Twitter is a free social messaging utility for staying connected in real-time.
JavaScript is required for this module to display correctly.
All the Colours by =Aconitum-Napellus
On Recursive ThoughtsThis curve of bone no more thanOn Recursive Thoughts by =Aconitum-Napellus
a whitened hive. Inside,
legs, jointed. How these feet catch
and scratch and cling,
a claw in each synapse,
a voice for each and every touch.
A why and why again.
A gauze of wings, held up,
a gauze before my eyes, a misted world,
those stick-dry veins blurred and close.
Somewhere the scent of venom,
the sharpness caught behind my skull.
Each needle-sting a thought and thought again,
a layering up, another string of words,
another cascade of loosened thoughts, a buzz
of voices with their tired whys.
One day I may open this hive-mouth
and watch the exodus go by.

Something of BreathingWho caresSomething of Breathing by =Aconitum-Napellus
about your arms,
elbows and knees,
cartilage screaming, worn
down to ghost slivers, lodging
there in your joints? Even
this silence has a hiss to it.
Even the air presses down, soft,
a pillow on your mouth.
Asphyxiation happens slowly,
breath by breath, when you
are alone. Who cares? This
is not about connection.
You are not elastic. You will
take in each swallow of air,
day by day. You will move,
spider-limbed, exoskeleton imagined
in bands. You could make a cage
to keep your wrists, your fingers,
to hold your neck a column, to make
a statue to hold your lungs. You should
make something gold, soft, curved claws
to keep you rigid, s
Twitter is a free social messaging utility for staying connected in real-time.
JavaScript is required for this module to display correctly.
|
70%
20%
10%
|
