[x]

another fix, pleasethat feeling of relief
in darkened days –

remembering once
with hollow eyes and broken gazes,
floods my skin like taut stares,
uncomfortable –
the key snapping blurry worlds
into focus.

I dissolve, scars upon scars,
building tales of months
forgotten and
pain bleeding outside borders –
only blissful addiction.

[ breathing monitored,
as watched as I am – ]
confusion, hazy like counting
backwards

for that feeling in freedom,
for waiting.

perfection comes in blood
and agony, for searching
out hungry addiction.

watch –

addiction, hungry,
out searching for agony
and blood.

in comes perfection,
w

they can't be takentheir bleach skin caught my eye
albino white against the wild
hair like bright sky electric in the briars

haloed sister gods shot down like fawn

lukewarmshe had the kind of voice
that seemed to be stuck
in the hour of four o'clock
in the morning - soft
and tired and luring,
mumbling her way through
subways and tunnel lights
all pale yellow with noise.

there was tea and long baths
and longer absences,
hiccups of breath
the best
she could do.
long springs and
longer falls,
one equinox to the next
and still the bad
was never that bad
and the good
was never that
good,
and she continues to hum
the birds continue to sing
the apples continue to
grow and
sour and
fall,

and bury themselves
again.

scar-crossed(my fingers are colder than the solemn blue
buried in her eyes. so much dead beauty,

like an ocean without waves).

she is fading and i cling to her,
and in this tiny little moment
between breaths

we barely even exist.

WordsmithsHow long did you think
we could pound our vocabulary with hammers
before it fell flat?

writer's blockstranded on an island scantily
dressed in moonlight, you stare
at roiling water resembling a
horizon of interweaving words

but when you lift your right hand,
spirals of silence shackle
the weightless sounds

The Jailori.

the room smelled of paint and chocolate;
a stain that won’t wash out no matter how vigorously you grate,
no matter how deeply you peel.

ii.

“Mothers never cry when their boys run towards large army tanks, and fishermen never weep when they return home with nothing.” These were my forced whispers in her ear.

iii.

ticking antiques and wooden furnishing,
a land flowing with silk and money.
it was no consolation.
pain still trickled through.

iv.

I told her that I don’t kiss women on the mouth, and by day I left her to her own thoughts. That’s when she finally listened and stopped her c

blue and gold are not just colorsshe had been blue-sighted
since
dawn cracked her forehead.
it was the dress she wore on his funeral
the color of her school flag
the shine in her father's eyes;
she waited in blue and gold.

no, she refused to set a bar
because
life didn't just come to her.
she earned her place
in her mother's womb
when each blood vessel questioned her
each nerve ending, if she could live
and each antibody, if she was worth it.

see, she doesn't need new dresses.
she has a memory
for each of hers in her locked closet.
she may not wear all of them
(and most she cringes at the sight of)
but her heart
jumps enough
every time bits of her old

fireworksten thousand stars blaze
in fleeting existence
ash falls to the ground

overflowi tried to show you
all the broken bones
in the cupboard

all the cobwebs
underneath the staircase

all the schisms
and chasms
and chinks in my
a(r)mour

but
your finger touched my lips
in a curious sort of way
and you said
shh, darling,
don't say a word

none of that matters
anymore

so i tried
to shut away the
ghosts
but now they're out
and about
and coming for me

and i can't escape them
with my heart so chipped
and faded.

Hollow Memory of a Distant ShoreYou are like a long passed season.
As delicate as the footprints of sparrows in freshly fallen snow.
Intricate, yet so easily disturbed when care is not taken.
Somehow, you have managed to persist after all these years.
Residing in the same quiet place you carved into the woods so long ago..
Only a short ride from the sea.

When you cross my mind, you carry with you the scent of that shoreline.
Harsh and thick, yet somehow placating.
Though the weather was perpetually gray, misty, and cold.
Much like your heart had become..
Just before we painfully, and slowly, parted ways.

I recall with deep longing your fascination with foxes

To believe in somethingi’m drowning on the pavement
and all the voices are repeating over and over and over again
words i can’t make out
i wanted to be something beautiful
but my cells can only perform mechanical operations
no stars supernovas oceans exist in me
and the moon is like a hard knot in the sky
bleeding ichor on his other side
the sun flashes hot cancerous light blinding
and i am blind nonexistent in the daylight
invisible refracting the world around me
repeating over and over and over again
hard drum beats and tangled roots that reach out
rhythmic dying in the cold winter sun
god
oh god, i wanted to believe in something

starspunobserving the romanticism
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.

you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
you watched
all my pick up lines
drop things.

we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
of starlight,

pretended
that two teens at the park
at midnight
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)

your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
in thoughtful
paths.

i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.

i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
stars

Stephanie - Collab(I wrote us in free verse over every inch
of your tattered surface ).

you were the beatific grin
of a kindergartener high off oxygen,
mouth stretched wide as the entrance to hell,
black tongue bleeding virtuous sin like ichor.

(You taught me praying was for the weak
as I fell for your gypsum nails,
white teeth scrabbling over my chalkboard frame).

scribbled flesh tells no love story
but three layers of skin
worn thin along the length of our feverish bones.

(Garden flowers tucked away worms and dirt,
my ribs hoarded misspellings of my mother's name).

dipping your origami limbs into my ink

wrists that roarmama says
pull down your sleeves
they'll see, they'll see
but no-one's even looking

i say mama
tigers are proud and strong
and tigers show their stripes
so today i'm a tiger

and who says
i can't be a tiger
when razors made me fierce
and secrets kept me lonely

who says
i can't tiger-roar
when everything unsaid
ripped my throat raw

i made my stripes
with tiger-claws and tiger-teeth
so damned if i'm not a tiger
and damned if i won't roar

mama, i'm a tiger
mama, hear me roar

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She weeps sandcastles and breathes poetryHe arrived at a quarter of one in a taxicab outside of her New York City apartment. The door was being held open for him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to go inside.

She was in front of her vanity, combing her hair. Funny enough, he had given her the comb for their second wedding anniversary. She had rid herself of everything else after he died. (Or so they thought.)

He stood outside the building, running his fingers through his hair. He looked up at the building before turning around and walking towards the street.

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Spending far too much time in the music room.

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A dreamer
Who hums to himself while his eyes float across the page.

He is real-
But I don't even know his name.

And I am already infatuated.

The FenceHe came over to my fence every afternoon. Sometimes I would be playing in the yard, and other days I would see him through the window. I would reach up to unlock the door and run out to the fence. We would sit, he on his side and me on mine. We pulled grass and flowers, get dirt on our scabby knees, and catch bugs. Talking through the fence, enjoying the simplicity of being eight, but we wanting to grow up so badly. We would play until my mother came to the door and told me to come in and clean up. I would wave goodbye and run inside to wash the mud out of my clothes. And I knew that I would see him at my fence again tomorrow.

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Persephone

by ~xthe-eleanorx, Sep 16, 2012, 5:58:59 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I fed her
pomegranate kisses

and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.

With cracks in my heart
and souls
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.

Persephoneby ~xthe-eleanorx

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~xthe-eleanorx

^{DLD- 10/11/12

In which the author writes about mythology and gross, disgusting love.

Written for 's Inner Divinity Contest.

For those of you who don't know, Hades/Pluto is the Greek/Roman deity of the Underworld. He kidnapped Persephone and brought her to his home where she ate four pomegranate seeds. According to the Fates, one who eats the food of Underworld must spend eternity there, but Persephone was allowed to return to her mother for half of the year, corresponding to the spring/summer months.}

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=LadyofGaerdon May 15, 2013 Professional Writer

Hi! Your piece has been featured as inspiration in #Lit-Visual-Alliance's Spring Alliance Contest article! Please

the article to bring more attention to the features and the contest. Thanks!

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~xthe-eleanorx May 15, 2013 Student Writer

Thanks so much!

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=AzizrianDaoXrak Nov 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is a little note to CONGRATULATE YOU on PLACING FIRST in the #Wordsmiths-Guild Inner Divinity Contest!

Please help support the other winners by faving the official blog post: [link]. I'll also be giving you your winnings and posting your other prizes soon! ^^

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~xthe-eleanorx Nov 8, 2012 Student Writer

Ah! Thank you, thank you!

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=AzizrianDaoXrak Nov 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You're so welcome! You earned it!

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~MemoryInTime Nov 3, 2012

I love its simplicity and how it contrasts the complexity of the context :3

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~xthe-eleanorx Nov 4, 2012 Student Writer

Thanks so much!

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~MemoryInTime Nov 4, 2012

no problem :3

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*disrhythmic Oct 27, 2012

Beautiful. <3

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