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LEGALLY literally INSANE I could tell you a story of beauty and butterflies and fuzzy feelings, but it wouldn't be accurate or useful. It wouldn't be entertaining, or helpful, or even truthful. It would be lying, and I would be the liar.
So I'll start by saying, I have a freckle between one of my toes. His name is Fred, and I try to talk to him, but he refuses to respond. I speak of the garbage disposal, tell him of the tiny teeth people trying t
I am what you made me to be.You know what this is.
(I never knew
No matter how hard,
typical of reptilian whores,
and you were dirty,
much the same,
alive in kaleidoscope
(Intercourse at every
Only in the seconds I
(We are but
Dirty Needlesmy skin is an embarrassment of preconceived genetics
without sensory or proof
and all they could say was
My Dear, it's comatose.
tasting forbidden flavors
mountains of unconsciousness
memory is a sieve
capability in the mouth of my nightmares
organs conjuring art
quiet shocks of color
tremolo voices breed beauty with lightning
they claimed it was premeditated murder
an idea of expected growth
the cadaver is resilient; remaining
simply to leech sleep
of abandoned opium
I Feel ? This.
It will begin like light cascading through fleshy membranes. The sudden awareness of electromagnetic feeling that pulses through every nerve, and yes finally, today signifies the start of animation. Because yes, you can finally feel.
You are alive.
[Breathe] Inhale the tattered stars. Gasp as they tear open galaxies, destroying themselves and whatever is left of the O-zone layer. [Gulp. Gulp.] Choke down their destruction and remember, that those ever-so-distant wishes, they shredded the sky for you.
It started for you.
Static climbing into my tissue, and it burns like white noise or bleach or fros
Softcore Porn and Moldy FruitYou'd expect the bite of lemon juice to be enough,
o' but no, the incisions always indulged in moldy peaches.
Raunchy, biodegradable fruits
full of foul odors and seeds that say "Fuck You"
if you ask them to grow.
You'd think someone would begin to loath
the invasive glint of steel soaked in citrus rot,
but no, her stitches kept tasting for the ache
of scalpel beneath skin.
That familiar ooze;
peaches and crème slipping down forearm.
She grew accustomed to the daily rituals of apricot patches
molding to skin.
She understood the necessity of routine,
the demands of a schedule.
Red Feathers and Metaphorical OceansI found her degraded,
slathered in pomegranate puddles. Juicy sweet.
Timid blueberry tears dribbled
atop her raw pancake tissues.
Her offended coconut flesh
feigned feminine composure;
I noticed off-white muscles
paranoid and taunt.
Bones bracing for the sizzle.
into someone solid.
blackened texture - rabid, raven-eyed
complexity beyond explanation
Cockroaches Don't Smoke (To peer through his eyes; smoldering nicotine embers. Shuddering beneath the firefly glow.)
His charcoal breath always went with those cigarette lips. The consequences of kissing addiction.
Tobacco-scorched arms threaten the embrace of a chain-s[aw]moker.
Baby, I remember you with eyes of periwinkle concrete. All the independent paths of your freckles, they used to mark the places we could go, the adventures we'd stumble into.
Vanity Tortures and TicklesThe bath water tasted like soda-pop salt. (Convulse) But it's not enough shudder off the sting of stainless steel.
This aqua is a soup of scarlet volcano. (Erupt) Still the whirlpools ooze magma.
The tickle/torture of feather fiber taking flight. I tried offering the corpse her dreams,
she would only hiss through a slit jugular, "Bring me the maggots!"
(Revive Her) She will still wish for death.
The mirror smelled like iron and rusty teeth. (Break) But shattering the picture won't burst forth a new image.
Reflections spitting up scabbed knuckles.
Pisces"…so drown me. I mean, if you can."
A threat in her eyes. Triple dog dare.
And I'm on edge but I don't wanna show her just yet.
"Now you can't honestly expect me to be foolish enough?
Drowning fish is a fruitless endeavor."
She smiles, all fury and triumph. Her ocher eyes ignite; flickering then flaming.
"O' but sister, are you not a fish, same as I?
Are we not of the same blood, the same scales?"
And I hesitate, ever-cautious.
What's she hinting at? Huh, sis'?
What's that card sewn up your sleeve?
I hesitate for just a moment too long.
"And you would believe it impossible, no?
A difficult enterprise to say t
And Maybe I'm Morbid For Loving You"I'm starting to feel the maggots," she spits from gnarled lips.
Her yellowed eyes reek of festering wounds; infection seeping through her skin. I stare closer, noticing the wriggling masses clustered behind her eye sockets. Cream-colored grubs swim through her facial flesh.
I am appalled. Revulsion pools in my mouth, spills from my teeth.
"Oh God . . . "
She flinches, shame floods her features. Her muscles go rigid, stiffening at my reluctance. She senses aversion, animosity, hostility. Fiber glass slamming against her sensitivity; tiny shard
To Mix Gasoline and MatchesHer solar scars were aching for the aquafina kiss of relief.
But who among them would soothe her charcoal freckles?
Who withheld the capacity to repair such a scorched surface?
He said it like it was the first rule of life,
like it should be so fucking obvious.
She clasped singed vocal-chords,
tattooing questions into chest crevices.
Stifled lightning ignited organs,
highlighting silenced thoughts with neon importance.
The thunder rumbled through her pores,
infiltrating the epidermis,
seeking her innards.
She felt it shivering beneath her bones,
whispering within her ribs.
Seeing Red AgainShe kept saying something about cardinals, yammering on while I continued to study the swaying cattails, watching sunlight and wind smear through the reeds. I heard her mumbling something about beauty and youth and color but I couldn't quite hear her. I was captivated by a flaming sunset, observing the fire trickle through rippled lake water. Seeing for the first time an effervescent inferno dancing on ever-distant hills. I yearned for heat.
She told me of blood: moist, hissing, exquisite.
She said it was fire; a delectable, searing ecstasy.
"It feels like roses, maraschino cherries, iron scalding across your tongue."
Candle Bones and Wax FleshShe spoke of the fire in her bones, a savage electricity sparking in her skeleton.
Insults hurled like bullets between them,
resentment igniting like gunpowder.
Her heart beats blue beneath her ribs; a raw, pulsing meat.
Her lips quiver, furious and trembling.
She struggles to reply but
there's fire on her tongue and lead anchors in her lungs.
She screams, flames rupturing from her esophagus,
heat seething from her bones.
She shrieks scorched flesh from between her teeth,
pausing to acknowledge ashes at her feet.
"The useless remains of what used to be alive."
truth is, I don't wanna love you.Is it really fear?
Till my blood runs silver, pure mercury.
I know little of coherency.
Today feels like chalk and phlegm and pheromones.
I remain a retching mound of meat.
An undulating mass of muscles and organs.
When I thought of you I thought of flesh.
Sensation and numbness,
breathing while holding my breath
alive but always dead
I saw red, maraschino streaks.
Lines of flamingo pink creased across the surface.
Then I thought of flesh and blood and feeling
and for a second,
I couldn't hate you.
Is this fear?
O' SisterStart with something, whether it be words or thought or action. Just do something, anything to avoid this dissipating grey matter, neurotic erosion.
"I don't exactly remember everything." My words are timid, pensive.
The moments revolve, coil and ignite; flashing images with no particular order.
I scrunch my iceman toes, attempting to conserve heat, but the cold still surpasses the fabric of my Converse. My muscles tense against abrasive arctic gusts. The bitter wind raises bristled hair above goose bumped
The Poison That Saved Me There once was a day, and on that day I fell ill from lack of poison.
It was not yesterday, nor the day before. You could dig for decades but my illness was fossilized beneath the layers of passing years, where it grew like an unawakened plague. Waiting to swallow unfortunate events of immunity.
There once was a time, and during that time I forgot my poison.
It was not lost or gone, just forgotten. And how can you hope to find what you have forgot? The ancient virus crawled into my weakened blood, and unleashed a pain pressed between folds of time. The past pushed me down, unacknowledged years snapping my ribs in
Words Just Drifting AwayAnd yes, I have words, but they are crumpled carcasses. Too bare to fruit any flesh for those who want a taste.
Do not cherish my vocabulary. These decayed words have gone sour. And who wants to savor stomach acid?
Yes, the ink is bitter, the paper brittle, but me, I'm not broken or bruised or beaten, just silent. Who would care to listen?
Uneloquent idleness has stolen my lips, and they can no longer speak all I want to say. Thoughts mean little to a frozen mouth.
And yes, I have words, but why would I use them? When they mean so little to myself, and everyone else?
The Hilarity of I-Hate-YouThe remnents of something I do not know echoes back like a faded whisper.
De javu a popped-ballon of I-cannot-remember.
Yesterday a quiet joke I no longer find funny.
No more rainbows in my laughter.
"Do you remember?"
I had to laugh, even chuckle, hell I might have even giggled.
And that's when I realized what the real joke was.
What's that you said?
Clouds of thoughtless cold dampen the air.
A lightless smile hides behind the moisture.
Waiting to give in to tempation
But these clouds,
they refuse me rain.
The monotony of a grey has bored me ou
Swallow PurgatoryCharcoal skeleton and ash marrow
Who has eaten the fire from my bones?
Halo noose and innocence stolen,
but by who?
Demons, and the flames I cannot bare to remember.
The searing heat my only atonement,
for a deed not yet done.
Fire within my own heart.
And if I could not swallow hell,
who would do it for me?
Fucking Chemical WarfareExpression tattooed to skull; a smile creeping upon the face of a cadaver.
Asphyxiated feeling chipping through teeth.
Because beauty is armed with battery acid.
Taste me shattered.
Happiness chiseled into a Refugee.
This is chemical warfare, and you
You Have No Right.
But why me?
It's the heart.
pumping and poun
A Poetic Fuck YouLike god
you play with reality
Twisting and turning it
How I hate your scalpel
dissecting my mind
How I hate the scalpel
gouging my eyes blind.
Stealing my air
satisfies the sadistic side
Then you smile morbidly,
stealing my happiness too.
You reel like Satan
and your mind is wrapped
in the thorns of the corrupt.
Forsaken for what you say
Don't even bother to pray
God doesn't want you.
Tied down in the torture chair
Entrails spilling out everywhere
I'm weak from the loss of blood
Starved from my diet of mud.
That's all you feed me
Mud and rusty nails
You feed me lies
cause my thoughts fail.
Note To SelfTruth is, I don't know anymore.
Every string, unwinding, unweaving.
The unlikely demise of a tapestry.
I'd like to remind you of… well, a lot of things.
And I'm sorry, but there's no theme.
No message to be had.
These are just words.
I am just words.
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More