The Pole in Bipolar: Absolute Zero.You will push poetry from defeated fingertips, slideThe Pole in Bipolar: Absolute Zero. by ~AntoinetteGiulia
vowels out of reticent lips, drink agitation off of
victimized hips, and learn to rip your body from the
grip of prescription.
You will hate each minute and ask your
fading sidewalks if it's worth it and when they don't
talk back, death becomes the distance and
gravity between you and
rock bottom. You will suck steam from storm drains
teeming with the popular disease and
it will be harder than it originally seemed to
you cannot drop acid the way you drop names and
you cannot harvest words if you do not intend to consume.
i assumed you knew, but you cannot hear me over
Chronology.It has been 40 days since my last confession;Chronology. by ~AntoinetteGiulia
Now bliss is being left to ferment in back-room coffins,
days entombed in useless plans planning my next use, it has been
40 days since my last use.
40 days, and the in between abuse has weakened knees and,
alternatively, hearts. It's been 40 days
since i've seen you, and let me count the ways
i've missed you while my brow flashes like a sign saying
"It has been 40 days since our last accident!"
We can boast because accidents have
warranties, and until the bottle runs out we have
melodies to cover clowns to cover heartache.
i've never met such a nocturnal disease, a malady
Chopin nocturnes and
Artichoke Hearts.i.Artichoke Hearts. by ~AntoinetteGiulia
he dared me to take a hit half as hard as i'd hit him. it'd been
a year though, and i couldn't remember anything,
like how it felt to be cast aside, or how my fingers felt
inside his pride. i'm blaming it on time, but
it could just be the medicine.
Stability took off faster than i
could take off my body,
but he said "dear, slip out of your skin,
into something a bit less
daunting." that was a month ago, though, and
it's been minutes since then.
now his mouth's a curtain on our twin stages
His teeth are a fucking turnstile,
i can't win.
Meanwhile i'll turn his lost clothes in
for men who share his
Elemental Imbalance.Are we defined by our affinity for light? i feel it isElemental Imbalance. by ~AntoinetteGiulia
what sinks me into situations like these.
Sometimes it is
as soft as my palette, juxtaposing contrast
and conjunct; though
his breath is never soft
in the cathedral of my mouth.
electric crucifix of dreams arching,
arching across archaic water
bridge: can we go back to
the way it used to be?
i no longer desire my person
to be buttered into a demurer state.
Drugged skin, we will
forget him. He whose fingers have
explained me is unworthy of I-90. Lighting the
wicks of polar hearts, i've rubbed my
memory raw and still cannot see
what i saw in february.
Take me b
untitledthere’s something so strangeuntitled by *UnspecifiedUnknown
in the way you say “petrichor”, how the chaos behind your voice
cries the opposite of anything so balancing & serene. strange,
how “see you next time it rains” tears more of a dangerous calmness
than what its meant to seep.
ghosts in the photograph never lied to mei never listened to the mixtapeghosts in the photograph never lied to me by ~v-espertine
that you made for me. i know
the songs you listen to
are made for space age mountain
climbers and night birds who cause
avalanches. i am your
inferior in intellect
and depth of emotion so i can't
focus enough to feel
the coldness of each
auroral valley and every
sunrise held together
for twelve quiet minutes.
you don't listen to music
like that anymore, you
say, because what colorfully
defeats depression in one
lifetime brings it back
in another with its eyes sewn
shut. but i can't help
the insane jealousy i feel
for how you lived
back then, choking on
the metallic residue of