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CryptidAnimalsCryptid by ~neonbleach
get the short end of the stick, I think,
what with all these metaphors about monsters,
depraved and enraged,
clawing their way out of the
stomach lining, the
collapsed heart scaffolding, the
twisted mental labyrinths
of all these liberated poets.
AlightRead thisAlight by ~neonbleach
in the old chair you hid in the attic because it's falling apart and you couldn't
throw it away,
on your bed or couch or front porch or back porch or a curb in San Jose or the edge of a cliff,
read it with a glass of something freezing or a mug of something scalding or a bottle of the combination of both.
I am shredding my fingers, shredding my lips, shredding the left side of my tongue, and always it comes in threes, and yes, there's a voice in my head, but no, it's not yours, and no, I didn't mean you.
But don't let me digress, because I'll tell you the full-length epic of how I've ground down my teeth from all this shredd
HonestyWriting myself to you on scraps of paperHonesty by ~neonbleach
torn from the margins of my best notebooks
for the first time, I don't want to stop myself. I want to confess to last year's back alleys
and to the ghosts in the hallway late at night
I want to walk away, so that twelve years from now, I can sit on a rooftop somewhere
not knowing which direction points to you,
and know that I'm probably not looking at the same stars. (Nobody wants this tattered sky, anyway.)
I'll be convinced that you've made a home for yourself(from the splinters of the one you tore down).
I want to have a resolution;
after the beginning and the middle
I want to be tangibl
Arachnids and TaxidermyMy hands shake as this house endures me, endures the fumes that I cannot live without. My heart jumps as it tries to run me out, as sudden movements give birth to the most inhumane of noises and artificial eyes all tell me the same inhumane artificial thing.Arachnids and Taxidermy by ~neonbleach
The words are starting to get to me, your unreal but so, so convincing shapes are promising me that I must be doing something.
Something, wrong and important and damaging, but something so unforgettably good.
And through this war, I’m glad, I’m glad you’re not here and that I am alone and that you are not. You should forget, deserve to forget.
Sta.sh
