i.
tennis ball skies, loose
elasticity. hallucinations
haunt the marrow of
those bounded.
strings of silver, seduce
and strangle.
ii.
the pendulum swings
as lust turns to mud
and we gracelessly, fall.
demi gods dance to the
rhythm of capillaries whilst
hades summons our ghouls.
iii.
hanging men, lying on the
grass; burnt and haunted
by the stillness of their
memories.
cascade, inorganic the
wind curls under the
skins of stillborns.
iv.
fingernails scratch at
chalk and pull at eye
lashes.
me trouver dans
cet ouragan. Je vous
en prie.
crumbling, lips move
in slow motion as we
rest in the rot.
tumbling, melting at
the core, breathing
in the dust and
chaos.
excusez-moi
pouvez-vous
m’entendre?
Oh my, the girl is beautiful, yes. Fluid, creative with big blue eyes and the moving imagination of one of those left types. She moves like she knows the world and won’t tremble if she walks alone at three am. You can’t scare her with humanity or with the weapons they choose. She has seen too much for you. She lies with god and the devil in the same night, calling for amnesty. She doesn’t make a sound as she struggles for breath or is plunged into cold raindrops falling from a heavenless sky. The girl is beautiful, yes but she is fearless and that won’t get you anywhere.
he keeps a toothbrush in my bathroom and socks in my piles of washing. he has a side of the bed and we lie on our backs talking about places that we’ll get married. we have little jokes and i know when he is lying. he can tell when i’m not me, when i’m absent and not even really here any more. we walk down the street holding hands and looking for each other when we go missing. i will cut him a key to my flat and i’ve made space in my wardrobe. we have a routine in the shower, and i always shampoo his hair before he washes mine, and definitely before we wash with soap. my bed feels too big for me now and my shower feels like an ocean pouring over me when he’s not here. i’ve found a home in his rib cage and within his ivory skin. soon we’ll keep our toothbrushes in our bathroom and we’ll put our socks together in piles. we’ll make a home within sheets and the trinkets we’ll buy. soon, we’ll make a home out of our fingers and call it ours.
