Feast-

God lies beneath the earth

Can you hear him?

Press your ear to the floor and listen

Listen

Can you hear them?

Can you hear the bugs that chant below the soil

Waiting for someone to rot so they can feast

Feast upon their molded flesh.

THE EVIDENCE OF THINGS NOT SEEN.

When I was a kid, I told my dad I wanted a sled for christmas.

He told me no, because we didn’t get enough snow.

And we lived in the middle of a flat city, without any hills or even any gradual inclines.

But I thought, if I just got a sled, maybe it’d snow.

If I just got a sled maybe, we could find a hill.

Maybe God would see that I was ready, so maybe he’d feel bad…

But my dad said no.

That year it snowed.

Now that I’m grown I wonder about it.

Cause everyday I prepare for a future I’m not sure is coming.

For mountains when all around me is plain.

I buy my coats.

My scarves and sweaters and I prepare for snow.

And I hope God sees that I’m ready,

That I’m prepared and I’m waiting.

And maybe he’ll say, here you go.

Even though, everyone else says no.

Maybe God will say, Let there be snow.

-DC

Reminded myself of her face again

I was one push of a button to talk to her

But

I didn’t

Even if I just wanted to ask, how is she doing

Too scared, too ashamed

the sculptor

i carve away at myself

to create something i

could never dream of being

but my hand slips

and hollows me out

sculptures cannot see

and boy, am i lost

sculptures cannot think

but i think i’m fading

and it won’t be long ‘till

the wind blows away

my concrete freckles

and dusty fingertips

leaving me to wonder

what i thought was wrong with

the stone

i used to be

a dog’s world

life is a thing with sticks and angry men and waiting anxiously for better things. but i’m tired of waiting, i’m tired of angry men holding sticks in violent hands, so i run, like water in a rushing river, i run, i do not stop until i shake, until i struggle to breathe, until i land somewhere new, somewhere without sticks and angry men and waiting for something good

the place i end up has a lot of people, and they don’t seem very angry, but i find myself still waiting for the sticks to show up, but they never do. instead of hitting, their hands rub my belly. instead of yelling, their mouths call me frenchy. they promise to keep me safe.

one day, a man holds a stick, and i get this sinking feeling in my chest, because i know it’s going to happen again. i hide behind the one with the kind, green eyes, and i hope for the best. but they promise not to hurt me. the man puts the stick down, and for the first time since the days of blurry eyes and holding onto mom, i feel safe.

but some of the people here seem sad. i don’t know why water runs down their cheeks so often, but i feel the pain in their hearts that is so familiar to me. they rub my belly, they call me frenchy, so i promise to keep them safe.

in a dog’s world, time passes quickly. each new memory is a bright and beautiful blur, and no longer are my days filled with anything but love

green eyes no longer look so sad, and the one who bled is now as vibrant as the colors of her hair - though i still have no idea how she does that

life is a thing of big yards and belly rubs and finally having something good. once, i ran and ran for as long as i could, desperate for better things. and now, they’re finally here. no longer do i wait for sticks in the hands of angry men. now, i know that i am safe

Berlin and Florence once bore Two scrawly lines Converging northwards Crossed in Brighton Beach

Scrimmaging in disbelief That when the shared In September’s languid lights, liquorice and lightsome kisses between bad cantine meals the saline savour on their brittle lips resembled falling cherry night

Sandro with the flutter-eye, keep my disposition high Forsake me by your pretty side You know below red-rimmed lights I incite your pulse Like atropine

Day 17.

Dark and terrible

What are you? Bump in the night

Thing under my bed

I was okay, I was alright
Until I dared to look into these eyes
Got sucked under, got dried
got lost, got tied
They bit and clawed onto mine
Slowly but suddenly - invaded
convinced, possessed
by that great unknown
I run away from
your mind

Trapped With You. (Poem)

I’m not sure how to leave here,

How to tell you that I’m done.

I wouldn’t want to hurt you,

But I feel like I should run.

To run would not be right,

But to stay would be way worse.

It may not seem that bad to you,

But I feel like I’ve been cursed.

I don’t know who I am now,

I’m different than before.

I tried so hard to change myself,

To be your everything and more.

When you ask me if I’m happy,

I lie when I say yes.

I’m not sure how to leave here.

How do I get out of this mess.

- m

Uninvited

You came when I didn’t call

You talked when I refused to see

You showed me love when I couldn’t touch

You caressed me when I couldn’t feel

You feed me when I couldn’t hear

You loved me when I couldn’t love myself

I shut down because I saw him in you

I ran when you tried to walk beside me

I hide my heart when you tried to warm it

I closed my eyes when you tried to hold me

I picked you apart when all you wanted was to befriend me

I cursed you’re name when all you tried to do was console me

Now I turn to except your gifts

It appears that you are gone now

I didn’t understand what you were trying to do

Now I know you did all those things because you loved me

Yet, I turned away from you out of fear

Thinking you would only see me for who I was taught I was

Written by

T.S

Dale mas atención a lo que te llena de felicidad.

When I thought I reached the sky, I remembered that the gravity always win.

Magic
is real
and you know it too
you’ve felt it already
but she hides
from everyone

Everything is so drenched on it
we do not realize
that magic is not outside
of this world
it is this world, so please don’t stop
your fumbling around

Magic is your lover’s kiss
when you’re about to cry
magic is a roaring sea
suddenly getting all calm
Magic is someone covering your tracks
Magic is that silent tune filling suddenly these lungs
Magic is…every day’s Sun

Magic is that sudden connection
you can guess but you can’t explain
yet it is there
give in to its power, its subjective strength

you are the universe and
The universe does speak
but is it you or him you do hear?
It does not want to interfere
It says, “dare to be free”

Magic is that tiny star
that fills the whole sky
Everyone seeking her out
but she’s been there all the time
There’s magic in thee
if you just let it breathe

Where will we meet?

I had wonder of a place,

Where shall we go?

Of burning bones or tender flesh

Thunder storms or rather empty eyes,

Where shall I lay down?

Down a cliff or floating endlessly

Behind curtains and silverine moonlight,

Nature grows and dies,

Maybe you shall be there day and night

For what an empty shell can grow,

Maybe somewhere in your arms there’s warmth

Or will the sky tell us the day is ending

Of falling colors to where,

Where shall we go?

Oh what shall we become?

Where everything seperates, maybe I shall find you between endless spaces,

In endless time there was always the tip of your hands reaching either to cloudless skies or me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So here I am with another poem to hopefully give some people struggling in these difficult times some motivation! Hope you all enjoy it!

~Marilita ❣

benchwarmer

waiting for someone

to come along,

one the stars whisper of.

then someone

comes along

and goes,

and the stars whisper,

“darling,

you’re waiting.”

forever the one who waits,

not cut out to come along

Dark Delight

I annihilated the buds of the roses you bought me,

Until all that remained was an empty vase with thorn covered stems.

Now anytime I catch myself missing you, I run my fingers over them.

A sting

A drop of blood rushing to the surface

Reminding myself why I left,

Or a form of negative reinforcement some might say.

Either way I’m well aware, I can’t drift back to those scarlet blooms

They disguised too much.

-JF-