Red lip stop sign
Do not touch
Do not speak
Gravity drag eyes -- do not see
words
Salt skin, bleeding kisses
burn the edges of my tongue
No one wants to be the subject of another shitty stanza
melodrama
Sincerely,
A Sentimental Child.
But I love the taste of letters dripping from our fingers
The way they stick--
sap
between us.
Each sound evidence of an event
distance cannot steal.
I do not have to speak for you to navigate my mind.
A virus,
move from me to you,
Ending when we understand.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Goodbye Ariadne
The name is Ariadne is still on your lips, but I'm waiting for you to see me. It was summer, and therefore wholly ill-suited to beautiful writing about poetic farewells. Sweaty hands stuck together while they could bear it, but it quickly became far too easy to slip away. The scents of gasoline and grass entwined in a noxious perfume, and I couldn't help but form comparisons. You'll grow anywhere, nourished by anything. I explode. Pour me over you and light a match. We are beautiful.
Before long my home became an island, and I dreamed of you in distant lands. Hovering somewhere between Hades and Helios real memories began to fade. Bitterness dissolved. The knowledge of monsters waiting to be fought still lingered somewhere beneath the surface, but I forgot to include myself. Ariadne: foolish child waving the golden thread just beyond your reach. The misinterpreted promise of salvation still waited for your return.
Winter is a time for goodbyes. Ever the contrary anti-hero, you choose now for rebirth. In your mind the trophy waited, just where you left her. Now that adventures can once more be forced to the background, it is time to reclaim your prize. But the island is a wasteland. Sun-bleached bones of fish, and other unidentified creatures litter the ground that must have once borne feet. Ariadne is gone. Search the land, the sea, the stars-- you'll never find a trace. Lost within the labyrinth she wanders, with a ball of golden thread wound tight around her hands. Come find me, the beast, waiting in her shadow. Complete the quest.
Before long my home became an island, and I dreamed of you in distant lands. Hovering somewhere between Hades and Helios real memories began to fade. Bitterness dissolved. The knowledge of monsters waiting to be fought still lingered somewhere beneath the surface, but I forgot to include myself. Ariadne: foolish child waving the golden thread just beyond your reach. The misinterpreted promise of salvation still waited for your return.
Winter is a time for goodbyes. Ever the contrary anti-hero, you choose now for rebirth. In your mind the trophy waited, just where you left her. Now that adventures can once more be forced to the background, it is time to reclaim your prize. But the island is a wasteland. Sun-bleached bones of fish, and other unidentified creatures litter the ground that must have once borne feet. Ariadne is gone. Search the land, the sea, the stars-- you'll never find a trace. Lost within the labyrinth she wanders, with a ball of golden thread wound tight around her hands. Come find me, the beast, waiting in her shadow. Complete the quest.
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