EmaciatedandEpitaphs

Beseech me brutality so bold all I'd ask is to hold just a single shred. - Last time I saw you, your eyes were red redolent and regretful. - Swallowed smiles and staunch sarcasm, distract from the facts you could hardly imagine. - So insolent, sickened and sightless. Can you seek to see beyond the irony, overcome the harrowing harmony of indignant ignominy?

The sound of synapses cerebellum neurotransmitters pulsating an anthem. The sizzle of gristle and grotesqueries inquiries intent on quarreling. - A shiver at first a curse disguised as cognition. 'Riddle me this.' A squeal squelching to a fever pitch. - Whetstone bones calcium honed into a spiteful stiletto; sheathing sharpness in cartilage. 'If carnage could stand alone, I'd acquiesce, release the stress. Name you my silhouette.' Let the gruesomeness grow. And if the haplessness should hinder me, then so be it, let this skeleton blister me; embolden the borders curved in complacency. These shadows that have shaped me irrevocably.

Falsely solidified, frost-bitten and calcified. My crutch; a dry-ice ridden clavicle. Shoulder bones to shame the snow. overgrown and oxidized ; a skeleton of noxious ice. Could you be any colder? - Glacial quakes shake the ache from icicle incisors. I sat there quivering as questions shivered free from my chattering teeth.   Was this your idea of courtesy or an example of verbal frigidity? Did you weigh each word carefully or merely blurt a blizzard of belligerence? - You were my illiterate, a hypocrite, hellbent on offering icicles and ignorance to a hopeless hypothermic. - The numbness was a fortunate side-effect.

People talk about life: renewal and rebirth. Happiness and fulfillment. Jovial revelations and enigmatic epiphanies. But what about dilapidation and degradation? What happens without renewal and rebirth? What happens to a soul who is no longer seeking? What I sought for disintegrated. 'Why?' Simply because I no longer sought for it. I suppose that would be the simple answer, but if you knew me, as I wish you would, then you'd know the answer is never simple. - At first I had mistaken love to be my driving force, as many romantics have before me; smitten and seeking affection from a significant other. Mostly, I didn't understand why boys w

Restraint. Have too much, have too little. balance. balance. Achieving middle ground, is key, correct? When you speak so little and learn so much. I see you as I see myself, yet I am weak with longing, and I fear to lament our longevity. The human condition. Coitus,  gluttony, avarice. I seek to sate myself in excess; the superfluous depths of insatiable satisfaction. Action. It 'tis but a temporary structure boasting of solidity; a cage created from fragility, that which collapses oh-so-easily. - Do not ask me to withhold glass houses and spit stones.

i. The smell of blood and rust-flaked fingerprints graze sideways against my senses and though I detest clichéd statements, I feel generic phrases spill sloppily through these chapped-lips and chagrin. 'I caught you red handed.' He only grins. 'It's all about point-of-view, perception...' ii. I grip the shimmering fabric betwixt these fidgeting fists, wishing for high-thread count consistency, for anything other than the fluidity bleeding through my phalanges. - '...some might see roses, others see lovers or bloodied tenacity. Me, I always see silk.' ii. As ever, I remain a shiver in this seismic tremor. Merely a fracture in

Does it bother you? Is it merely a whisper in the back of your mind, a fleeting murmur you neither forget nor find? And not to overburden your integrity, but you never really listened for the subtleties. Hell, you could hardly tell the difference between those baritone bellows and a soprano scream. I suppose my prattling never helped any, I would go on and on, ranting about cataclysms and catatonics, describing the distinction between the apathetic and enormous. You withstood my every accusation, eyes defiant as you listened.   My words quickened, syllables spilling out lisped persistence, asking you for elasticity, some flexibility

i. Would you listen even if I told you? A gasoline puddle reflects the sky in a kaleidoscope of swirl-smeared color, rainbow whorls distorting the image into an obscene depiction. And though I've heard claims about accuracy and intention, I've come to view these puddles as shallow representations. If I gave you a mirror could you gaze into it and look for more than just yourself? ii. Honestly, I tried. Yes, my words are polished, but when was the last time you cared? You're the one who taught me to paint primroses amid the Mojave. You seemed to prefer overbearing fragrances over my soil preaching statements of aridity and honesty. Then

The sun sweats, a sauna in the sky. To be elated and terrified   at the same time. "Beautiful mind..." I said so unsuspectingly. You were palpable, perspiration pressing through me. _ Stubble fringed kisses freckle across my clavicle. The bristled hair tickles and I release a giggle.  His whiskey eyes shoot me a wistful gaze. "Is that nostalgia, I'm sensing?  If I didn't know any better I might have believed you missed me." His words are lilted with a lighthearted mockery. "If I didn't know any better, I might have accused you of wishful thinking.  Unfortunately, I have always known you to be a self-proclaimed cynic, and for a skeptic s