|Forgive me if I have a lingering respect for life.|
the stardust tasted bitteri saw your shadow on the wall andthe stardust tasted bitter by MusicIsMyHeartBeat
thought you were out playing pictionary with ghosts
or looking for gold coins in dead grass,
and it reminded me of when we first met and i became
a spaceship that crashed on the way to the moon
and you were the asteroid that orbited my rib-cage.
i still remember the feeling of you carving
out my vertebrae and collecting them like stars,
but not before you had stitched ice in them
so that they wouldn’t burn so brightly.
do you still keep them in jars strung on fine string like how you
string your fresh corpses out on the clothesline to dry?
you once told me your favourite season was winter because
you liked how the frost covered everything and
forced things to change their colours;
i only liked it because the snow looked pretty sparkling in the sunlight,
and it frightened me to think that two people
could live the same thing so differently.
sometimes i wonder if there is a tear in the fabric of the world
and if you created it to find me.
until spring comesi drank the paint dry so that theuntil spring comes by MusicIsMyHeartBeat
garden inside me would be vibrant rainbow.
out of season; out of breath -
i choke on flower seeds.
tell me why the rabbit lives in asphodel meadows
when every day is another casualty
(i will never get used to
white windpipes soaked red).
i used to think the rabbit and i were alike,
but i do not have the resilience
to skip through monochrome fields
full of thistles and pessimist skies.
glue my eyes openfeeble footsteps creak upon my heart’s floorboards -glue my eyes open by MusicIsMyHeartBeat
distant echoes of an affair with naivety.
marooned by mandjet boats,
i gasp for breath beneath euthanised dreams.
and they used to tell me to aim for the stars,
but instead i’ll swallow the sun.
venenum reverie overdoses
melt my empty rib-cage away.
two left feetSpun across lakes of ebony,two left feet by MusicIsMyHeartBeat
midnight stars reflect visions of scathing icicles
caught in the flimsy silk of cobweb dreams draping
from the lanterns of her deepest desires.
And she slips in and out of grace.
Stumbling out of the fire,
she tentatively ballroom dances with frosty ghosts
in time to a requiem of refuge composed by broken reveries.
And the music of creaking wooden floors croon poems of
winter kisses against scars etched into charred flesh.
And then she falls.