Tag: writing

thermophile

OshanLeave a comment

I wish I could say

that when he left the pieces of him tied strings around me

and I had to cut them one by one

until I could stand on my own

I really wish I could say

that he burned me down

and I had to bloom from the ashes like a finger tattooed Phoenix

but I threw the zippo

into his tall straw body

and I laid the gasoline

because

I am a Thermophile

I think he should be too

because

water is boring

until you are denied it

then a drop feels like drinking straight from the hose

in the middle of a heatwave

love does not have to be comfortable

it can be a forest fire

when you really love something

do not let it go

set it on fire

and let it rebuild itself stronger

instant

OshanLeave a comment

feasting on the wind

only to attempt preservation and

picture what it would be like

to be preserved

we are choking on the

intangible

picture that

with frothed spit cascading from my chin

I try to swallow

they won’t take that from me

I hate myself

and you hate yourself

we are mutually

marbled and cool to the touch

seasonal

OshanLeave a comment

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.

Mercy

OshanLeave a comment

I wont gag

when pus fills my mouth

or when they scream

about it

I won’t do it

and

I won’t drool

at all

no saliva will meet the floor

or saturate the sheets

on my feet

I won’t do it

and

I can get through it

needles hooking skin

sinking in

I won’t do it

I’ll get through this

sad music is gasoline on the fire

OshanLeave a comment

I have a war inside my eye that

feeds my mind and the drops I cry while

I’m hiding wasted and

fighting

the drip in my brain that’s roasting the veins in

my legs while I’m starving tasteless and

hearing

these chimes in my ears that

have been ringing for years I’ve

been pumping the white noise through

to make it clear

still

I’m hiding wasted starving tasteless and

fading

they fought

OshanLeave a comment

I hate humming houses with quiet families

I prefer the throaty chords pushing up vomit

while I am serenaded by

smooth hits of shattering splinters smashing

I prefer

my ear to the floor

where sounds are muffled and

they dress in itty bitty flowers

to watch snakes whipping dishes and

applaud the waves of broken shards

bad boys grow stronger

OshanLeave a comment

a splinter of flame

hanging out of your pupils

sending electric pulses through my body

like a piece of gravity weighting on my bones

pressing the tips of my fingers

egging me to burn it

until the grass catches fire

and the ashes

and the embers

are but a fragment of the fire

worthless char for the worms to eat

the earth will become fertile

with the flames you passed

the grass blooming into bed of meadows

my heart in my stomach at the thought