drabbles

NSFW and SFW writing. Prose and poetry.

[actaeonize-blog]

years you've spent; inky dark, pallid face-- and still, that smile-- hooded eyes, and veins spread like tree branches-- the way the light hits your nose just so... so little time affixed to the crucifix, and how fast you took-- not just it off, your cross-- from me years spent, still thinking. still listening to these songs, still trying to survive-- a leech is not deplorable in its biological needs-- what i wanted so bad was that feeling, reciprocal-- maybe just once.

[actaeonize-blog]

fucked up-- twitching-- did you think this was going to be you? load the hash, pick the bud to pieces you can smoke. your lungs expanded since your first time coughing up ash, soon after followed smirnoff shots with flavored lemonade-- her drinking endeavors taught you not to venture towards ferment-- yet inside you were already so. so you knocked one back, two, touched yourself where you wished they'd want you. but it was no substitute we knew. when fingers first brushed the band of walmart panties and tongue to labia you were born and born again at the rim of the bong, breathing in the life you burnt away.

[actaeonize-blog]

I thought meter to be cheap; and rhymes were cliche, I'd laugh in my face today.

[actaeonize-blog]

i always bought the grass being emerald, just over the edge of my reality; i always thought solutions could be broken down into chemical bonds, and breaking molecules to push over, the serotonin the dopamine the dope, and mean things; fuliginous the opiates break to powder like bone to ash and the urns you'd be in are all fine white and sifted, put them in gel capsules, a ziploc kept in the strap of your bra at the rave. you sell em not knowing the things you promote is just soot given to people who one day will be soot.

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

you’re still here;

the house with four bedrooms, two baths its haunted. i smell you when i look,  and wonder just how that new family, the one with the red car as opposed to the black and white ones i remember, is getting along there.

i remember hanging a noose from the tree and getting in trouble; we had no idea and the songs we wrote and pictures you drew for me, and the electric guitar there, with its handle towards the wall

i can remember everywhere youve touched me my heart beats hard in your wake 

i never realized what i had

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

you are supernal, but we, together are stuck the same inveterate pattern of love and not requited and not what has made us so? my fault it has to be i think, in the dead of night where darkness sticks like the stench of garlic my breath spells your name and my skin screams your touch i have never felt but your love made me drunker than ethanol ever could

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

It still stings sometimes,  The scars, however wilted, Will not stop screaming. 

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

i was 16 when i realized sadness was dangerous and that the apathy that brewed inside me  when i started gulping down pills  was more than depression

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

the island hurdles into view all lava rocks and magma and sea fresh waves lap at the coast the turbines sound like they may explode and we could all taste death but it snakes away; slipping off like sand right between our fingers.

[eoten]

The part of ourselves which is made to endure is called ‘ritual’ & in the purest examples is all that’s left, kind of like how the bodies of supermodels & star athletes are worn down just to bones by gazes & those bones are not necessarily the shape you expect. e.g. as the head worn down to the crane-shaped skull; as the hands worn down to hundreds of chain-links; as the chest worn down to supernova in ivory so the life worn down to the ritual of setting water to boil & pouring it out & the steam rising & the heat on the fingers & eyes

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

straight from the womb carved of ultimatum

your diaphanous fingers your ephameral gaze domestic scented sorrow of duvettes and goose down with tearss the green that fills your admiration your roots too before descending to inky black

sides shaven they cut you short your mouth speaks resent over the faded browns the locks lost no more fishtail tresses like rows of seaweed

they miss parts of you that were already dead how selfish to crave what cant come back

how selfish to speak uneasy words to a malleable girl carved of ‘either/or’ molded of ultimatum and know she cant choose

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

I wonder whether feeling like I want to die, Has replaced the “I love you’s” that, You once let me regale in. I wonder when it was first that I noticed it was fake. I learned to love you in tags, vague posts, The modern age’s inability to be direct Is exhumed in the realization of my unimportance. I wonder when you fall asleep, If you feel it in your gut, You feel yourself on my mind, The tip of my tongue, Drowning in lonliness and ennui. I wonder if you will ever accrue To the piles of scorched letters; Piles of ash down the sink, That I’ll never send. I wonder if this present, The one I was going to send, Will sit here forever, Your name written With a missing address line. I wonder. Are love and hate really that different?

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

selfish and stubborn, aries will run head first into your life. they are the battering. ram, and will leave you in pieces.

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

it sticks to the roof of my mouth.  my throat clenches, hands too.  breathing snatched, like my teeth are dreamcatchers. my fingers tear each other apart, slowly; a civil war of distals and carpals.

it is incredible how it looms,  a crowded room like my shadow, it shoves me into situations. it shoves me into life.  headfirst, raw, bleeding,  crashing through the window  of tolerance. 

clench your jaw, brace yourself,  the door slams and it is there,  all you have,  your thoughts cannot yell,  paste clogs joints.

i cannot uncurl my fingers. 

i cannot unbreathe what’s stuck.

crosses of scissor shapes stick to my skin,  like lonely does my fears.

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

the school is like  a lego prison,  grey bricks with  barred windows,  a barricade of  concrete.  a school of  clammy handed, wide eyed, snout nosed, teenagers.

the grey extends  from pastel blue  to sad slate  and clouds,  swirling sadly funnel into the school  and precipitation and humidity  hails  like everyone  is a cloud.

acoustic  plucking resounds, bouncing off spacious stairs, bounding off solitary walls with grey bricks  crumbling at the seams.

sitting in a class with miles of hair she flips pages licks her lips,  scratches her nose, flips pages,  licks finger,  dogears page,  stares at book. and she breathes, blissful quiet like a secret was told just to her and she savors it.

the book is smart,  smarter than her and all the cover color drains onto her, pretty blues filling  her vacuous eyes, pastel draining  the book to slate.

the cover would cry,  but the cover does not. it sits in her hands, drained, exhausted, and she puts it back,  fingers leeching across the bindings of a million other books.

she drinks poetry like she drinks blood.

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

look down the barrel, do you see yourself in it? how the bullet gleams.

[runawaysyndromes-blog]

ir•rel•ev•ant (adj.) not connected with or relevant to something.

Not relevant to you.

Not connected to the hooks we spoke of that night so long ago.

You let me go but I still feel irascible holes that leak dust rather than blood or ichor where you had snagged me. Right away from others grip, and hoisted me onto your boat of pretty words and light red waters that smelled like blood, but tasted like strawberry.

in•sig•nif•i•cant too small or unimportant to be worth consideration. Like the fragile splinters of me that stick out of the wall like broken mirrors, tiny refractions of all sides of me, staring with hands outstretched. I need saving and reassurance that these adjectives do not make up the core of my being.

un•lov•a•ble unable to be loved. Incapable said the many people of which tried, but when they got too deep, they started to sink, and my sands melted around them in a pretty glass case. I get shattered every time.