spacesuitcatalyst

Love is just the search for someone who cares to hear our lives narrated, so if you care this morning I woke up to the sun tracing me gold. I made myself a latte and tried to write a little, but the words weren't lithe and supple; they wrote like broken bones. So I read some of Emerson, and I read some of Proust, and I read some of Shelley and that was all, saving the world I knew word by word, and I spent the rest of my morning looking at old pictures of you, and by midday I was distraught because you used to be so much happier. But I kept looking at your pictures to feel my bones keep breaking . and your story n

in winter days, mother wakes heavy-lidded as her skeleton recollects itself and stumbles in a half-thought arrangement of curious limbs, trying to teach the ribcage how to sew back together its columns of rough-hewn teeth so her swelling light does not spill through open slits, a heart anchored firmly in her chest and pushing fire through tangled veins. tender bones shake off lakes of snow from where they drifted into the craters that hide behind her knees while the thickened night presses forests of gentle bruises into an aching spine and counts all the ways dead trees could blossom. white-winged larks are the first to flock to

And this is my only act of love to you. Oh, so you've grown up, like I never did Resurrection makes me younger than I was But not party to youth and the modern day. Once I would have died if you forgot me, once I needed you so dearly To use, like some power-tripping dictator who lived on only by the collective consensual delusion despite the famines Like the majesty of electricity, who commands: Oh uranium, be split for me Oh uranium, give up on being you, be torn apart, So I won't die and the lights won't go out And you said yes, Because what else could uranium do And similarly, with your life, given shape and intrigue Given

Ghost transmissions: echo from the screen in an empty theater now forsaken to chronology, with broken pilasters, crooked seats, dead dust, paint and gold peeling, and the rust as layers from a dream. Her face: vignetted and soft in the glow of studio lighting slowly decays, erased with time, a living film: always shifting, ever changing, the infinite and steady stare  of grey and hollow eyes. Her coat shudders: outside,   in the cold breeze of final night,  and the sky shifts with broken verses, revealing echoes of moonlight. the fatal wound, the cigarette, the silent noir of the final scene. the buildings -- corpses, mon

There’s a piano playing in the next room, And a broken streetlight casts shadows here. There’s a whispered memory floating over this bed, But no one’s left to hear. You could stare at two thousand stars, And never remember the one he called yours. You could whisper back to the chair in the corner, (About everything that could have been.) But no one’s left to hear. In the darkness you can hold yourself, And imagine it’s his arms. In the darkness you could cry your sorrow, But no one’s left to hear. Sometime while you’re laying down, Or walking through the street, I expect you’ll stop a mom

lightbulb breaking flicker, flicker tongue upon skin. silent voices speaking through megaphones "I love you?" (won't love.) "I love you?" (can't love.) "I love you?" refuse remembrance cling to sleepless memories of two a.m. and warmth "I love you?" refuse feeling cling to faded lovers gone "I love..?" refuse new life in love and prepare to recreate. "I..?" fingers upon skin "I am..." tongue upon skin "I am just..." mouth upon. "I am just lust." ("I am remembrance refused.") lightbulb breaking flicker, flicker out.

the places I have called home cannot be counted on four dozen               pairs of hands I have     walked     flown     driven     floated over more land and sea                 than you shall ever see I have been searching     and I am still searching for something that was never there I swear I don’t want to be here     again I’ll swear to leave (in secret, I swear to want to stay) so, take me to a new port just set me on a new plane I’m so tired of moving but I’ll swear to hate to stay

it was worth it- shattering. "the whole world is waiting to see when you fall." like a rainbow reflecting in a prism, bold, things swimming inside, a fearless apology- everything "however far away" outside gold, a single rose- when time stops, goes faster or slower than we remember- i missed you once.-i still miss you- i'm a little annoyed that you're too drugged out on percoset to talk to me, but i know it's not your fault, the surgical procedure was a long time coming- they had to fix your veins at some point, too cynical- is there anything so inspiring? there are still some things that i love more than you an