Work Text
my skin is paperstill i carry you in me.you dig your fingers in, press downagony. don’t remind me.seeping ink that is not ink.fight like it’s the end of the worldcry like it’s otherworldly joywe’re all depraved beings. don’t remind me.i’m a natural talent. i know.from young. i know.
i don’t deserve your mercy
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are you tracing the outline of my facetempting my eye to peek throughhaze, through the crackscould you engulf my throatragged, delirious essencea whisper on my napeshadow at a cornerkeys striking at my earennui notan overtone without a bass if you must diei’ll envy the earth that holds you could you change the waythat i see myself?could you carry me in this breath,take me to a better age?
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on a rainy early hour
many things remind me of you,
there’s not much to see in the distance to.
the sudden
blur. jostling of drops
i renegade a corner
the lone yellowish light
momentarily dissolving into circles,
orbiting their origins like a van gogh painting.
it hurts not to be near you.
it hurts to be this cold.
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alive is silent company.
peace hasn’t struck me in long
but now i have so much to live for.
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i like to think i’m myself sometimes.but i forget. giving the biggest grin i ownas if i’m this carefree all the time.make me happy but you’re merely temporary:a pill dissolving into a diluted dash of euphoria.and when you disappear i morph into a black amorphous non-being.you haven’t seen me unbearably itch for bloodor seen me laugh when people fall and cry.you haven’t seen me plot to take people downor seen me punch a wall till my hands bleed.knock the damn boards down and see a house as it is:cynical
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I love your coldness and I hate your warmth.
I’d rather your blunt force on me
than have me lean towards you in faux fuzziness,
softened queasiness, momentary hypnosis.
I’d rather let the terror rise every time
than let it fade to unfeeling,
than melt into a singular slot in an ice-cold ice tray
and fill myself with frostbite that spreads and amputated mass.
If I were the sun and you the moon
I’d rather let you steal my light than share it.
painlessness does not buy my peace
I don’t want something digestible
I want something to suffer through and to celebrate at the ending.
I could forget myself, where I should run to
so I’m fighting my hardest not to.
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you are a vial for my hunger, a vessel for our blessings.the white fabrics i dress you inturns to silk at your touch, runs down your body like liquid mercury.your hair flows through my hand as smokethe spindle and the wheel of my fingers, they spin it intothe soft tip of a brush, tail of a pure white catbeneath my palms the pores along your skin are soft as pumice.and that haze wraps over your eyes,like the air of steam baths we visitor the melting ash of aged photographs.your breath on mine is a hand reaching to my cheek, to cup it, drunken warmth.i’d adorn you with all the silver coins in my purse—it’s all i have, but it’s all you’re worth.