Hallucinogen typeface, in EHRHARDT--
insect wings chitinous clatters stripe my
nervous glazed-over shutters. In left ear,
frantic pulling off carapace mirrors.
"Do not swipe at the minute functions," old
scolding, developmental arguments
crunch certainty crawling along [my spine]
or above; nesting withered carcasses
incandescent baked, to shake from my hair.
Lash slack!
Catch rat packs dragging flak 'cross wide
Gasps downward tunnel-flare cracks, raising
High
Stakes dilates luck through
Which pumping fists rip void-iris blooms
Enough red veins
Heel clicks pierce tea-confection dreams.
Hermes' moths milk chloroform cocks
Molests
Thrust-hole x-skets franc-homophobe crests.
Born in drag. Prisons. Cries.
Slash
LACK!
Swarms of artillery gangster rats
Spitting
Up their shit.
Crown jewels, would-be king-
Alex bends over to attain her stature.
Zues licks the drips off her soiled pink lips.
PRICK!
Martyr
Ripped tissue tricks.
Black-blue, red and brown,
Clear white d
Oh deficit, sharp/dull thrum:
decay my neurology, the myelin and
axial fiber, risen like a karmic snake;
deafening palpations while constricts
faze-out reactioning and survival instincts.
Recall [or not] pointed conversing about
Kahlbaum on capsules of realities and
youth locking themselves in closets, with
cigarette lit, you then said in closing:
goals were indigestible without intrinsic factor.
Test tubes filled will hydraulic serum
lack perspective the same as scalpels and
self-surgery articles on the internet when
reports blame intent and self-discipline
in place of dysfunctional gastros.
cuffed invaders query
why: impetigo
desert-scorched children,
play damp in clay
blithely flinging mud-pies
at clean-coats
wielding-injectables and
shells, gesture
away toward high-rollers
simultaneous combustion,
the neighbors' protest;
boy presses his chest running
like in training- plucks the wire
close-eyed,
canon vestiged.
Is a convenient veil of innocence
still fed by heart-strings, yearning
a necessity for everything
intimate in green.
Is a self-assembled wide-eye leaving
no fragment or excess lost,
the sublime caught naturally at
50mm.
Is the weight of animal instinct contra
supreme insight and question --
as if caste were not determined
at birth.
Is, a word too specifying and exact
in any language spoken
to be relatable, only - like
Is - but unique.
There's a scarecrow in my head -
fill it with organ grinds and
left over canned human,
give it that authentic lived-in smell.
Dance on command of
flickering sometimes-vowel slurs,
manically mindless muppet;
crossing t's is strangulation.
Pins and darts animate
vicarious viscerals vilified
speaking tongues hex-a-gon-all-y
envious of suffering stuffing.
conversation about where by Cherubic-Defect, literature
Literature
conversation about where
Where must we place ourselves within the scaffold?
(Again, what is truth?)
A tired plodding through overgrown trails
(Continue to stray tempted through thickening fog)
showing signs of trespass and entry forced
(or away into billions of misleading lights)
beckoning toward nothing with promise of all.
(both blind breath and suffocate sight.)
Topic:
If a soul is born with no one around
in silent forests, in windswept boughs,
in structures not erected up from the ground,
can it be validated - (and how?)
Hallucinogen typeface, in EHRHARDT--
insect wings chitinous clatters stripe my
nervous glazed-over shutters. In left ear,
frantic pulling off carapace mirrors.
"Do not swipe at the minute functions," old
scolding, developmental arguments
crunch certainty crawling along [my spine]
or above; nesting withered carcasses
incandescent baked, to shake from my hair.
Lash slack!
Catch rat packs dragging flak 'cross wide
Gasps downward tunnel-flare cracks, raising
High
Stakes dilates luck through
Which pumping fists rip void-iris blooms
Enough red veins
Heel clicks pierce tea-confection dreams.
Hermes' moths milk chloroform cocks
Molests
Thrust-hole x-skets franc-homophobe crests.
Born in drag. Prisons. Cries.
Slash
LACK!
Swarms of artillery gangster rats
Spitting
Up their shit.
Crown jewels, would-be king-
Alex bends over to attain her stature.
Zues licks the drips off her soiled pink lips.
PRICK!
Martyr
Ripped tissue tricks.
Black-blue, red and brown,
Clear white d
cuffed invaders query
why: impetigo
desert-scorched children,
play damp in clay
blithely flinging mud-pies
at clean-coats
wielding-injectables and
shells, gesture
away toward high-rollers
simultaneous combustion,
the neighbors' protest;
boy presses his chest running
like in training- plucks the wire
close-eyed,
canon vestiged.
Is a convenient veil of innocence
still fed by heart-strings, yearning
a necessity for everything
intimate in green.
Is a self-assembled wide-eye leaving
no fragment or excess lost,
the sublime caught naturally at
50mm.
Is the weight of animal instinct contra
supreme insight and question --
as if caste were not determined
at birth.
Is, a word too specifying and exact
in any language spoken
to be relatable, only - like
Is - but unique.
There's a scarecrow in my head -
fill it with organ grinds and
left over canned human,
give it that authentic lived-in smell.
Dance on command of
flickering sometimes-vowel slurs,
manically mindless muppet;
crossing t's is strangulation.
Pins and darts animate
vicarious viscerals vilified
speaking tongues hex-a-gon-all-y
envious of suffering stuffing.
conversation about where by Cherubic-Defect, literature
Literature
conversation about where
Where must we place ourselves within the scaffold?
(Again, what is truth?)
A tired plodding through overgrown trails
(Continue to stray tempted through thickening fog)
showing signs of trespass and entry forced
(or away into billions of misleading lights)
beckoning toward nothing with promise of all.
(both blind breath and suffocate sight.)
Topic:
If a soul is born with no one around
in silent forests, in windswept boughs,
in structures not erected up from the ground,
can it be validated - (and how?)
lightswitch spiritualism by Cherubic-Defect, literature
Literature
lightswitch spiritualism
The lightswitch could help me transcend,
perhaps deeper into why mortality catches
my astral form each time I plunge
[Off:]
Graceful, I grope at shadows anxious to be seen,
they whisper melancholy in the form of obscure shapes
scrawling patterns across my skin, rising to meet their touch.
The abstract comfort of not needing to understand, or witness
as altered perception will be accepted as reality
eventually.
- unless -
[On:]
Stunning how I love color expressing itself mundanely
like a desk chair or a painted wall
presenting obstacles, or are they at my disposal?
One hemisphere sleeps while the other
Unhappiness like falling rain,
leaning to the windowsill
with a smile.
Original like erasers,
wearing away memories of you
on wet pavement.
Threadbare like letters
written on my shirtsleeve
in lieu of bar napkins.
Cliché like Linda Hutcheon;
just a hack who pissed a lot of people off.
falling in love with icarus by archelyxs, literature
Literature
falling in love with icarus
Ne ġelæd þū ūs on costnunge, ac ālys ūs of yfele.
Sōþlīċe.
.
Fear is the siege
that cultivates caesurae and crusades,
books of hours,
works of days.
Listen to me speak of codices and scrolls,
listen to me speak of revelations and mistakes;
they converge.
As a child I would run away
to the farmer's market
and return home with arms full
of copper, chrome, and arsenic.
We would walk the dusk
'til night returned in wax and railway tracks.
You we
A Brief History of Time by AzizrianDaoXrak, literature
Literature
A Brief History of Time
I.
We live again
and must learn the names we have been given.
And oh, the caged bird carries the wind in her lungs.
She is a body of calm thunder.
II.
Beloved, Beloved
I am born
with the sweet clay of Virginia in my eyes,
the bones of old Ireland in my flesh.
I am myself incarnate.
Opening a new mouth I
speak.
III.
Solomon's wife
catches the birds in flight.
Oh, that man carries the wind in his lungs,
she says,
in his lungs and under his wings.
Our drums are our thighs,
the soles of our feet against the earth,
the thick pounding rivers that rush through our veins.
IV.
We are
ripe
apples.
Motherfather Time sits
Smoke Stack!
A sack of black rabbits- 'cause I
Tried to shove that plunger in the hole, but it
Stuck,
And halfway up my arm
I lost the tricks in my tourniquet,
Sleeves transparent-
Plaid backpack full of glass daggers.
Mercury's hatters hate blood spattered
Pricks
Without a temperature messenger for the rust mix.
Born in jail. Ruins. Flies.
Smoke
STACK!
Solid brick of sugar-white rabbits
Choking
On their shit.
Junk fixture, "drink me" tincture-
mAlice follows this cookin' glass practice.
Jupiter spits in the face of her insane God.
SICK!
Sacrifice
Her split fix.
The powder vaporizes,
And smoke stacks clipped lips
Then
Bite the moon tide salt swig manatee.
Snort demigod through paper-mâché escorts.
Lap oranges from the dog fountain.
Lick dog oranges at the lap fountain.
Piecemeal, eat rape-worms fidgeting in a bag.
See, through eyes that ripple
Like oil writhing with fire ants,
A child stripped to wires,
Engulfed in mites and spiders.
Stand in the bathtub with your mangled child,
Primal with the toils of your yet entangled aural strings
Blistering from all his cries to boil the decay inside,
And hope that all the moisture only helps the worm become a fly.
Like fork-fucking a violate mixtape,
Break the blood-brain barrier with whisper
endings are beginnings
beginnings are the author's notes;
o-
infection cracks open instant
as bookmarks as bark
bandaids applied, or not
and autiobiographies always lead this way
unless pageworn secrets
promp plagurizing
plain under the dustcover.
Stretched expanses of honest living,
abandoned crop circles;
superterrestrial scythe-work
alight a les yeux-- one
hundred concrete visionaries
anonynumerically asphyxiated
unto the common keystroke;
cached wellspring of the extraphysical
an innocent canvas for a hard-wired Nirvana.
Wonderful lookings! I'm the most not-commented upon interview in the history of allartsupport . I appreciate the editing and work you put into it . It was fun too