[x]

she never had eyes as brightshe never had eyes as bright as
cold
or song as clear as
dark
but ever into her starry skies
I withered,
drawn into abysmal depths
by the promise
of a ravaged warmth,
somewhere near the centre.

now,
at the zenith of her autumnal beauty,
I find myself lost;
her brilliant voice
in prosepoetry elegance
shall whisper "I love"
into corroded dark
and tear all of the roadblocks
forcibly
from my mind.

suckleyou pry me open
like a blood orange:
a scrape of sugar on my tongue,
a taste like sunrise.

you take in
the salt and slick and
split
of my thighs,
the pulped tomato
of my heart,

the fabric and
steel bones
of an artificial ribcage

as you unknot
them all.

I draw my first
deep breath
and it smells of citrus
and coitus and
you

lapsedyou've eaten my clairvoyance
and I've nowhere else to turn;

vermin stray like fingers
down my gullet.

"I do not love you"
are five words fit to kill:
I close my teeth over my tongue.

a willow grows aslant a brookthe jumbling of
hymns and hormones,
almond-bitter as the snow,
breaks bottles encased
between her ribs,
trickling down to radius,
ulna.

"every girl's a precious treasure"
(depending on the shape of her
nose)
and
"every girl's a cherished rose"
(depending on the state of her
hymen)

having worth in [n]either, I,
moored among crowflowers
and nettles,
could only let the virgin surf
beat breathlessly against
my stockinged ankles.

I lie
(half-nude in clever
dishabille) as
rigor mortis invades,
bit by bit,
claw and teat.

nothing like the sunit occurs to me
that I do not love you
as much as I should.

your voice is not
musical to me,
is not by far
my favourite sound:
I prefer the skeletal
tones of a harpsichord,
the rustling of the pages
of old books,
the wild clanging
of a projector
winding up its film.

nor do your eyes
hold for me
visions of the stars,
in all their fierce, deranged
intesity: I love the sight
of a massive, gaseous
binary system
more than that of your
primitive lenses.

the touch of your hands
sends me in no quixotic raptures
that the lazy fronds of a lily
or the crushed softness of velvet
could not—
skin is skin, and quite frankly,
I've felt better.

I ha

Sonnet XVIVYou are celestial. I tell you this,
not with the romantic veneration
of a Renaissance stargazer, whose bliss
depends on perfection. The cessation
of his quixotic notions, his fervent
belief in the Harmony of the Spheres,
would end altogether his pure content
with the firmament he's worshipped for years.
No—my ardour is more true, if somewhat
less zealous. My telescope has sought out
your craters, your flirtations with moons—but
I love you dearly still. Even without
his blithe ignorance, I see your beauty.
I love and I know you better than he.

an open letter to depressionsuicide princess,
I think you're half in love with me:
the way that you
follow me about, grab at my ankles
and tighten the veins
around my ribs

would almost endear me to you.
and in a certain masochistic way,
I nearly welcome your knock on my door,
the steady clink of your

instruments of torture—because
who would I be without this
choking disease
to carry around?

but frankly, dear,
you impose rather too much
upon my peace of mind.

it's all well and good
to write the occasional
woe-is-me
poem, to hold you by the hand

on a Saturday afternoon
when I have nothing better to do
than indulge your little caprices—

bu

Londonthe city glows
bright copper, a scandal in
oil colours,
a luminous quivering waste
of fog and smoke.

I feel on my skin
the harsh glare of street lights,
a thick caking of
make-up, the lingering
sting
of a parting kiss.

these streets are a string
of catastrophes,
a bright orgiastic tumbling,
the future glinting red
in a wine glass.

reductionI'll tell the truth:

I am a thief of the
worst persuasion.

if you want honesty,
I don't think that we will
last.

give it one or two
or three years—
years tense with opposing forces
and unusual magic—

and our reaction will be
complete. we will both
go back to our own kinds.

haven't they always defined love
in terms of chemistry?
(opposites attract,
but like dissolves like.)

and here is the confession:
here is why I am odious:
I know this and
I will not withdraw.

here is the electron bridge—here the
anode, cathode, the ill-fated
reactants.

I set this up like dominos;
I wield it lik

stereoscopicsdeath
is but a microcosm,
a cheap cinematic
illusion of
depth.

it is not a
dichotomy, not a
solid black outline
like those in
cartoons.

not everyone
steps like a
skipping stone
directly into its arms.

some murmur
about its edge for years;
some never escape
its grasp.

somnambulancewhen man created
god, I think,
it was in this state of mind:

something ruptured inside of him
and gave rise to bright delusions.

in any case
the murky eyes of god
have imposed themselves
upon my eyelids,

small points of light and pressure
through which my dreams leak.

rudimentsthe world entire
is nothing but
petals

and suddenly I
am the chromium ring in your
tongue

stomachedyou blush and bruise
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs

and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)

if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
or divine

amnestyyour amnesty is drawing to a close
I know what nobody else knows
your liberty is tenuous at best
don't test me, I might...

you're stripped of your title
I'm stripped of my oxygen
faltering and idle
you're in and then out again
nothing fulfilling is filling
the space in my head

noxious and nauseas
you're precious as anything
spilling from ashes
on fire and glistening
done incubating, awaiting
my judgement

your amnesty is drawing to a close
I know what nobody else knows
your liberty is tenuous at best
don't test me, I might snap

if you're racketeering
I'm not volunteering
to clean up your mess this time
it's wise to be fearing
I'm not disap

motionI love you like a
semicolon;
a half-pause in a torrent of
thought

during which life
stutters into being.

I want to take you
in the breathless spaces between
ellipses

where passion builds and shudders
into a trailing afterthought…

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I have two locketsI hold Mercury between my lips
when I kiss you,
your lips (n)e(u)rotic
as stars
sunk in the slime of the sky,
your eyes like the dark musings
of orchids—

(
a ferry slung
from shoulder to shoulder,
a bridge stretched between your hips
cross paths with my fingers
in the expertness of diversion)

and sonnets are ripening
under our emboldened
mouths

sonnet XVI don't believe in constancy of such
a kind as you profess. The certainty
that you affirm cannot cloud reason much;
though vague of soul, I'm clear of faculty.
Your words are always followed by faint doubt:
it takes much more than sophistries to rile
my heart to tremors. Yet, I must be out
with vain insistences: I haven't guile
enough to recognise affection weak
and torpid. Do you think of any kind
of permanence? I wonder: do you seek
to love until such fancy flies from mind,
or 'til the very stars should fly instead
and charnel-houses vomit up their dead?

pantheonI'll believe in god
when he slithers down my throat
and tells me all things

witch trialsthe dense terror and insanity
of a nation froths
upon the streets.

busts made of clay and
ash tremble
and reel forth their eyes
like blind marbles.

they awkwardly gape at
tense, wonderful Salem magic;
a womb of silences.

a woman falls open in
prayer
as she swallows smoke

disintegrationI cannot begin to believe
in a love as strident as this:
the small red stone that was
my god for a year
is reduced to acid and rust.

the bleary pinkness of your
mouth quivers with milky prattle
whilst I, with some ignoble
dignity,
am silently sick of shadows

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little white dresses

by *toxic-nebulae, Oct 28, 2012, 5:39:38 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Songs & Lyrics

I came across a river
foaming at the mouth
with eyes wide and brackish
abnormally drawn out

it's here you were christened
in your dreamish waterbed
storming and whirling
brought to a monstrous head

and it's here you were denied
the cure that you sought
a palliative, I could be
but an antidote, I'm not

so I gazed upon your image
liquid and sublime
breathless and restless
caught inside your mind

and your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your bouquets and halos
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your snowstorms and snow globes

between garish garlands
your visage is icy
your lilies have withered
you're cold and uneasy

I wish I could be there
but you're so uncertain
you're hiding behind
your gauze and your curtains

and little white dresses
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your wishes and padlocks
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your witches and warlocks

and your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your bouquets and halos
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your little white dresses
your snowstorms and snow globes

little white dressesby *toxic-nebulae

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Songs & Lyrics

perhaps about Ophelia or the Lady of Shallot, but I'm not entirely sure.
I just randomly thought of the first two lines and thought that they were rather clever, so I just had to share...