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Twisted Catapult
___We wound up the way, trespassed the vine, covered the mile
Nothing knew the way we would work
Nothing was there to affront the progress we took
Every step along the length of the way
We found ourselves pacing to covet the canvas
Every brushstroke we took to the stray
An art form that broke the plains of Kansas
___We were broken, hungering on our ( Read more... ) -
Broken Shin, Pounding Heart
A twist, a sound of tumult, the feeling inside
She rose, risen above, to find her eyes wide
As she raked in the endless night about her
The moments counted past details she knew
And remembering well she held her place
A gunshot, the pain, it was all of someone else
The deal, the breaking point, and what she sells
There was nothing in that second ( Read more... ) -
Queen Goddesses: The First of Days
It was dark; in every direction was there nothing and of nothing was the form of all the world, and it was darkness. In it was there a black shade cascading over everywhere that had been thought of, they had thought of it, and it was true. There was something there, though it was nothing, it was full of a black endlessness and it could be fathomed ( Read more... ) -
A Siren's Longing: The Present Mirror
___She lived in every moment, breathing her own spine and sapping the poison off of the leaves. She saw herself, in her reflection were always those eyes staring back at her, knowing more than she did. The hollow spot in her heart yearned to be as those eyes, and she dreamed and dreamed on about having that pure gaze that saw more than there was to ( Read more... ) -
The Silent Birth Of A Venomous Snake
___Slithering, she slipped into empty passages. Writhing, she moved in writhing motions and shook the balance of the world. Empty, she named her clause and learned its rules as by empty text. Biblical, she filled the passages of her waiting diary until only the names of God remained.
___Full, she was absent of emptiness, contradictory to the ways ( Read more... ) -
Counting Clocks By The Shore
___It reminds me of a tale of the Goddess of Cruelties, who was born before all things and shaped the first worlds out of malevolence and hate, and how she destroyed her creations while making them, and poisoned and burned the landscapes while shaping them. Shivathe… I could call her that name, couldn’t I? But I don’t know that it’s true, only that ( Read more... ) -
Driven By Empty Desire; Dystopia
Twisted, the leaves bent out, manipulated to shape along the length of the vine ( Read more... ) -
Theory of a Daydream
In the moments of life
Where everything comes to a screeching halt
And the second holds
Still as a last minute
The point where you know something is
About to happen
Maybe will happen
It's all on risk to count
That a disaster is swelling to match the point
Where something will
Be what is consuming
Of the day that surrounds the full of your thoughts
( Read more... ) -
a Characterization of an Illness
Like cascades of water falling, shimmering in the light and reflecting it like bent glass. The downpour was enough to drown, and ate at the floor beneath it, making the distance to fall even further with each torrent of pouring. It sang, it sang of terrible and beautiful things; it told me I was something special, it told me I was worthless and ( Read more... ) -
Foundations _ Silence
After all she did
She was found guilty
And no one came for her
The world was weathered
Her veins were sharp
And the monsters came
To eat the flesh out of her hands
And devour the world which she loved.