MeretriciousA sinkhole of foreverplay declared its own futility,Meretricious by AntoinetteGiulia
maybe in quiet reference to the sheer superfluity
of twin fertilities, her body and mine
(a subconscious breach, my body in mind).
In time i am drained of my fermented fire: my evenings expire,
having been atomized into prepositions to propositions.
Former selves surmised i'm made for this kind of faithless fission,
volitional hands deft with the slickness to
shatter that supposition:
i could never love like this,
shoved into casualty by this sickness
wearing my likeness like i really like this,
stripped of stomach lining and scraping off clothes.
i'm nose to nose with a displeasure coined
from the warped loins of what I've claimed to know.
Love Poem No. 140.5Sometimes i want to choke on all the poems i will never show you.Love Poem No. 140.5 by AntoinetteGiulia
No matter how many times your laugh makes me want to touch you,
i can smell the human on your breath and feel the tension in my bottleneck
from all the nights i've pretended to have something half as beautiful as you.
This summer i'm making roadkill of all the poems i've written for you
on the highway stretching my second string heartstrings across the midwest
until i've got nothing less than a desire and inability to sing.
[i'm beginning to think being human means holding doors open
for people you know are not going to come.]
Still my body's twirling around my overzealous abdomen and
i've got to learn how to keep it to myself.
Still i'm sick and picking this fiery fruit of a sun from joyless skies to
warm my downtrodden insides because your eyes are my photokeratitis
and now i'm blind
see if there's anything you want in my pink and spastic underbelly.
Black Dog SinI am an old house,Black Dog Sin by Nullibicity
paint chipping and the
bed more scared
than hard, joints popping
with every wayward wind,
and I thought we were fine.
I thought you were
happy in the shell of
my Amygdala, worshipping
my Hippocampus like a
but that was one bone you
quite swallow, love... though
you swallowed the moon
(against all judgement) and
in the damnable poison
of my happy, go-
I opened my mouth, too.
I choked on the dust
resting in the
rafters of memories,
the collision of
universes too loud to
ignore, and I burnt
out with comets before the
star of Emmanuel, the irony
being the alter I plagued,
the smell of smiling apple
trees violent enough to
scare the lambs away.
So the wolves
came out to join your song,
and I trembled and tried
to scream in a pitch that
wouldn't shatter my lungs,
three broken dreams too
far, but I ended
up breaking, anyway.
No one picked me up,
and I grew to
think I was okay
in the daily cut
|Welcome to my page! if you have any spare feedback, I'd love to have it. I study classical singing, draw, write [words, music], play piano, and busk with my accordion, Barnabas.|