they sent me my halo for free

delilah / they / poetry blog

[saintsguts-blog]

i will wear belladonna on my lips and swallow the seeds persephone forgot to eat.

d.a.y.

[saintsguts-blog]

for what's a god to a girl with the devil between her teeth?

d.a.y.

[saintsguts-blog]

we fell like we came; brash, burning, and beautiful

d.a.y.

[saintsguts-blog]

i too have taken god into my mouth and my god wants to know why a child like you is claiming to her mouthpiece, when it seems more like you dined with the devil and pieces of him are stuck between your teeth.

d.a.y.

[saintsguts-blog]

i didn't want to be a martyr but they sent the halo for free. it would be rude to discard a gift without trying it on first, right?

d.a.y.

[saintsguts-blog]

and i, in my bitter grief, face wet with tears, felt my heart turn to stone. no medusa was needed.

d.a.y.

[saintsguts-blog]

and so this is how we sleep with our hopes caught between our teeth and our dreams too far gone to remember and suddenly youve gone cold and now im the warm colors in this palette

[nosebleedclub]

Discussion 7/1/16

1. No magic 2. Portfolio 3. Containment 4. Natural talent vs. discipline 5. Visions

[saintsguts-blog]

1. my lovers got a halo over their head and god in their throat. my sister is mary but without the child. all these holy magic kids and then there is us. the ones who wash their feet with our hair, who are sinners who kiss their saints on the lips. no magic for us, no blessings for us. 

2. ten journals sit in a pile at the side of my bed. the most reason lies on the top. that one is my favorite, ive decided. you helped write it, because you know me like disciples knew jesus.

3. they don’t let me see them when they start choking on his words. they lock the door and i sit outside, head against it. things are broken by the time they come out, and i take care to keep glass out of the room. i wish you would do it somewhere open and big.

4. you pull god out of your teeth and hand him to me. i make art, i paint what you tell me to. you tell me that you’ve never seen better art, never seen an artist with so much potential tucked away, and i laugh. to sit here and be told what to paint, now that requires discipline love.

5. what do they look like? i ask you one night as we lay close, legs tangled. you don’t reply at first. you tell me they look like liquid gold has seeped into your eyes but it burns like the fires of hell and sometimes you think you catch a glimpse of a figure or two but you can’t ever tell because everything is happening all at once all the colors are bleeding and it hurts. it hurts. im sorry, i tell you. youre not at fault is all you say.

[saintsguts-blog]

no more. no more words about you. take the sheets off. wash them until they’re faded. i order peaches from the west coast, canned. my uncle sends me sneakers, neon green.  i was more of angel then you ever were.

[saintsguts-blog]

i think i’ll start posting messy drafts and polished stuff too

[artblackafrica]

Muhammad went to the desert; Buddha, Jesus, Moses… They all went to the desert as nobodies and came back as somebodies. There must be something interesting in the desert — I tell you, it’s the most incredible place, because there is nothing there except yourself, and yourself is a big deal.

Interview: Marina Abramovic | oystermag.com (via artblackafrica)