VIII.I see the fly martyrs on their silken crossVIII. by FallingAsleepTonight
and I know now who repents.
the hierophantthe orange lights on the poles are smeared against my windowthe hierophant by FallingAsleepTonight
and she is not
is it wrong to be a little drunk, to have the light
stain the walls. paint on night.
are you a man who wants to be strong?
I want to write love poems but all I have are these.
to have you explode in light
it's what I want.
my corona chandelier, freckled constellations
my good friends are dead and alive and I want to
call them back.
my love is stacking tarot cards on her table
and telling fortunes to strangers.
she used to work a booth before I met her
when all my friends were alive and getting high.
there are two voices:
her songs she has never sung
and the drugs who only play the same three notes.
over and over
the four of cups.
nine of swords.
smear the light on top the cards
so we can find them in your deck.
strength and the devil
the empress and the fool.
flowers and angels and love and songs:
you can have my poems and all my wrongs
I'll clean this up I'll pick this up
just tell me that I'm strong.
the homes of my friendsat the first house one of the girls has gone insanethe homes of my friends by FallingAsleepTonight
and only comes back to break things.
at the second the heater is broken and all the pipes have burst.
at the third house there are condoms on the floor and someone
is always crying.
I touch her robe and then put it away, her silk
robe printed with flowers
clothes only feel when they're on somebody.
I can feel it trying to be warm.
her panties huddled on the floor
plastic coke bottle on the desk.
we can play a game if you want
we can play pretend.
let's pretend that you are in this bed and I am not in this bed
with your clothes, cursing and screaming at some impotent god.
I pile the shells of your skin on top of myself.
I shape them into you
though I was never too good at sculpture so I couldn't
get the hair or the hips right
but I think I got all the rest.
I put that robe of yours with the flowers on top so I could take it off
and put it back on and take it off again.
at the first house all the utensils are gone
and the tv
icemy white wings are too heavy to carry just as you promisedice by FallingAsleepTonight
they would be.
massage them from my shoulders,
your rough hands your white skin
my white bones soaking.
is that what we want, water and light?
to be made and remade
and melt like sculptures of ice
my father looks to his wife who looks to her daughter
who looks over to me as I stare at the window
and my hands
you are not going to die I promise
someone will kill you first.
have you met them yet
it might be you that holds me in the morning
kiss me- you'll never be disappointed.
my back against the wall as you hold me.
my white wings are too heavy to carry and my halo would fit better
as a collar
around your neck or
maybe your wrists.
has anyone ever told you just how good you look in gold?
I'm sure they have
when I'm outside the fog is cold
and it's good to be cold
so I do not melt and the dew crystals
drip from my halo.
what I want to be is what you said I could be
and not some cheap imitation of glass
the light from my clear eye
20, Oregonian, college student studying nothing close to poetry.|
Note me if you'd like to talk, because I like to talk.
None of my work may be used without my permission. I'm pretty lenient on what it can be used for however, so just be sure to contact me first.