random stuff i scribbled down quickly between classes...i'll have to come back to it, or just delete it, whichever.

we met under the city
the first time, breathed firelight
through the twisting tunnels, our lungs
sustained off fantasy alone.
the walls were diaries
for the confessions
of my body, that night
watching the flame devour itself.

now these caves we dug
are filled to the top with mud
and i cannot sink any further
the fire licks the pages
of this book, my mind is in peril
i want to tell this story 
until it loves me back.

but each remembering
poisons and twists, i am a junkie
grasping for the first high, 
and losing. 
as the dream is pulled
from the waking mind
by unknown gods,
we wake.
this cave is under our feet
and filled to the brim with rock
as if it never existed.

coffee

sluggish splash, burning
acid slipping down to light
the minds waiting fuse

ummm.... assignment for my creative writing class. had to write a sestina. I ended up making a depressing little story out of it...I swear, if I tried to write about puppies and rainbows I'd make them horrifying. anyway. here.



i fell down the stairwell
and watched the sun cleave
muttering god and shit
at the blood stain.
as the the thick white light
turned to crimson.

the sky was crimson.
when i woke on the stairwell
I watched the odd light
die as arms cleaved
around me and all the stains.
the water i was given tasted like shit

the food tasted like shit
in the hospital, crimson
words falling out of your mouth ,stained
with worry. i dreamed about the stairwell
often my mind would cleave
half in dark and half in light

the part in the light
only knew I was sick, and felt like shit
i'd watch your lips cleave
and drew the crimson
with my fingernails, missing the stairwell
missing the stain

the dark part lived in the stain
and was terrified of light
reclimbing the stairwell
the dream was bullshit
but I rebuilt everything crimson
and hauntingly beautiful, shortened the cleave

in me, while you cleaved
to me, much worried by the stains
on my hands, crimson
rivulets running from the light
of day, i existed on the stairwell
i spit out the food that tasted of shit

I stopped building crimson castles, pulled shades to light
eventually, but we cleaved apart, couldn't wash out the stains
from the stairwell, our kisses tasted like shit.