~darkenedserenity
Victoria
Newest
lovesongthere is a shelovesong
who is not me
taking up space in your place when i'm not filling in on the left side of the bed
because in your head,
being on the right
can endlessly justify even what's done
in the heat of the wrong
and in the lovesong of your throes,
it is her spine on the other end of your fingers
gentle breaths and moans
and,
in the twilight,
a flash of my face against her body.
by ~darkenedserenity
kinetic lustHonest drops of Tuesday nightkinetic lust
(what few there were)
drained into electric puddles
of coffee and midnight.
Mournful whistles of
molecules
. (and coffee pots)
alive, ready,
waiting rang teasingly between the walls,
dancing in their own
kinetic waltz
of lust and touch.
All that humming in the thick warmth of 12 o'something
was less than love
but more than just the coffee.
. (Black with one sugar. No milk. No exceptions.)
He was only 1.2 feet away from her
but in the barren wasteland of human want
by ~darkenedserenity
Emotive EmbersLumping another hand-written chapter into requite and forget, I'm casting your flowered propositionsEmotive Embers
into a new role by sending them up as charred fingers that fade away with touch.
Nights of diving into you and rising up in a blaze of rebirth, then waking to your gentle sobs and velcro
are swallowed by Prometheus's greedy gift;
flaming feathers:
Hiding one hand in its pocket, grinning like a drunken cheshire
and waving like a Russian flag
caught in a storm, you almost
outglow the orange and yellow dancers seducing your half of
by ~darkenedserenity
Favourites
i loved that you were a storyi loved your stories; i loved that you were a story, because i could read that book a thousand times, and it would still smell new each time i broke it's spine.i loved that you were a story
i wrapped my own words around the margins, until every empty inch was inked-in. i wrote my own footnotes for each reference i didn't understand, until i didn't know which was of my own hand.
i'd try and read it from right-to-left which left me more-or-less in quite a mess. i discussed it with barthes, and he said it made complete sense (in context) inside a house we built which was
by ~0rchid
every story i've never toldi want to write with a brush, finely inked, all down your spine and around each ridgeevery story i've never told
all the thoughts upon you i think in carefully creeping cursive script
each word's caress will smudge when kissed, and transfer onto lesser lips
which being lesser, would be fain to never part, or speak again
and if ever i should be so bold, you'd be the seam of every story i've never told
by ~0rchid
awakeningby ~bittertaste
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: England/Seattle
- Interests: Criminology, Philosophy, serial killings
- Favourite movie: Pay it forward, Gia, Talk to her,
- Favourite band or musician: Opeth, Cure
- Favourite genre of music: Black Metal
- Favourite artist: Giger
- Skin of choice: pale and untouched
- Personal Quote: There are wounds so deep, no one can touch them or heal them with words.
- Tools of the Trade: moments of recollection
- Email: darkenedserenity@hotmail.com
- AIM: darkserenity187
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Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
--
quod me nutrit me destruit
--
" and maybe you can keep me from ever being happy, but you're not going to stop me from having fun"--ani difranco
You read me.
And darling, I am meant to be read.
<33
--
"The charging restless mute unvoiced road keening in a seizure of tarpaulin power."
-jack kerouac
--
Suture Self
--
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