The silence spits at me like watermelon seeds
pelting my face as I stare into a mini sun
burning my eyes. Darkness envelops the air
like fire in a forest; it ducks and dodges
those pesky streetlamp trees.
The clouds are on the dark side,
trapping the moon behind a watery prison.
The sink faucet drips
wanting to join its brothers in the sky.
I sit, being stuck with spit in my ears
and a white fire in my eyes.
Isn't the way my skin sparkles in the light,
like a diamond that sparkles in the light,
I know how your mortal mind thinks,
and I know your mortal mind thinks:
Yes, the way my skin
sparkles in the light is extraordinary.
In daylight, I'm a disco ball that's hotter
than the sun, but my extraordinary skin
that sparkles in the light
is colder than ice and smoother than marble.
I'm an animated statue of David made of diamond.
It's not about poetry; we should speak only in the dialects of strength! For the sake of goddess dialectic, I shall break into you and steal every thought that hasn't been bolted down. Then I shall sell you back to the bank, once I have done the deed and have refused to mean the monthly payment. Come! Merge into my elbows, foolish one of the dark gray cowl, and be improved by righter angles; structural bone angels with no thoughts of caressing ninety heated degrees and such waxwork diseases. I am the man behind the mirror's scream... and I conceive the caged dreams of the greenest monsters...
The thoughts of mine that haven't been bolted down have been locked away in the deepest corners of my mind. I destroyed the key to that door. You're the man, huh? Well, I don't pay attention to my screaming mirrors.
that post. redface
I should be two, but I got hit by a breasted lightning bolt and am at a loss for a synonym for inspiration despite the research and yearlong cuddling. I'm feeling Frank 'n' Stein, communicating in sign language before the contestants steal all my money - those ******** sparklie sounds need to be corralled back to commercial cell blocks and eat their oats like My Little Pony in Prison. See what I mean, the plasma is rude tonight...you better watch out for my daughter surprised
What have you been cuddling yearlong? eek I'd much rather it if you were one, not two. It's funny you mention Frankenstein because I'm currently reading it for school. I've heard bad things about the teacher, but the books they read are good. Ah, bittersweet times in an English class. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for your daughter ;o
It could be that lacy cotton bras contain the building blocks of the universe, though they do not spring with the ease of beck and conjuring the villagers oft assume I possess. This year has been a wringing--you see, I'm more adept at stomping intellectual grapes harvested from my own vineyards. Four inches from my eyes are the vast tumblers of their cycling. I'm fixing myself like a mixed drink. Perhaps you are correct, that my oneness can only be amplified when paired with a zero.
Ah, fortunate one, I have never read Frankenstein at the source, though I am familiar with a few of its derivative incarnations. The most notable of which were the movie with Robert De Niro and Wil Wheaton in Mr. Stitch. I'll tell you what though, I saw part of a remake made by Lionsgate and you want to stay a million miles away from that one. Random sex, painfully slow pacing, awkward transition from electrical life force to...genetics?
Her body was a jungle
with brown leaves tangled together
in the canopy. She lured me inside,
persuading me to explore her depths.
I followed the vipers rushing up a tree
for safety from the jaguar; it eyed
the creatures while ants swarmed
around its toes. I found myself dangling
with those snakes as I put spiders
all over the spine of the tree.
Then, the snakes wrapped their bodies
around mine, bringing spiders that crawled
along my spine.