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(!) This Night.

Content Warning/Trigger Warning: This poem is centered around death, particularly the death of a child. summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the … Continue reading (!) This Night.

Sit (An Original Poem)

I sit here at the grave, Where my world has died. I sit here in silence, As the world passes me by. I it here stone cold, Afraid of being alone. I sit here at the grave, Where my love forever rests.

to grief.

bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-uterofingers; the apple burstslike an appendix / and the seabreast to breast / is a mistressto the Kalahari sun/ mouthing /to my moon“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /threnody and dream, as if the Earth is glass /stranded / to the ghosts /of … Continue reading to grief.

Show Me

Show me the depths of art, The world that rests in wait, For the brush to wake, For the pen to speak. – Show me the waves of music, The pulse of emotion which Transforms our feelings And calms our minds. – Show me the heart of poetry, The incarnation of who we are, The … Continue reading Show Me

An Interesting Prospect

Hello, y’all! So, I’ve been thinking lately. Some of my friends and acquaintances are encouraging me to start a YouTube gaming channel, and I’m considering the possibility of doing this, and wanted a popular opinion one way or another. Why am I asking my readers on a writing blog? Simple. Because while this channel would … Continue reading An Interesting Prospect

her.

Alabaster the dissociatedMoon; a blood-hunt of my dreams,death the psychosis, torment the arbitrarymind, I dreamed of the topples ofthunderbirds, medusa-ing mouths of darkness, and finalhairs of serpents to planetaryshivers; and celestial deathof the stars, they translatethe whiteness of hills,goat-herding anesthesiain the sand-cratered moonswithin the dusty womb of Marsleft me my child-selfand I was her.  Written for the dVerse … Continue reading her.

I

I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a small tree halved like quarters, and still dying, I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— Ancestress of loss … Continue reading I

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