-
black straps along skin,
bone corset crush,
white flesh pressed soft into hands,
powder pale, dark as memory.
-
endless doll, your starfucked eyes glaze over.
-
so intent on feigning madness
the goddess crushed under the weight of stars
-
the two other perjuries of silence and contradiction
avoid me like a plummy martyr,
left in the lovely desolate cold
saying prayers to figs.
caught lost in a lullaby -
was hell a sound?
-
i had wanted to fuck god so badly,
just to be held in that contusion.
now arteries shivering blue beneath the skin
tangle the soul to concrete.
-
daren't touch the bottle -
glass sees me for the anti-christ i am -
dirty girl, bloody in my veins, bruised inside-out,
a too dark consumption-heretic, my anemia too thick
for words. i am too healthy to be so sick.
i am too sane to be so mad.
peace is an exorcism by a goddess of needles.
-
i kissed you into dirt.
i loved you into dirt.
until you fell back to earth,
a decayed flower.
"his grave of rocks".
you melted from my arms,
dripping back down to earth
from some lunatic heaven,
i dropped you.
-
blue hands, blue mouth,
corrupted flesh...
my love: she perished of some strange dream.
-
scars like a rosary on the arm -
like rubbing on prayer beads,
a silent psalm.
-
my ghost hit me in the hallway,
she drenched my hair in parched happiness;
the shadow drowned,
i fell to the floor
with tears rolling down my face,
staining me through.
she touched with the breath of hands
and spoke with the whisper of petals,
holding me to truth
until my heart fell in on itself,
drowning me again.
i left what i saw with my other's eyes,
too beautiful to bear.
inside, the parasite lingers.
-
creased shadows fold around my eyes.
creased shadows drown and try to die.
i moved my hand to the other side,
this girl this girl this pale-skinned lie.
-
folded - within, without,
this spiral.
folded - the hands
neatly
before the ghost.
(out of egypte, honey-laden madonna came
bearing an agate-root for a heart
and ameythst-sighs for irises in her dark-pupiled
eyes)
-
incoherent angel,
kubla khan shattered her sight,
her head, her gown of spit, of salt,
webbed together with moonlight particles,
spider's frown,
all falling in a haze of bullets.
-
a diadem is secretly a syringe
-
the starry madonna, bloody & blue,
becomes the soul transfixed upon itself.
-
the broken prisoner of needles,
collapsed in empathy.
a glass prison, a coffin, submerged
in the violet-tinted sea;
and inside, a daughter, ianthe,
crying so silently.
-
lay there, a toy of his happiness.
-
wrought with blisters,
a starry silence...
glitter and obliteration.
-
i powdered my face with lead
and slid down the crib bars
into my bath of milk & pudding.
i poisoned my soul with prayer
then begged to be forgiven
by the junkie-whore passed out in the street.
i wished upon a star
splashed with vinegar.
sharp teeth.
-
a web of veins beneath my flesh,
pulsing out god's Name.
-
the dragonfly in her heart
was in sugar-water melted
gold-green and pearl,
the lacy wings becoming fossil'd leaves,
and she gasped....her last reptile sigh.
death comes again too soon for a young girl,
too young to die so soon, too young to be
so tragic....
in her greenest cat-eyes, oriental-flavoured jewels,
that tragedy revealed, a dragonfly, her lover
pressed,
petals, wings, and lips.
-
it's all too real for me,
this unreality.
the room shifts periodically,
i cannot see
what was meant to be
but for these lies inside of me.
-
the things that i would do,
going back again,
fell down to my knees,
my broken bones showing this sadness (please).
i regret faith.
why even try, these crossing-hells.
-
bethlehem is a house of mirrors -
the mad fucking themselves
by starlight scented flowers,
pools of salted tears.
-
an inky incantation, it's rosary stained
my fingertips black and blue like bruised
violets, bruised & blurred the ache of joints
as i repeat recite repeat recite my love my hate
these words so sick and few a litany
of boredom a litany of faith a litany of filth.
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the doll gazes at herself in the dark glass.
her whore looks back at her with violet pennies.
-
this game of fuck -
push back, open up,
tear out the heart
with pretty pavement -
smash,
this sucks.
(raving on, a harlot.)
-
breaking open the insect shell
and inside it's just dead.
it's always somebody else's doll.
the core of the heart
is the art of the soul
and it alone knows
how cold it could grow
when the fires of hope
have died down to embers.
-
like water glistening off of a shaking cage of bone
my soul weeps over my flesh
and my heart is crimson heavy enmeshed
weaving together in a web of stony solitude
the ache that never goes away.
-
the dead girl,
she says to me
all the secrets
she could never in life see.
i writhe about
in her ice embrace,
held to sanity
by a string of sticky blood,
from her mouth to mine.
black-crimson, her blood ran
into my life;
a collision of darkly virtue.
always behind me,
she walks unseen
in my inky shadow.
i alone can see her,
and in death we will be one,
once again,
as we were in the womb.
-
i don't know.
i can't feel.
(i do know.
i can feel.
i don't want to.)
what is an end?
where did i start?
-
when that cruelty-whore, Boredom,
takes forever to pirouette
the Day around the sundial,
i am become the cage'd beast,
the fly whose pathetic plastic-shuttered wings
are torn off at the roots.
-
water is wet,
my finger, her eyes,
all wet, my insides.
blood is red,
and wet, my insides,
my sweet daughter's eyes.
the tongue of a kiss,
and the flowered tongue of a lie,
my finger, my tongue,
and my sweet daughter's eyes.
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death-mary, held, rotted salt,
the girl, i felt, was long in death,
dead in life, a faith, some felt, a fault,
alone in dread of life...god above
all else felt inside nothing else
alone and nothing else, split open soul,
rent....pure holiness, desert of thought.
-
the lady of shalott.
not dead, but sleeping.
her prince rapes her, she wakes.
she staggers down the world pregnant.
she weeps into the river, it turns to blood.
arms call for her to join and drown.
children pull her from the river,
dead as a church relic in a glass coffin...
she awakes, spits out semen,
sits up and can't get out.
glass coffin. no one cares. they let her suffocate
to death.
and so becomes noting more
than a salt-rotted ophelia,
hair a tangle of weeds
and mind all gone to silt and mush.
floating in her urine and tears,
asleep and dead these many years.
-
my tongue lay starched
in it's silly bath of milk,
hidden behind swollen lips.
i felt shrivelled, trembling,
my knees somehow tied
to my intestines,
and those were knitting themselves
into forgotten charms against mere lust.
-
with bruised soul i went
into the valley of the whore;
with bruised flesh i wept
and still came back for more.
-
shot full of diamonds.
my heart is undone.
"ariadne i love you!"
heart full of diamonds.
my face is not love.
-
a word is a symbol,
which is an echo of the heart,
which is a personification
of the soul,
which is a tongue of god.
poetry is the art
of kissing god.
-
isis in creased white linen shift,
muslin doll with a mother's eyes,
full moon crunched crown of seven stars,
watery eyes and starry veil,
midnight hair and pale wet lips, fingers white,
touching to a white flower in her flowery hand.
-
moon-faced madonna
tangled in widow's-weeds
and black silk veil
gazes into a mirror into a mirror
eyes downcast
and hands upturned.
-
armed with faith enough to bruise the dead,
the ghost came forward and kissed my twin
with ectoplasmic lips
and smoky hands....
(the mirror cringed).
-
eating herself inside out with tears
the river princess weeps her leaves
of petals leaves of salt
leaves us all to fuck
the water-harlot drownt
of dread mud & weeds.
eating herself inside out all these years
i watched her come full and burst
these seven times
inside out
and outside in again
like with a needle and thread
then torn apart sewn together again
falling out and in and passing to
and towards and pressing against the river bed.
'i left you there to drown' - she said.
and i smiled so sad and said - 'i know'.
-
the ink is leaving me as i waste breath
and this time i think i might
marry my obsession to my mouth
to kiss forever into oblivion,
caught there fucking across the mirror,
two dead dolls in glass,
i don't need the girl of flesh for this
just me and my mirror-girl,
kiss lips cold warm up to the glass,
the gun to my head,
smash it all at once.
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