Fogless Forms Roll Silently

I hope it shines teeth grin disease

[hauntedgardenking]

[hauntedgardenking]

There is negative space in my abdomen, we are at cigarette church hours, and I’ve split my lip. The bones are dry upon a new year wasteland; gone cross eyed bed rotting. Scrawl the sigils into the tapestry blowing around while my cat paws for more love. I’d kill for dirty knees outside the Board of Light and Power; sacraments from old line cooks prescribed poppy fields. I’d search through Amazon Basics for dead friends names; next day shipping is free. Factory life means automation blink only rest after 3:30.

[theafternoontiger]

Visit Original Link

[emmaloveslyrics]

This Year // The Mountain Goats

[hauntedgardenking]

Just about through what is objectively the worst year of my life. I am grateful to have actually made it here alive (which is surprising because I’ve learned that I run toward the danger). The terrible things I’ve witnessed this year have propelled me to do better for myself and to further prioritize my own well being (I mean minus literally almost dying in multiple instances). My life is full of love from people in every corner of my life, and I thank them everyday with every breath I exhale. I hope others feel the amount of love I have received in these last 12 months because it is beyond exceptional. I hope to pass on that love to those in my life and to those passing by. And yeah, I made it through this year, and it only nearly killed me.

[hauntedgardenking]

[kaelio]

[bagadew]

[kael-writ]

[hauntedgardenking]

We are pulled apart, luscious agape across the fields east of town; seminal in dreams caught in my eyes. A seventh gate yawning for lips left pining; stuck in temples of dirty work shirts. There are myriad portals slip streamed silver through cluttered rooms; the maximalist in me touches right above your knee, high hopes. Is this observing collective consciousness, or are twilight's away; are we zoned for good golly gosh or has your tongue bruised against the peaches? There was a time where cigarettes and coffee replaced September, we've burned October; I'd give my teeth to elucidate November. Cotton-Candy tonight's sky, perilous wanderer, sit in a poorly lit parking lot with me; hands are for sun warmth, radio apparition continues home.

[hauntedgardenking]

I’m all seamless sleep; a temple of how to change your life after 30, and a starlit passing gaze. Sweet love for planet earth and I’ll share my bone marrow with dissidents far from harbor. Oh, Saint of Limerence, clean sheets for morning eyes, rise and shine the coffee is fresh in the French press. Hands are for praying; a simulacrum of maladaptive daydreams underneath a waxing moon. Say to speakers: “Savor conversations in snail mail; your headdress made of gifted amethyst shimmers close to shared cigarettes,”. It is always insomniac monologue with the night sky, usually over any nicotine one could find. Find me when benediction fails; I’ll be laying offerings of poppies and lily of the valley at the altar.

[hauntedgardenking]

With the sun cresting behind the top of the valley, twilight makes it’s way across the ocean of prairie wild flowers and grasses

Lay claim to clay at your feet to make the elegies for the star sinking beneath the horizon washing over to brilliant reds and yellows

It will be you and I, hand in hand, and then apart, a couple of whirling dervishes to summer sweat putting the heat to rest

This ceiling twinkling with the prayers of those in the sea of vibrating flesh crashing into one another to organs pulled from our collective breath

And we would greet the Harvest Moon, a coven, awash the orange sky retching out birds to sing the final rites of the season

Midnight will burn away the barn where our eyes met, to tunes of Lonesome Crowded West

[hauntedgardenking]

Tense, release breath hitched like the Milky Way sitting in the bed of a truck and I am wasted upon the throne of reckless driving. Wick-less palms tent or in prayer say one million lines of scripture or we are bonfires. The roof of mouths hallowed October’s coming air, and the fogged cab. Ruddy we sing open, close nose to nose syncopated in synchronicity. Clasped, unfurl my fingertips trace roadmaps geography of cool night, illuminated.

[hauntedgardenking]

There is no one can understand me truly

I don’t go out, I will keep silence

[hauntedgardenking]

Tense, release breath hitched like the Milky Way sitting in the bed of a truck and I am wasted upon the throne of reckless driving. Wick-less palms tent or in prayer say one million lines of scripture or we are bonfires. The roof of mouths hallowed October’s coming air, and the fogged cab. Ruddy we sing open, close nose to nose syncopated in synchronicity. Clasped, unfurl my fingertips trace roadmaps geography of cool night, illuminated.

[hauntedgardenking]

El cariño que te tengo

No te lo puedo negar

Se me sale la babita

Yo no lo puedo evitar

[hauntedgardenking]

Kisses like leaning against northerly winds and I’m returning borrowed sugar. Sage-haired and turning in the backyard; hallucinations of sunset cigarettes be my tender mornings for the next forty years.

[hauntedgardenking]

i am viscera from new year’s eve on my new jeans, awash the panicked calls, i can still hear the air leave your lungs. i have split my abdomen to show i am nothing but decay to a jury of my peers on a tuesday morning. i am the frigid air on hot skin nothing but the whites of my eyes seeing the unwashable stroke of midnight screaming that those were not gunshots. please peel back the muscles from my fucking bones, i need out.

[hauntedgardenking]

i am viscera from new year’s eve on my new jeans, awash the panicked calls, i can still hear the air leave your lungs. i have split my abdomen to show i am nothing but decay to a jury of my peers on a tuesday morning. i am the frigid air on hot skin nothing but the whites of my eyes seeing the unwashable stroke of midnight screaming that those were not gunshots. please peel back the muscles from my fucking bones, i need out.

[hauntedgardenking]

“So eat up And throw your body into the gears of this machine(machine) That spits you out terrified of human beings But it’s only love I think it’s what you need So throw your body into the gears of this terrifying machine”

[hauntedgardenking]

Laid back down with my eyes closed

I let all the air out of my nose

I let all my dirt melt to glorious mud

Smiled for a while six feet under the flood