Tapsi let roseflesh brush his dead forehead from my lips.Taps by AntoinetteGiulia
i kept my sickness at bay, let the alter girl pray
in her solemn face, stripper heels, unhidden hips,
fingering the sweet thickness of cinnamon incense.
"God is nigh."
there stood his quiet coffin, sugared with oregano from home,
sinking to sleep at the feet of the greediest stone he'll know.
and the trumpeter Tapped crescendos into a world of proudest crows,
low-tide irascibility, and the unmistakable tyranny in the slowly rising fall
of his lung, breathing
"day is done, gone the sun" like it lived beneath the breadth of his
carcinogenic sun. Beneath his stars and the sky, God is nigh.
Alto, bluethe alien urge for empty words on once-friendly tonguesAlto, blue by AntoinetteGiulia
had possessed my homeless body. unsung
promulgators filled my cavitary lungs
the best they knew how [square pegs, oblong plot holes].
held hopes high in my shallow breath, ribs sunken low in my summer breast,
held hopes high in the twos and threes for news two or three degrees
warmer than the past had bade me believe would subsist in even my Sunday best.
let alone my absurd and abused frame, i am less
easily deceived than am i received, and a diseased entitlement entitled eustress
overtook naivety, bade me breathe with the same captivity
that captivated these critics of my northwest.
today i tasted loneliness
the way an alcoholic accepts
Echolaliacyes, he broke my freshman heart.Echolaliac by AntoinetteGiulia
he wrote my spine like compromise under
idealized fingertips gripping model female citizen
three years ago.
two years later i tasted his baptism sterile-sweet,
so we brushed feet under tabletop stares.
i never told him to wear me so smugly, he was a
harrowing echolaliac suckling lilac bruised pride of
mine three years prior.
gently now i slipped two doors down in his
stifling anonymity, slowly sipping him, him tripping
the light fantastic with my left footing in an uneasy
animal, sultry soft and clinging like a thing lifted
from my obsolete dreams, he seemed
less distinct than i ever could’ve dreamed and
less distant than his speech tugged meanly
from an extrasolar means of invertebrate dealings.
Elapsed.NOVEMBER – lightElapsed. by AntoinetteGiulia
has been property under
the title "propriety," sub-headed
"self-promotion" though i taste it like
DECEMBER – this light,
stewing between lungs like parentheses
enclosing goodbyes to skins barely worn, still warm
on October's breath, is
JANUARY – my light
and i sell its anatomy
like unripe strawberries.
FEBRUARY – look me in the eye
of my hurricane sighs and capsize.
i am a catalogue of what lonely people do
with their melting insides.
MARCH – ask if light has
room to breathe, make me
swear to disbelieve that any
wear their strawberry skins the same as me.
APRIL – ask intercostals
if i have extricated ambitions from ambiguity,
if i've determined sanity in this cacophony of symphonies,
of untried, untrue remedies to unfelt blues.
MAY – heart is a warmly over-ripened fruit, heavy like
JUNE – weight enough to sink a
let the great world spin.she once claimedlet the great world spin. by UnspecifiedUnknown
to fold paper for a living.
you had the audacity to believe
verses shaped to mise (on settings
of the briny deep) would never meet
i did, too.
tonight, rest lays base on a map
prematurely authored oceanus:
here is where i dream. set sailed
paled ail by her pneumonic seas
self-principled body of grief.
you are here, not lost to time
generated artificially over
wavelengths & frequencies that bear
no pause to the commas you never
seem to run out of—
no, you are here
with this volume-developed sense of space
& function, charged
by the polarity of our proselyte, inconspicuous
you are here
prostrating unmockingly, together
our own innocent novations.
but you survived her shipwrecked fatigue
with your own to hold. you
hardened your skin to her vesper’s
abstracted tease, anchored this trial
to wholly consented cardinal release
—you are here with me, cooled & serened
by her pa
20 years or 20 mishapsyou are20 years or 20 mishaps by diddlyhohum
sexed in a thought
without the action
your belly grows
white as the years
eat me eat me swallow
me whole, spit out the
bones and relish
didn't anyone ever tell you?
didn't anyone ever warn you-
i am thick as water
when it sinks to
you can see
to my insides,
they used to
boil when i danced.
you used to
compliment my hair,
you used to grab my hand
and call me angel
or 20 mishaps?
it's hard to tell
it's hard to care
|Welcome to my page, if you have any spare feedback, I'd love to have it:] I study operatic vocal performance, draw, write [words, music], play piano, and busk with my accordion, Barnabas.|