little pretty one
glowing skin silk, nothing but
rippled protection
pretty one left years ago
with teeth lined up in a smile
Tag: free verse
eyecontact
her face felt like silk
on the real housewives of slab city
carrying a mouth full of dimes
in a plastic bag
and a blocked airway
her face felt like ecstasy
a handful of mouth dripping
grey wool suits counting
posters falling off the wall
when the clock strikes midnight
her face gave me energy
choking
mouth swollen
arms woollen
perfect timing
tamdamn
The sandstone edge beneath my feet is floury dust,
that’s craving only water.
I tighten the weak muscles in my core,
hoping to stay strong and
hoping I lose my footing.
In the summer it was firm.
The sun ran through my blonde hair,
and past the curves in my skin.
My shoulders were soft and I dressed in carnation,
billowing and light.
A hot breeze caught beneath my wing,
and placed my toes centred on the lip.
It’s getting cold now and,
the leaves are turning.
They slice back and forth as they fall off the trees,
the wind urging their ears.
Forcing them into sticky black corners
where they will fade to brown and begin rotting.
The precipitation threatens paralyzation.
Heavy clouds will fire off ice bullets,
forcing the earth to dance.
LTD
its me
i’m really here
I am mouth-dripping
and
more bat-shit than you
she’s ashy grey split ends
bearing long acrylic fingernails
that slide and tick along the tampered glass
it’s bare flesh
and
it’s
really-really stimulating
all burnt up
your pieces too jagged
for mind spinning sobriety
the hard shards blooming with flame
gagged with
dripping
viscid
physicality
it’s your amputated leg
stitches
a terminal diagnosis
the medical nightmare
that perches on your chest
acrylic nails break the skin
with lock jaw force
heart spilling blood into your body
it’s fast-fast-fast
flinch
i did bad things to you
and like a poor abused puppy
you keep trying to warm up to me
but I am the hand that hit you
that is trying to feed you again
We are
Wet single ply paper is sticking to the counter,
and we are counting empty soap dispensers.
But who is washing their filthy hands anyway.
Her apartment keys are on a department store key ring,
and her expensive rings are on worthless fingers.
Painting the town with our rusty personalities and body glitter.
Yet we feel our best when we have been stripped down to nothing.
Stripping for anyone and everyone,
we are claiming empowerment.
We are messy girls in velvet dresses,
and well dressed girls in messy situations.
Buying shots we cannot afford.
Spiralling out of control in a city far from mom and dad.
We are starving and haven’t eaten in 17 hours.
We’ve been up all night smashing our delicate faces off the wall,
and grinding our weak yellow teeth until they crack and crumble.
We are swallowing parts of our teeth with little pills
and this help our stomach contents stay down.
We are going down on our friends,
and feeling utterly used.
We are painting the sheets with worthless fingers and broken toes.
We are practicing and painting , but getting no where.
Wearing out the brushes,
and brushing out knotted and dyed hair.
We are dying to get out of this fucking place.
Manic picsy gal
Feasting on the wind
Only to preserve a pile
Picturing what it would be like
to be preserved
We are choking
Intangible
picture that
thick spit cascading from my chin
trying to swallow
they won’t take that
I hate myself,
and you hate yourself.
mutually
marbled and cool to the touch
Holy Bedroom
The hungry bed waits for you,
with its sheets twisting and its pillows stiff.
Just take a bite of the apple,
let the juice run down,
dripping and sticky.
Warm milk in a plastic cup,
Just like grandma gave me.
The perfect temperature,
no bubbles or steam.
The bed is restless,
it wants to be full.
I cut the poached eggs
you watched the yolk spill out,
beading in small yellow drops.
Dribbling onto a spongy bed of rye.
Sleep my little angel,
tell your mom you are in good hands.
The bed has you now,
twisting its cotton sheets around you,
like little tricky snakes.
My Neck, mY bacK
And without a word they touched their bare bellies together,
Making slurping sounds.
Anna, with a drink in her hand said,
“It just made sense”.
“It just did” she repeated.
A ritual? A greeting?
Who knows.
Bottle Nosed and Face Down
I wish I had giant eyes
The kind of eyes that are so glassy
And so glossy
that they cannot be real
I wish they would take over my sight
Allowing for hyper sight
Seeing through
Seeing over
Seeing who I am
I wish my eyelashes went further than my brow
Catching tears before they descend
Cupping the salty liquid
Returning it
Carving raw designs into my forehead
Telling me who I am
I wish the crook of my neck
Was large enough to consume my family
Store them with me
Even when they are long dead
Decomposed
Their bones would become mine
Intertwined
Infinte
Showing me who I am
I wish I had a buzz cut
So short
You can see every mark
Every scrape
On my scalp
The kind of hair that makes you question gender
They can decide who I am
Starrfishing 