the valleythe only thing I've learned from my mistakesthe valley by FallingAsleepTonight
is how to ask forgiveness.
the sun throwing itself over the hills
I haven't decided yet if this whole damned place
is made with evil
or maybe it's just me
weak and drunk and discussing poetry in the sun
that sun and the hills
my old friend chain smokes and clears his throat
he recites his truth between the hills.
in the shade
the crimson sun of his cigarette and the golden sun of my rum.
a pair of small children come down the trail and he hides the pack
of cigarettes between his legs.
who are you trying to save?
somewhere I know my mistakes are crying and coming together.
putting on human clothes and coming
over the hills and down the trail
out of the earth.
their hands outstretched
the sun in my throat.
nirvanawhen I am reincarnated I hope to come back as myself.nirvana by FallingAsleepTonight
do not bury me
do not place a cigarette or something else in my hand when I am gone
and say that I wanted this.
do not give me wings like the other dragonflies and angels
put me back in this body that coughs and spits
and loves as recklessly as it writes.
do not give me dog-legs or dog-love.
give me back my lungs my liver my heart
as blackened as they may be.
leave me in a tub of ice and do not close my eyes.
I will close my gaping mouth myself in time, close myself up
climb from the ice and wrap a towel around my waist.
my old life soaking the earth, my new life dripping in.
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.
21, 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.