#escapril2024

[cowboy-heart]

'two romeos', alternatively named 'thank GOD for butch bottoms'

(ID in read more)

[ID: a lineated poem titled 'two romeos':

sanguine and ever holy, you drip off my tongue like fresh honey. a ray through the curtains perfectly catches your double chin, your unplucked brows, the hairs nestled on your lip, a smile so warm so strong, you, carved of marble sun my personal Apollo.

roll around with me, laughing in stupid ecstasy, butch in the streets, femme in the sheets, as if as if – you’re butch to the bone, just like me, I’ve tasted it that butch marrow.

on your back, on your knees, our bedroom full of mysteries of which they could never glean, they whisper they guess the scene; motorcycle-oil lathered on our bodies, combat boots kept on, arm wrestles, bruised clavicles, carabiners locking, headlocking, a fight for dominance, engines revving, a sadomasochist’s wet dream.

we let them hypothesize, of violence they often fantasize, all while we mutually baptize. but what they don’t get is you’re butch all hours: underneath me breathing caught and heavy in my ear, muscled hands gripping my hair, thick calves locked around my lower back’s rolls, a sight meant just for us – I’m blessed I’m blessed your gentleness, your strength, your vulnerability, my tender hand, my sweet touch, the trust you put in me.

the next day no-one could guess the sacraments performed; we are greaser-dressed, hair slicked back, owning the pavements, like something unable to be fucked with –

but oh, loverboy, did we.

end ID]

[verdant-lobotany]

The Problem Of Death

The problem with death? Well first there's the children Wailing which keeps you awake through the night Then there's the cost Half a dollar per bullet Which stacks goddamn quick when they put up a fight Or driving them off When they come to seek refuge With some luck the sea solves your problem With depth If not then there's bodies And you must dispose them Scout the whole shoreline cross all of its breadth But fuck it. You gotta. You don't want some journo To give all those corpses a face Make them mother or father To some little orphan Once trusting in God and His grace Of course there's still stories But make sure they're abstract An us versus them Or unfortunately cost To the lives of some strangers Far off and unlike us You wouldn't have noticed were lost So yes there's some issues Some snags in the system The people get queasy 'round blood So keep them far off With us now are the profits And after us, always, the flood

[verdant-lobotany]

Posture

Posture, darling, suck your breath in Clear, polite and point by point Hide your hackles, bite your tongue And bide your bile. You're doing great. Posture, bluff, just keep appearance Look like these are stats to you Look like you don't feel like screaming Why bare teeth when poison works? Join the club of folks worth hearing Never show those fangs of yours Calmly trace out all the suffering Maybe add how it wastes funds Posture, darling, you look angry Wouldn't want to seem to care Wouldn't dare seem unobjective Wouldn't dare and shouldn't try

[smeloncurls]

tomorrow

i can’t promise youit’ll be an easy ridebut i will hold your handand dance with you when your time comesand the music stopsplaying, i’ll bring you flowerseveryday and decorate your grave and when tomorrow arrivesand you’re not herei’ll cry, i’ll say goodbyebut tomorrow won’t die

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[shephanonmybuddie]

how to exist

it’s hard to exist when all i can feel are the bones of my very self touching the cold glaze that is my skin, but i wrote a guide anyway.

dream of new lands, an aeon away

make barren plans for the future, romanticising the picture

find yourself a lover if that’s what you desire

and rid yourself of all hate

now this may be hard to do, so if you find yourself slipping away, just say one of four phrases.

i was born for a reason

and if i fail, i will catch myself

i miss the old ways

let me lyrically scream the words to my faded favourite songs

now you are ready, young one, but be warned:

that voice in your head will say you are better off dead

and chemical futuristic waves will fearmonger, your soul in a clutch

the world fucking sucks.

so let yourself breathe, value the sleep, because it is your only escape.

and remember.

it’s only eighty years of mindless torture.

[verdant-lobotany]

How to Exist

Or harder yet however not to How to make your eyes close shop You've not existed long in there Not quite so old and quite so changed Not quite so from the world estranged With novel bits of where and tear And wherefore waver in this dance Regroup, regret your loss, relearn On loop, in bed, you toss and turn And tear to shreds your worst laid plans The shoes which brought you to this bed Don't fit your feet these days at all You faithful thing who heard the call And came to fill this form you shed And still you don't know how to stop And still you know you always do

[smeloncurls]

how to exist

how would i knowthere isn’t a single partof me in your headyou don’t thinkabout me, i dreamof cotton candy clouds and salty blue skiesyou revel indark oceans and nightly stormsi know how to existbut it’s not near you

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[smeloncurls]

surgery

we took our seatson plastic worn outchairs, tired wallssurrounded us, painfulcarpets rolled out to welcomeus, i wish it was a happy time, as each minuteticked by we waitedcrossed our fingersand held onto hopes they wheeled your bedround, you smiledyou actually smiledand said i’m okay if only the endingturned out the same wayyour chaptercame to an endjust six months later i carry you with…

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