Breaking SupernovaHe bleeds nebulae from quasar veins.
Apocalypsei remember when you took my hand andslipped me into a world alonei shake the gravity from my hair and dipinto the shadow of baking clouds andinverted meteor showersa creamy apricot sunset surfs overstill-silenced flesh and quenches quellsthem before erasing them from existencewe're sunken like the houses in which wecreep, bracing the hearth against fading spiritswe're sunken but we rise againstyour world is swooped into a nightshade ofwoodblock and still-silencemouths are wrenched open a maw, a void andeverything is thrown into a juggernaut of grit
sleep.the boy with the kaleidoscope handsoffers me a revolver and we take turnssmothering plumes of breath and killinglapselands.bags of grieving skeletons hang from yourcliff eyes, dreading the momentwhen they will have to fly.
Freedom DriftAtlas collapses;crushedby newfound freedom
Farewelli.i'm surprised at how easily i can break youand leave you in the wreckage of midnightconstellations and dead starsii.and your shadow crosses minei admire your daring, although i told youto leave me before you burn upwe've yet to lose sight, but the distance isenoughiii.don't forget, i'm close behindand i'll never let you go even if theworld detonates into a stew ofdisembodied dreams and starlit memoriesiv.forgive me;i'm still learning how to lovesomething forbiddentake care, i'll miss you
Wispwords and Winewaterthe letter made it much easier to(a)scribe the blame to youyou spoke of drowning the earth inside-outto expose the bitter, frigid corefor what it really is.when i read the wispwordsi prickle like i'm suffocatingon deathair andigniting through winewater.i grasp at my throat and stranglethe syllables that slip downand sear through beforei can justify the truth.i am not as strong or as shatterproofas i was built, nor am i a hero. because wheneveryou speak/scribeichokeand choke.
night breath collisioni knew that we weren't meantto last forever. we'd firedshots at the bulletproof sun.i ignored the others forpulses, strobes, and light,palming a smoky sky in a cold,cold world alone.we are the fringe on aleather-bound romancepoised above a soul sea frozenin a filthy sheen.i was the one who keptmyself hidden in newspaper;you were the one whodestroyed the world.your words fell like bruises;exhilarating pain stabs andscissors across my jaggedearlobes and into the leaking earth.i think we've bothdone enough.
we're alone.i want to drive pulsesinto your fractured ribcage,make my words resonatein your hollow vessels;heavy enough to sink eventhe sturdiest of ships.(and we both know you can't float.)but inject me into yourchoking streams, and i'll gladly showyou the meaning of 'alone'.
our atoms were once starsthese weary atoms are constantlywreathed into genetic ornaments andrecycled from human to human.i can trace my veins off into the brazencustody of our prescribed atmosphere.bring me to where the world endsand the horizon collides with the heavens,because i'd like to recreate myself intosomething new.or at least fade among the hydrogenfurnaces, returning to a cosmic cradle.
Moving On.It is time to say, "Was."
For ScienceBrought toaster to bathtub.Shocking results.
binge eatingi have a buildupof black holessuffocating my arteries,having swallowed downthe bitter taste of too manygirls with galaxies travelingthe length of their spines.i ate them in mouthfuls,gaping & sad like a bingereaching for the skies-unable to hold them all in.i don’t think the universeis as vast& wondrousas it used to be,thrivingbetween theintercostal spacesof my ribs;i am hungry.& with a collectionof moon sighsas a reminderin my pockets,i will just have to learnhow to calm this swollenindigo pulse while eating.
she's a 49ershe’s a 49er“you know I hate crying, ricky.”i know you do. i know. But…it helps.sometimes.“i’m too tired to cry anymore, rick.”breath escapes my lips and my head falls.i can’t help my sister with this…fuck.our hearts are burdened.we’re two southern children,with old souls,49ers not on the west coast,and searching for diamonds,as we filter through the rough.i don’t know what she goes through,but I can listen to her.i can be her ear to hear her vent.i can be her robin to her batman.how can a girl not even 5’5’’ be batman, you ask?easy.she’s a cloaked hero whose main super power,is the power of her will.while she may keep some things close to her chest,and under her sleeve,i’ll always be by her side.and the gray-son became the dark onein nightwing.batman touched him more than you noticed.dick graysonwas a human vigilante after he graduated.and she affects m
.you are dead and buriedsix feet under yourself,still feeling the way you didwhen you were seventeenand when you bathe, you stillkeep your head under thewater, wrists upturned, redeyes open, trying to drown yourselfout
ChrysanthemumChrysanthemum Last night, I dreamt of us.We were together on a mountaintop,I was sitting on the edge,With my legs dangling above the bottomless pit,With a lone, white chrysanthemum in my hand as I pull the petals from the stem.While you were standing above me, looking on, languidly,None of us wanting to say anything,My own mental battle sewing my lips to one another,Unable to speak,While you were probably trapped within your own mental depths;In my mind, I was debating between venting and jumping,Simply over the fact I didn’t know what that look was in your eyes,But I think that’s probably the point, that we’re no longer of the same kind,Maybe I changed into something I’m unaware of, maybe you were the one to transform,But I don’t get the same feel of what used to be,This is foreign to me,An unapologetic feeling of extreme apathy,And that is the unfortunate reality of this situation,No matter how long
you are what you eatdomine, adiuva mei never wanted thisto happen the way ithappened.it was supposed to be soclean-cut;i was supposed to be gone beforethey evennoticed.cunabula methere wasscreaming and shoutingand vomit andoh-my-godwhere are my fingers?my vision is so blurry,ice cold water rising up,touching my chin.i do not rememberhow i got here.i do not rememberi do not rememberi do not remember when ivomited upon my body,nor when i was lainnaked.diligo mihithere was an openbottle of pain meds when shewalked through the door.three little white pillslined up,the rest missing from theirplastic jail.where are the pills, she asked.where are the rest?she found her baby in the bedroom,lying face downin her own vomit.she found the pills.interficiet mei was not sorry untili woke up the next day,vomiting up bloodand my own guts, and mysister called mecrying.i was not sorry untilshe sobbed, "i was so worriedabout
to myself.i'm happy,i tell myself when i get in my freezing car,almost running late forclass. i'll be okay,is what i whisper to myselfduring the middle of a test. nobodyknows all the answers, right?it gets better.that's what i'm going to saythe next timei see someone withscars.
because i'm like a relapse (of you or youth)baby blues cannot cure suicide agendas.all these poets do is wither, wither,waste - decomposing bones justenough to trade them in forwords & kill themcell bycell &conversations bloom between my tongue &teeth or two choice vertebrae; thoughtsburst like blood vessels,like self disgust(i am more catatonicthan i am catastrophic).
Six Word Story: SilenceI've never known a louder silence.
If Love is an OceanDrown me. I dare you to.
Bright lightsThe brighter lightsmean darker shadows
.all we are is cheapmetaphorsgoldfish drowning inthe ocean, birds that forget how toflap their wings, mid-flight
Memento OblivisciI remembered to forget you today.
A Sip of Alzheimer'sHe only forgot how to remember.
Story Time“Tell me a beautiful story.”“You.” © L. L. Kelly 2013
Promises"Thank you.""For what?""Not leaving."
Cemeterialoh, i am the princeof executions & theatrics,heaven-sent -a martyr breathingselenic steam &barking at necropolis
A Galaxy SighsShe exhales sky from her lungs.
I really like this one!! Itīs short but meaningful! Great job!
(Had no idea it was from you when I read it lol Hello neighbor )