the waving curtains by frightenthelittlesin, literature
Literature
the waving curtains
Distant bowls
Overflowing
With shards of
White lace.
They’d have attached
A harlequin’s mask
To the tissue of moonlight
And made it a golem,
If they only could.
No matter how many
Layers of gloves
You wear – the lace
Will always touch
Your silken skin.
Somehow
You’ll always feel
Like being sheltered
By the eternal number
28 and the golem’s
Cold gold.
Honeycombs made of ugly documentarists' cries by frightenthelittlesin, literature
Literature
Honeycombs made of ugly documentarists' cries
Thought I could put up
Some walls
To escape the maternal drain.
A wall to shelter me
-Or us - or them
From slumbers that are
Falling from the ceiling
Like bats
Or falling
Upon the people like a
Swarm of bees
(Pulling us up and smashing us down.)
I couldn’t even say
Habibi in a way that
Was acceptable to you –
Just as my dancing failed
To create triangular circles.
We used to walk
Those certain planes,
Used to call the delinquent
Narcissists foul flowers.
Feel the bees in your throat
Now. I hope they sting.
(The flat isn’t empty anymore)
Motivation from revenge
Is not needed. Be tasted
By their greedy little mouths &ndas
One who treads alone by frightenthelittlesin, literature
Literature
One who treads alone
I don’t know who I am.
I was looking at some old photographs
And now I am lost
Between being carried to bed
Like a ghost
And stumbling down the stairs
To reach the north.
I was told there would be
Nordic lights in the sky
Like fingers, reaching up
To the emerald green universe.
The stars are no longer
Holes in a great curtain,
That is severing the Creator
From the ants.
There are fairies guiding
My dreaming words to
Their graves, a flock of
Cloud-sheep and the
Mighty teapot-dragon
Are beside my nest
To bite through the rungs
Of the ladder.
I am looking at pictures of me
But there is no ME
-Only a strange girl-
Already misfitting un
The truth is
I have been sitting in front of the
Window for all my life,
Listening to my drumming heart
And wondering about the dog
Or why he thinks
That his distant barking
Could frighten the storm.
Here it is:
Thunder – 21 – 22 – 23 – 24 – flash
Waiting.
Wait for the yellow
Accumulation of clouds
To shout my name again.
21
22
23
Flash
It feels like a meteorological x-ray.
Expect to see
My windbitten bones.
Thunder – 21 – 22 – blaze
I nearly hope
To see scorched flesh
And maybe
Some open fractures.
Thunder.
Twenty-one.
FLASH.
Will you not bury
This torch in my chest?
Maybe
It will
Fina
In the morning I'll be singing
Alleluia, Alleluia
but tonight I am thankful
for only you, and the way
you move against me, both of us pretending
I am still the moon of your life,
my sun and stars -
and that is exactly what you are,
so bright against the emptiness
and darling, so far --
But if this alcohol dream
is a spaceship painted
in the bluest blue there ever was
and made of universes and transatlantic static
I'll fly to you and speak
the truths I am not brave enough to say,
but even peso-bill poetry
won't make me brave enough to face the music -
you've sustained one too many battle wounds,
and I will be screaming
into
There’s and old sign
I saw in a lonely and dark road
“Death awaits you” – it said
As human beings didn't already know their fate
It’s a mystery…
Darkness surrounds our essence
But hope manages to rise from above
It’s a balance game taking place in the underworld
And, perhaps, that’s the reason why light never gets to win
You see, insanity empowers from its origins
Our hearts, our sources of purity and hope
Our souls which are destined to perish
Who can we fear but ourselves?
Its unnatural and hard to understand
The way we can meet the end while wandering in the land of the living
Death awaits
Running. It's the middle of the night and I'm running as fast as I possibly can, as far away as I can from the horror behind me.
I reach a fence: steel cables connected to wooden posts, separating the busy street behind me from the yellowed field ahead. The long grasses, blown by the winds coming from my right, create a golden, though dull ocean laying below the dark, but punctured canvas above. An ocean that seems ongoing, but is cut off by a border of sturdy trees to my left.
From inside the fence, a girl is running towards me through the mass of gold. A bright smile upon her lips, happy to see me. She's wearing a dress that flows behin
Every twenty-one days, one vessel out of millions traveling through driftspace—that can be a little Aldebaran cargo ship hardly big enough to haul a grain of salt from earth to one of their tiny meteorite home worlds, or a Guludeb generation ship the size of Manhattan and carrying several thousand passengers—is wrecked by slipstop.
Slipstop is an unexplained phenomenon. Its regularity is entirely inexplicable and may suggest an intentional flaw in driftspace placed by its now long-extinct godlike creators. No sentient organism is known to have survived slipstop, even though the damage to vessels can range from nonexistent to ca
I run, each breath coming out raggedly. I'm terrified. Rain pours overhead, heavily, weighing me down, and I begin to cry. I stop.
"No, Skylar, we have to keep going." Anthony, pulls me by the arm, the visage of a wild thing overtaking his features. "They'll catch up to us if we don't."
"I don't know if I can do this anymore." I sob, clutching what part of him I can. I avoid his eyes. I know he's disappointed in my weakness.
"Please, Skylar."
I look up into his face and I see him almost smile. A strengthening smile.
There's a rumbling behind us and we both turn. A scream once buried in my throat bursts.
"Alright!
Silhouettes stained the sidewalk;
They're right under the surface.
Focus lost on the sick site,
While fire leaks out the headlights.
Colors streaming the dark.
They always could get by
Dreaming back to the start.
You act just like a nurse;
Burning needles.
No, we're not gonna reverse;
Turning riddles.
Plastic melts panic in pills as
Wireless brains recoil.
Infected eyes look to paralyze;
Let the maggots eat you alive.
Skull ridden with good times.
We'll bake in the sunlight
And try to mirror this life.
You act just like a nurse;
Burning needles.
No, we're not gonna reverse;
Turning riddles.
Somethi