I Could Almost Sparkle-Nicole Lyons/The Lithium Chronicles

from nicole lyons

The truth is I liked the filth of it all.

I was a fucking mess,

but eventually life demanded

cleanliness, and eventually

I could almost sparkle.

Still every now and again I’ll slip,

and cast my shadow to the delight

of the other sparkling messes

afraid of their own.

They cool their heels

and laugh, patting each other

on the backs for shining

so bright that their tiny things

will grow dull. I watch them

from my shadow, wrapped

in the warmth of my cleanest

tiny things that will grow wild

and bright despite the mess of me,

and in that moment,

when their lights fade

and the breeze meets the sweat

on the back of my neck,

in that moment I am clean.


[Nicole Lyons is creator of The Lithium Chronicles, as well as being an editor and writer for Sudden Denouement. As always, we are honored…

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Wire in the Blood-Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

from christine ray

The line

between the face

I show the world

and my shadow self

increasingly

grows

thin

 

Superimposed

images

blur

No longer clear

where one ends

and the other begins

 

I walk

deliberately

heel to toe

on the

knife’s edge

between

light

and

dark

Heaven

and

hell

Embracing

the risk

 

There is

wire in my blood

Tang of copper

Taste of hot iron

when I lick

the rich

red droplets

off my fingers

from the scabs

I deliberately

scratch open

 

I like

how alive

I feel

when I bleed

There is purity

to my pain

A high

that

happy

never offers

 

I know what

I am

supposed

to want

But my shadow self

wants to drive

for a while

 

That part of me

doesn’t give a

shit

about

content

This shadow me

craves

tightrope-walk-

over-the-abyss-

recklessness

90-mile-an-hour

drives-down-dirt-roads

Back-alley

open-mouthed-kisses

in-a-thunder-storm

There is wire in…

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beginning the equation of betrayal.

from ari…

Fallen Alone

i hold the sky like a jilted lover
i’ve been seeing behind your back,
in stolen gasps,
that you fail to comprehend today.

it never looks at me any more than you do-
almost as if it’s too hard
to keep pretending to care when you don’t;

almost as if it’s too easy
to let go of the quiet silences that
slipped between the lines of our palms,
when march came rolling in like a martyr
to our february mistakes.

there were a lot of those-
regrets we carefully disguised under
the careless slurring of
alcoholic lies.

we still haven’t begun counting-
you and i.
we still can’t bring ourselves to just
begin.

••ari purkayastha

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On Muses-Candice Louisa Daquin/The Feathered Sleep

from candice louisa daquin

Muse you are an unwanted thing

coming as moth must be drawn unwillingly

for whom of us longs to be captured by the light

denying us rest?

for in the grey of our self-imposed exile

we know no disturbance

our affection is metered and paid for each day

by a short stack of coins all bronze and safe

securing our space in certain harbor

as little boats will never attempt

glorious journeys

but of course there are those unbidden times

like a storm out of the West devours best intent

cutting down our resistance

stark against your person

if you didn’t do anything but exist

it would still hurt

like beauty can make a man cry

unconsciously we dream of ideals

moving in hymn with that part of us

that can be held to the light and fractured

you know my song

before I know my own

emotion

I see…

View original post 473 more words

those who shout

shout.jpeg

shout to the lord
with your tears and your triumphs,
your greatness and grief,
your shocks and your shadows,
your loss and your liveliness,
your treasures and treacheries,
your pain and your parties
your glee and your gloom,
your merriment, your misery
your felicity, your feuding,
your bleakness and brooding,
your joys and your jadedness,
your hope and your hopelessness,
your elation and emptiness,
your bliss and your brokenness.
shout them all out
to his ear
and he’ll hear.

black sky

poet in chair.jpeg

meet me on the rooftops at midnight,
when the birds snooze
and the drunks stagger down below.
walk up to the sky with me,
to the blackness
that doesn’t care
and cannot touch you.
i’ll sit and write though no words come –
when you are there.
when you sit under the clouds with me,
just blank words fall,
all of my creation lost in the world of you.
tread my troubled track
after me,
trace those tracks i’ve tripped into the ground
and know that they won’t bounce back.
wait a while –
wait on the top step,
remember that this place is my flight-path to freedom
and my getaway garden.
put your records in my head
but i won’t hear them,
i haven’t the will to bear that burden.
put your paws against my pain
but you won’t feel,
so let me write and reveal.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/06/7c/21/067c21761f6693dc1ceb415e2e8f16a7.jpg

leave the light on
in the corridor, to guide me.
while i have no way of knowing
what this evening’s soul will bring,
some solace can be found
in knowing you are in.