she leaned in the wind to consort with the trees;
trod blind foot on moss-bitten rock
the hymn of death thrummed through her body
‘til the thrill of it bloomed bright flames on her cheek
i am
a liar, in all ways
every breath is a
lie
the twinkle in my eye that
only you seem
to be able to find
is
a lie
the fall and rise in my voice
as i screamed for
MO-THER
was a lie;
a lie, a lie, a lie.
(via dirtyprettything)
in the sickly glut of dawn’s first light
you wept to see me so, adorned,
with collar and christ and newfound respect
from the eyes of the villagers,
who watched me genuflect
Strong are my hands, which hold you up,
For in them run the blood of many,
Who loved, as I love…
Those hundreds of thousands of millions
birdie
stuck my nose into his fluffy
acrid-sweet baby-feathered head;
inhaled to burn him straight
into my brain.
I write poems on my thighs
to memorize.
(via papertissue)
what is the point of a body?
she kills me so.
(via oldhollywood)
i want to find the true wood
that which speaks to me
and of me
to the surrounding skies
and battered ground
where the feathered light
is run aground
on tombed buds
waiting to rise again
oh but that i could find that place
so i might finally lay my weary body
down to sleep
i was 7 years old.
here’s a love letter
if i plunged my teeth into an apple
and you breathed in deep
we could be sharing
the joy of this
one apple
IV
neglect the fleeting footfall of the hind
