#alt prose

[n0tanxious]

i was stung by a bee and now my foot looks like a baseball signed by your mom

after you get off work you remove the thrift store trees from your front yard and don’t explain why you parked your motorcycle in the living room

it’ll take some getting used to lead poisonous weather forecasts and sunny side up ear infections but you still kiss the neck of a stranger in a diminished tube top (and lie to her about the amount of ice in your freezer)

she says she examines every episode of the shifting tectonic plates online but she won’t drink pale ales from the fridge because they taste like cemetery daydreams spent with her step mother

she watches you remove your burgundy blush with a dull machete and pretends to be a ‘world’s greatest’ coffee mug in traffic lights but i think you should have moved away months ago…

[kiwieuropasblog]

not the naked eye

Every time I want to deal with what I already have, 

It seems as though , I'm positioned in a different space. 

Being called dumb blatantly, was a test grab. 

Like honestly, it wasn't the time or place. 

It's alright and all, what would Jesus do? 

He certainly wouldn't react impulsively , 

So I will be graceful still, peace in mood; 

The test is how you'll handle what you subdue. 

Being called out my name is fine;  

My creator made me strong, and mighty. 

With a heart, soul, and spirit divine. 

 Using a simple life example of how people really are; 

They'll laugh in your face, because they're' the ones scarred. 

I'm ok with it even so , there' consequences are not mine. 

The reaped seeds sowed, was they're decision  

[lilycoloredcolossus]

in addition to your cool demeanor i must shoulder your careless doubt. doubt that i am bending, doubt that i will make sacrifices, doubt that i will carry you to fulfillment. & yet, you have never had trouble finishing. you like to ask me where i want it. i tell you i like it on my chest. come close to my heart.

// i don’t want to end u: i want u to fall in love with me. //

how my muscles strain, rippling like tall grasses implicating prey. how my body stretches & snaps to let you in. i am small, but willing. i carry you in my dreams. i wrap you in breaking wings & push horizon after horizon. you say you don’t believe in me, & air becomes a privilege to the raven, not a right.

// i serve another & thus deny myself. //

only in a particular headspace does the imagery make sense: sucking on fingertips stained with guts, thoughts of a ladybug squashed between your hands, a prayer wiped on loose denim. you have me in kinbaku knots, but you say you feel tied up. you wield the knife, but you don’t know where to cut.

xix | cycles, iv.

[lilycoloredcolossus]

today i fit quite nicely into your pontiac convertible, the one with the broken seatbelt on the passenger’s side. the sun bakes my hair into a reddish tint & dapples my skin between flickering palm trees. my oval nails tap out the rhythms of the road & for once you don’t get annoyed. we don’t always get along, but you like me today. your hand seeks my leg but falls, distracted, on the dial. you smile as i glance over my shoulder at you & we nod our heads to the strains of a different era. you are vaguely high as always, & i’m wondering about another coast, another boy, another car, another record; but for now it feels good to be driving down sunset boulevard towards a sky bleached blue-white. you like me today, with my floppy hat & cat eyes skimming the vibrant world. you like me today, wearing sunlight & a sleepy beam, your music the soundtrack to technicolor dreams.

// technicolor daydream ☼

[lilycoloredcolossus]

kindness is disingenuous. i don’t profess to be kind, but accommodating. i will curb —but not bend— my passions around you. i am not the gentlest of people, & heaven knows i haven’t any patience to speak of, but i’ve blunted my claws so that i won’t cut you when you come to cradle me. do not thank me— i struggle with compassion. it is a nestling thing, a warming thing; it is mawkish & tenacious as i am reticent & harsh. & you! oh curious creature, you know that i am negligent in noble pleasure; you know that my fervor is a front to deny my disillusionment. i am not nice— why must you insist on calling me so? i smile only to lure my prey, even if that prey is myself. i shoulder burdens only to increase my mortal strength. it is a conceptual teething; the pain makes my mouth water. i love only to know the joy of love, i give only to know reception. if i spare you from the knife, it is for my dislike of blood. this isn’t to say that i don’t value happiness— i simply do not feel attracted to a saccharine existence— it repulses me through & through! kindness is manipulation! kindness is a rebuke! & you, oh curious creature! how can you proclaim to love me with open arms, yet reproach me with piteous eyes? —no. i am accommodating, considerate even; but darling, i’m not nice.

hard sketch, fig. 2

[lilycoloredcolossus]

i don’t know what to make of this. i’ve never learned to process your flighty rejections. you push & pull at me like i’m a mislabeled door that you can’t operate & so in my mind there is the possibility that you must covet some guilty hindrance, there are bars between us & i must look especially pretty while begging through the gaps. [insert fetishizing of captivity & denial.] “no” with you has been flexible, elliptic, interrogative, an invitation for contention. “no?” hard limits, “no?” delineation, “no?” rope burns leaving scars on my neck & thighs & arms. “no” means dished out as you like it. “no” means hypothetical positing. “no” translated into spanish is no; in french it is non existent. “no” translated into german is nein which should be harsh but i am a professional anagrammer at heart so really it translates to “nine” as in nine lives as in i have nine chances to hear you say ‘yes’, the word which will absolve & pacify us both in one go. the only certainty i have is that your “no/no?” doesn’t signify “absolutely not” although it would be kinder if it did. because you undressed in my presence & said come on in, the water’s fine! knowing that i wasn’t used to atlantic temperatures. you asked me to live here, you petitioned me into my prerogative because damnit, you love me, but your mouth keeps shaping this dumb word that i always have to rearrange with all my linguistic know-how because your arms say yes, your poems say yes, your friends say yes, your smiles say yes & i can’t fucking process this vacillating recantation, this jarring of gears, this no-but-don’t-go, this no-but-don’t-stay-put

–please try again later. the subscriber you are trying to reach doesn’t have service in limbo.

[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.

[rbcages]

I’ve felt your loss a thousand times over. You’d think that by now I’d be used to it, that the wounds would’ve stopped breaking themselves open every time you leave.