poetry

our lady aphasia

.The world is marred with her unending grace

.Her endless masses writhe and curl in awful Delphic symmetry

.To gaze upon her is to come undone

.A mind cannot withstand the violent light of her infinity

.

.Heliocentrism is obsolete

.Her body is the centre of the world as it is understood

.Geography is meaningless through her

.Panopticon and watchtower, presiding twisted bishophood

.

.Disciples, mangled, milk-eyed, bless her form

.Permitted in proximity to all her noxious permutations

.No crawling gaze can taint this sanctity

.The blind are free to bask in her, her depurate creations

.

.To know her psychotomimetic touch

.Is Ego lost in waves of her, dispelled in kismet, one above

.To join in her abhorrent eminence

.The singular irrelevant, revering, sanguine by her love

cockroach

.tardigrades can survive the vacuum of space

.i read that once

.they can be frozen

.or boiled

.or whatever

.the most hostile conditions they can endure

.to the point that some people think they might have come from space

.to begin with

.aliens on earth

.tiny and bear-shaped

.in water

.

.what do they remember of the stars?

.

.cockroaches can survive anything

.cockroaches can survive an apocalypse

.cockroaches will be immune to a poison within generations of exposure

.cockroaches can survive without a head

.apparently

.

.am i a cockroach or

.am i its squirming, soft-shelled larva

.i don't know if i can survive this what can i survive

.how can i tell

.will i survive my whole world

.ending

.or will i be crushed

.under someone's boot?

sunset

.the light filters through the atmosphere, just a bit faster than usual

.by the horizon

.

.the clouds hang above me in the sky, bright cherry pink

.

.as i walk home, the sky bleeds sweet syrup

(camo was not used)

.the day of the chase the custodian breaks his wrist playing discus

.

.on a wednesday, their movement is triumphant infatuation, steeple reaching oblivious and bright like rapture

.

.the hazard of this place is that sometimes the figures forget to breathe

.

.the vault is no longer locked

.the way through is a fallacy, victoria

.the way through is bright

.

.captured on euphoric video, a glassblown camera clicks

untitled #1

.drink dizzy ghost

.before each thought

.but acrid noise

.then small, quiet chaos

untitled #2

.if this place had any class

.memory's quiet companion would push compulsive wounding eve

.into dangerous winter yesterdays

.please promise?

.flesh is everything to them, too

woof

.when i was a teenager i had a habit of swearing fealty

.promising my sword to a girl for her service

.my hands tools to use as she wished

.the desire to serve has always been a part of me

.i didn't know who i was, and she gave me a place

.by her side, at her heel, and she loved me

.that was all i needed, i think

.

.today, my lover tells me to bark and i yip, just quietly

.i am a loyal hound at her knee, and i know my place is there

.i sit quietly, muzzled and bare, and she strokes the top of my head

.this has always been a part of me too

.

.the desire to serve

.to obey

.to heel

.

.i'm just an animal, after all, fundimentally

.when it makes a mistake, nobody hates the dog