my grandmother's tartan bag sits on an upside-down bucket in the basement,
full to the brim with little liquor bottles and cardboard boxes
I go to do the laundry,
pass it twice an hour
and every time, just for a moment, I think she's visiting
|My third DD, not grief, but something like it, suggested by beeinthebottle and featured by neurotype. Thanks so much!|
My second DD was plumbum, suggested by Laura-Lie and featured by thorns.
My fourth DLD was I build, suggested by alapip and featured by xlntwtch.
My third DLD was hypergraphia, received October 4th 2011, suggested by NicBelroque and featured by thetaoofchaos on December 23rd, 2012. It was also my first DD, featured on January 5th 2012 byBeccalicious.
My second DLD was metamorphic rock n' roll, received on July 25th 2011, suggested by TwilightPoetess and featured by bowie-loon123
My first DLD was thryroidal cartilage, received on May 17th 2011, suggested by alapip and featured by thetaoofchaos
HOW MANY BABIES DO BUNNIES USUALLY HAVEdon't delete my browser history when I dieHOW MANY BABIES DO BUNNIES USUALLY HAVE by consolecadet
instead, read it and write poignant poetry about the porn I consumed
and how it juxtaposed with google searches about hormones and the color of pears
what does hashtag yolo mean to youremember your body is malleablewhat does hashtag yolo mean to you by consolecadet
photograph yourself as though you are someone else
talk about yourself in the third person as though it gives you distance from yourself
constancynew icebergs are rising under my skinconstancy by consolecadet
some tear and some are smooth like polished wood
your constancy holds other end of the kite-string my body is attached to
where we aremy morning grapefruit makes me think of you,where we are by consolecadet
languishing on some Floridan beach
I imagine watching Death Proof or Jackie Brown with you for International Women's Day
I wonder if I could compose stories the way Tarantino does trunk shots
or the way Kubrick does one-point perspective
the skin on my arms is splitting again
I tell myself it is because I am a battering ram
but then I worry about breaking down doors
-i stand on the fabric of silence- by sto67
like a water skimmer,
across the pond because
i own the space that echoes
fear to tread;
this virgin realm taboo
to those who have spoken.
the quiet king of his dominion
will protect his subjects
through solemn isolation.
I am a kingdom,
a nation of muffled refugees
who only seeks to escape
unfortunate habitI have an unfortunate habitunfortunate habit by Meggie272
of pressing my fingers to my wrist;
or the soft warm spot in my neck
between the taut tendon and the rigid hardness
of the laryngeal prominence.
I think; although I am not sure
that I do this
to feel the steady thump the blood thrum
the flow the beat the never ceasing flicker of life
It reminds me.
It reminds me that I still function
that in all these broken parts
there is something that still works
something that operates the way it should
the way textbooks say it should and white coats say it should
and that I really am here
with the flutter of my blood in my veins
And then I remember.
This rhythm, this song
played through the neck of a little girl.
the acoustics were better in those days
A little girl, just six, seven maybe?
And I say to her
my dearest little starry-eyed girl
my hopeful little self with my hopeful little bobcut
I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.
And life flickers on through both of us.
Desolatewithered leavesDesolate by bottle-in-the-sea
scattered on the porch --
wind now reigns this place