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Train Rideyou've been a troublesome train ride or, we have walking from car to car kicking the doors open because that's half the fun but with our heads down, following bulk carpet swirls that do everything but alleviate motion sickness you and i we met up every now and then passing the same seats and catching our eyes on one another as we pressed through the aisle i spent ride after ride with my forehead fallen against the window with my eyes closed with my breath staggered and catching with tears stuck to my eyelashes because you weren't everything iTrain Ride
by ~lyeincatastrophes
Painting PerfectionI guess I could paint the sky wonderful, and put color into open wounds of grazing grass. Backward moments in frayed, feathered heavens, that reflect a twinkling hell. Looking up, you can't really help looking down. Starry moments in weathered skies. Mildew and water stains. I can't help but look at you. So beautifully morphed and sagacious. Sanguine...sanguine...veritas...requitas...oh that both could be so easy. But veri- in all its endings eludes my true meaning. Counterbalanced with an unrestful requi- that seems to never dissipate. Sand isn't all it is. Holy sands, holy beaches, holy waters. Bottled and sold at fair market value becausePainting Perfection
by ~lyeincatastrophes
Hypodermic DemonsI wasn't always afraid of needles, or squeamish in intravenous situations. The first time I remember being hesitant to get a shot was when I was about six, and let my mom go first. It was a small clinic in Seattle for low income families. It was the only clinic I had ever been to. I watched the nurse try to get blood from any available place on my mother's body, but there was just no reachable vein.Hypodermic Demons
A child's mind does strange things, because as a child, one is so intuitive and at the same time so naive that everything one sees is absorbed and processed for 'good' and 'bad'. That moment registered needles for the first time as '
by ~lyeincatastrophes
CatastrophesSit back and watch the delicate curves unwind Into yellow confusion And silent acquiescence Overtakes your yellow thoughts That really speak more in shades of blue Of regret and shame You haven't spoken sincerely in so long That I’m almost afraid of what You may have become underneath your Supercilious intentions And maybe sometimes unintentions Smoky secrets catapulted -Catastrophes
No, trebujeted -
Into superfluous societies and words Formulated by your misinterpreted counterweights That aid in all I believe you to anti-be In your savvy way of talking to m
by ~lyeincatastrophes
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- Favourite movie: The Lion King
- Favourite genre of music: i just like music
- Favourite poet or writer: William Faulkner
- AIM: SatiricalPoetry
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~mjcphotog
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Something sappy and covered in chocolate
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My website: [link]
"My muse is my Goddess, and her mystery is my God."
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Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Misshapes the beauteous form of things:
We murder to dissect. William Wordsworth
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{*We* are the music makers... and *we* are the dreamers of dreams...}
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