned that sadness
is unlovable
and by extension
so am I,
this sickly, shaking heart,
the brain that reacts and over
side effects include dizziness by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
side effects include dizziness
they’ve lied to us:
happiness
can
be
bought
for $14.82
i can get
a thirty-day subscription
to not wanting to die
ii.
twenty-two years of sad and
i’m just now learning that
for some
living doesn't ache
like regaining feeling
from the cold
prurient fingers pinch and poke by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
prurient fingers pinch and poke
oh spring i pity you
those philosophers’ fingers,
their gaping mouths devouring the honeysuckle sweetness
of your dawns-
i cry for you, sister-season,
for i too have known the prurience of
balding philosophers, i too
have felt the sweetness pulled from my
unconscious,
that hand with dirty knuckles,
a bee bouncing from flower to unwilling flower,
pinning them against the wind,
pressing pollen to their faces
spring you are cold in mo(u)rning
hot in afternoon
spring it’s okay to take a moment to understand
that forgiveness won’t come easy,
that
the stains of love are hard to fade
and while your beauty was intoxicating
it
no answer still means never by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
no answer still means never
i’ve been up to my knees in river since you left
and honestly the cold’s numbed everything-
even the stars have winked to hush me
though the howls keep tearing through;
i wonder
how much sadness you can fit
into a paper throat
before it dissolves.
it’s been weeks since i’ve drawn enough breath
or reached out to touch a human hand:
i think i will rot here
sandwiched between grass and sky,
the weight of maybe
crushing this chest
until it bursts.
cities crumble slower than words by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
cities crumble slower than words
i.
and you are the jaw-crushing love
i always wanted,
nights spent grinding teeth
against my uncondition;
(isn’t love a way of growing,
don’t i stretch over countries when i'm with you?)
ii.
but this is not a love poem.
i burden time with heaviness,
bending minutes into folds of blankets,
tunneling to sleep;
i once had energy for flying,
arching back against the wind-
when i was braver i might leap,
arms flashing
until my body thumped against the sand.
iii.
i think i want to open hands into steel,
into concrete,
in lieu of words i want to
sweat-strain against limestone:
i have written too much for people
who don’t unde
not lady enough to be lady lazarus by Mercury-the-Queen, literature
Literature
not lady enough to be lady lazarus
i.
look mom and dad i’ve made it to twenty-two
and all i have to show for it is this emptiness,
all this space where nights spent unloved
carved out hollows in my chest i stuffed with dreams-
(people with gentle smiles
who from my bed’s edge
told me i was not so broken)
i dreamt until hunger
stole the spark from my eyes to build a flame
and melt fat off these bones,
(more hollows to be filled by hands and hearts)
waking has been a burden for as long as i can remember
but i wake all the same and thrash arms against the sinking;
i dragged myself across the world to reclaim me
but found more souls to be taken in and taken ca
moth-girl
paling with the shame of losing your way,
each light could be your home
but isn’t,
each honey-tongued butterfly
dances in sunshine
while you shrink and shatter
in the dark,
nights spent hefting weight against
fluorescent hearts,
begging one to split and swallow you,
aching for a sun in anything
bright enough to see.
moth-girl, butterfly cousin,
they will always love you less
than you love them;
you will be caught reaching
just as they are pulling back their hands.
you're gonna feel heavy. by jondiesattheend, literature
Literature
you're gonna feel heavy.
you’re gonna feel heavy.
that’s what he tells me
when he straps me in.
part of the process, see; very scientific,
very medical. 99 out of 120 candidates
experienced positive results. sure,
they were clones of one another, but hey-
sample groups ain’t easy to find, these days…
you’re gonna feel heavy
i’m gonna put you to sleep,
then we’ll start again.
you with me?
you gotta feel heavy, kid-
let it get you down,
let it bleed you out.
don’t worry- i’ll stitch you, just takes a little
needle and thread.
(you’re gonna feel heavy,
you’re gonna give up.)
Jun 7 2015- you were gone, and I was here. by jondiesattheend, literature
Literature
Jun 7 2015- you were gone, and I was here.
Since you died, I’ve remembered
the tight grasp of your arms far more clearly
than I ever could while you were alive. That coin
still lies in a pocket somewhere. I kept it- I just don’t know where.
Normally, I’d type this out into the void, or pray to God
that it shall pass, but. Since you died, I’ve remembered
that your daughter said you had a heart of gold
the same day you chided her for telling me to stop shaking my knee
like I’d embarrass us both.
Some people are just like that, you’d said, like it
was the most normal thing in the world. They just get nervous.
Since you died, I’ve remembered tho
hair can be swept other ways like wind through a crop top or rain wearing my lenses out of fashion I, hold out my hand at arm's length, touch the face of God but not the handrail lining the path of salvation. caffeine is not casual one night stands a discarded mug half empty - or half full - today we are half empty. discarded mugs swept sideways under the sink my teeth in fashion, I shed my glasses on long windy walks so when I almost see pennies huddling together for warmth I do not stop I do not pick them up.
binary like plucking sunflowers in August collecting petals like sounds, I cannot make them. the foundation of you & I is a hefted brick, ivory poached from the carcass of suburban strip-malls. you sprawl like glass shards of the future we threw ourselves through a corner storefront window, where a concert piano sits silent expecting centre stage amidst us peddles dipping toes into pools of shattered glass and blood, reflect your face in my eyes, or maybe our past. blooms like bruises plead my heart stop petals for the touch of your fingers, keys to hammer through my chest a crescendo, la petite mort. the foundation of you & I is a blindfold of ebony like silence, I keep falling on deaf ears; collecting petals, I am the rain in April arriving to find you already dead.
i promise i'll eat after i write this by echo-bloom, literature
Literature
i promise i'll eat after i write this
And it sizzled through me-
The sickness that used to churn my
insides, turn my joyrides
into a ghost town.
Bones rattled in the breeze and I saw
Numbers.
The numbers were back and they were
Standing so tall and so proud
And I heard whispers about
Collarbones and hollow stomachs and
dead things and I slipped back into
The decay.
I took the pressed flowers i keep
hidden in old poetry books and
chewed quietly on the
death
in them.
The petals crumbled to ash
on my tongue and I found it no wonder
food made me feel so sick.
Panic lashed through me at the
sameness
of it all and how it feels just like
it used to exactly the same as it
used to b
My sister wishes for a little girl to stand next to her son,
to have my eyes & her curiosity. Sometimes I want to see
how far my car can go before turning around all because
I miss someone or some thing. She says I have hips meant
for birthing, which I could take offense to if she were
anyone else. If I were anyone else, the idea of being
someone’s every morning might be everything. Nothing
might be what I’ll grow used to. My sister holds her belly,
her son inside, waiting for his life to begin; I look at maps,
wondering where I’d feel at home & if I’ll ever learn
my way around regrets. She worries about shelter &
How the CV Do
For nine years, BlackBowfin has been a steady presence in the dA literature community. He has applied his expertise, professionalism, and kindness toward his work as a Community Volunteer for the past year. We've appreciated him. The countless hours he has spent to make dA a better place for literature are without price. BlackBowfin is stepping down from his position as LitCV this month and we will all miss his contributions greatly.
We’d like to say thank you for everything you’ve done!
`BlackBowfin (https://www.deviantart.com/blackbowfin)
"We'll definitely miss having Scott as a CV - he did a great job running the show!" - neurotype-on-discord (https://www.deviantart.com/neurotype-on-discord)
"Scott has