we are abberations (unwanted, unloved, undone)
twisted creatures with twisted wings (broken and shattered and filled with rage)
reaching for the sun (come to me, come to me, oh sweet beloved)
but blinded by light (ever turned to you though the skin blisters and bleeds)
crawling clawing squirming (it is our right, our right, our right to feel)
grabbing for flesh and bone and warmth (make us whole, make us complete, make us be)
longing screaming failing to fly (it burns to move, to flutter, our feathers torn)
because the ground is so near (so close, so close, the ground goes splat)
and the sky too high (but never, oh never, never high enough)
We are out of Time.
We are out of Place
out of Space
out of Rhyme.
There is no rhythm to our Vision,
no reason for our Crime.
We float away like Jetsam
upon a river of Brine.
There is no up to our Down
no down to our Ups,
So we fall Sideways in life
as we try to Stand back up.
A distinct lack of noise
There is this moment
right before I open my mouth,
that I wonder why I am
speaking at all.
I’ll look you in the eye
and you’ll gaze right through,
dismiss my words like
a buzzing in your ears.
Then I’ll realize you are still
staring at me
and I have yet you answer
at all.
I ate your soul today.
It tasted a bit like turnips.
So I spit it out
and ate your heart instead.
Behold, the Eye
I don’t want to be desired.
Desired implies I wish to be owned
that I am property
that I need keeping.
I want to be admired,
like a painting
or a piece of art
And hear them whisper,
‘True beauty
can never be tamed.’
Its me against the world
Me against the wolves
with their gnashing teeth and painted claws
And I, and I a gaping wound across the darkened sky
pinned with their eyes of liquid gold
And through the smoke is the blood red sun
casting shadows upon everyone
And the battlefield is bathed in a crimson sheen
as the clanging of steel is raised in symphony
through the smoke, through the ash, through the arrow piecred side
and through the dead that will never rise
a bitter crescendo is reached
where iron and flesh do meet
(Source: effingbirds)
Untitled
There was Fire in his eyes
and a Burning in his throat
As the Flame flickered
and writhed
and twisted
and yearned
filling every corner of his being
with blistering Heat.
Then he exhales,
and there was only Ash.
i dont care if your heart was tattered and torn
stand fast
stand strong
you have the building blocks all along
