dead-neon-light

Feel bad for feelings, Feel bad for your sex, your politics Your diet, your clothes Everything has a by-product in it, Everything has so much and such. Feel bad for feeling, For being, For taking time For being. Feel bad for saying, "no." "not today, my darling,    Because i am not safe there,       And do not feel safe here, So why go There When Here Is as bad?" Feel bad for needing, For having a warm, empty place And vacuums do not exist Could not exist Here. Feel bad for working For sweating, For smelling bad After working, For clinging to what You've made Because soon it will be taken from you, As all th

my bed never warms. when i climb between those sheets at night, they remain cold, through the hours and the rising sun and the headlights flashing by my window. both sides of the pillow are cold, because my cheek does not bestow any heat to them. i cannot be warmed either, you know this better than anyone. all those nights i clung to you, longing to feel your heat in the ever-winter of my age, and all i did was make you colder. you were slowly freezing at my touch, and never said a word. i've never been sunburnt, the sun goes right through me. the grass beneath my feet is scorched my the magnified light cast by my mirror skin, and as the fro

i let you gnash your teeth, and madly writhe. coiled like a spring, you will lunge at my neck, bestial and hungry for something i have but can't find; and you'll find. i let you constrict me during, and before, and after, i let your blood boil until it foams, i let you rest, and shed, and such. oh wondrous krait, you lie in the reeds, eyes with a film and waiting for sun rolled on one side and curled on yourself, a cursive letter O striped black and white; i won't let you break me. you can try and rend me, soul from the dark meat, grinding scales against skin against bone, you can win, i can give, you won't conq

anticipating, each Monday the weekly apocalypse and sorely disappointed each time; doom passes me over, favouring stronger, sadder flesh, tinged slightly bitter with trite fancies sometimes i am sad i will never know the joys of being stupid irresponsible free, perhaps, with fast cars and fast judgments and fast friendships, fast white periods of pureness, innocence spent touching, lightly now, nothing too stark or too loud, nothing but white swathes of thin clothes and white skin and petite, breathy bruises on each knee, not saying anything that makes sense but makes good fun -- but i realize i am not one of them

and here we are, and so you ask: whose bones are these, these bones stacked up so, on display for all? these bones, beautiful bones, old bones and new bones? bones, bones and more bones? here we are so i say they are my bones, darling and your bones too; the combinatorium merged them into beautiful bone chandeliers, bone throttle bodies, bone thrones bone bones. my plain, normal bones, besides my slightly bent phalanges and olphalanges; your beautiful, strange bones still new and amazing and bright despite exploring them time and time again your fused hinge joints iliac crests of your hips, straining against your skin

speaking in idioglossium, thinking in dithyrambos. my nervous system decays, entering a necrotic state of disuse. it is over, it is useless. i shall never think again, if i have any say; ignorance is bliss, and in this ignorance, surely i have found rapture willingly, i have sacrificed my heart to the tenterhooks we affixed to each wall, with power drills. willingly, i have hung myself from the sternum, suspended until my ribcage shatters and i am thrown to the floor dried up but happy. let me be meat, attached to these hooks, the cilia of my desire and the roborant to my ultimate loneliness. let me slip out of conscious

you have bruised me to my core. in the silence of my midnights the xenon gas you fill me with expands from my mouth, and fills a room; hot, heavy -- i grow used to it, i thrive in it. i become a temperate plant of moderate humidity, so when the windows open at daybreak and the gas is replaced with azure sky, my vacuoles collapse, i become little besides a curtain of hair-proteins and dust. this is not what i thought i'd be. my bones all ache, creaky with the cold winds of summer my nails are brittle, and do not withstand scratching so, here i sit curled like the ourobos, naked and purple with sin and need, i s

10:07 PM "see, he never used to be wrecked. it was after They took his eyes. yeah, for real, snatched them right out of his fuckin' skull like they was gems in an empty cavern. then he was wrecked, yeah, after then. it was like after they took 'em, a few haints or a spectre flew in because he never had the glass ones fitted. they bought em, sure 'nuff, but they were never fitted and they slipped right out when he cried. and a man gon' cry when he ain't see one day when he could the day before.         "and those haints curled up, nice and cozy, real nice inside his sockets and reached inside his brain