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@iciclelamington
Play.
Your hands are always busy restlessly wandering frets of guitars and over the white bones of keyboards.
You have this knack to master and move on.
I offer you this; that people are not so simple they cannot be learned and played by the same dexterity there are no sharps and flats
They form infinite, wondrous chords. Take your time to hear them.
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low
Today I saw a post
From someone who had decided she would end it
And so she ate meat for the first time in years
As her final meal.
But when the moment came, she couldn’t do it
And now she hates herself in a whole new way.
Today I sat staring at the
Tiny black hairs dotted on my legs
Willing them to grow into a forest
And thread into my mattress
It has been five days since I shaved
And three days since I showered
My body weight will melt into the carpet
And my thoughts will slowly quieten
Like a radio with reception fading in and out
It is not easy to go onwards
With so much despair
That hangs in the clouds outside my windows.
Having Fun Without Drugs; a Short Story:
You enter the mdma room at the party. You know this is the mdma room because someone slurring mentioned "this is the mdma room" on the way to smoke pot with the stoners on the front porch. You feel slightly satisfied that the party is so organised in terms of its drug categories.
In the room, everyone is in pairs or threes, lounging on a mattress on the floor, holding hands and stroking each other's faces. Except for one guy who is on his own, smiling vaguely and stroking his own face. You sit next to a trio of young women. The age demographic is anywhere between 18 and sir I don't quite know how you are friends with so many young people. They are looking deeply into each other's eyes and talking about each other's bright futures. You wonder who will die first in the room. You smile at the young women and nod knowingly. This is when you see the pizza. Hells, with vegan cheese, and olives. You pick up a slice. You feel it's weight in your hands. It is clear that the bodies in the room have transcended the need for material nourishment. You, however, are tied to your mortal coil. You take the opportunity to select a second slice as someone comments about a terrible on and off boyfriend "he is just such a Scorpio". The room in unison seem to agree and attention is drawn away from your hands that are literally dripping with pizza. You stand, unsure what more you can contribute to a conversation which seems to have landed on all the bad characteristics of someone who is a Gemini rising. Nobody seems to have noticed that you are holding a solid $6 worth of pizza. You take this opportunity to make it for the door, dodging the smokers who are just starting to enter the munchie stage and make it to your fellow kind, the binge drinkers, who are passing out tequila and dancing violently to "come on Eileen". The pizza is still warm in your hands, vegan cheese melting on your tongue as you rock from side to side to the music. You are sure someone at some point from the previous room will come up to you, put a hand on your shoulder and warmly ask what you are doing nabbing all that food. But nobody does. You are left to your inner peace; just you, and the pizza.
You are not a summers day melting in the rain you are a river that runs in all seasons that softens stones that houses life that by the very merit of your nature breaks and creates environments.
Let the rain fill you and pass through as you are not the fleeting murmur of a lovesick poet you are iron and bones you are thunder an tearing vocal chords
We think of rivers as veins that run through our land rivers drown cities and are unforgiving. Summer, is simple. You are constantly changing You are dynamic and strange.
Walking through Kaiwharawhara The wind flips the bird Both literally, and figuratively A thrush splats against a building window As the wind hollers "Fuck you, Wellington! No flights are coming in tonight!"
It's lucky that this place has mana Cos the weather is shite.
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My stippling skin receives Cold palms of water Massage me away.
He tells me they had a fight Bleary eyed Already he's drunk and high Back to the grind Of synth and metronome it's quiet at home. He says they'll be alright With a smile that's tight round the eyes.
Bugs crawl out of pores in skin Heavy and encumbered With tales that have no end That spin like a spider web over downcast eyes They scream like banshee Burrowing into clothes Wriggling between fingers and into joints of bones Plunging into the skull.
He has had nightmares again. The medicine makes him sleep But festering hairy insect legs still scrape against the back of his eyeballs. If they are dead why are they still moving? He goes to school that day Smokes a durry out back And tries to listen The teacher thinks he's inattentive And tells him he's a waste of her time.
The bugs love it, and cackle all the way home.
I want to make it more meaningful than it is
But it is just a scarf Hanging off the door knob Which means you came here to bring it to me, then left without telling me.
It smells like it's been in the backseat of a warm car for months.
You haven't texted back I doubt you will.
It was you and me against the rest of the world, baby
until it was you against yourself.
You have been lost to me ever since.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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be with me! he cries out yearning for love. the unfairness, that he has not been given what he wants! he has loved her so selflessly (he calls her judgmental for not trying) so endlessly (he tells her he wishes he never met her) so purely (he fucks other women and thinks of her).
he doesn’t want much. just match his undying, sexual, possessive feelings. he doesn’t need a lay straight away but it’s on the cards; facedown on a cold table top. he wants you all to himself. no more dreaming of others no more moving restlessly and earnestly it’s not a b i g ask
so he pleads of her, again and again “couldn’t you just give this a chance?”
Some will simply look at flowers some will draw them reconstruct them or dissect them. Some will steal them from their beds to give to lovers some will pluck them and let them fade in a sterilized room next to cups of tea and bleached paper. Some will trample them twisting and s p l i n t e r i n g stems of green. Some will give them to patients watching them both expire at the same rate. Some will have no interest at all except for the monetary value of such a commodity.
I play games with you in my mind I don’t know why it’s more than just staving off boredom (or is it) I digress, I doubt myself. Of the 9 men I visited I’d kissed 7 of them (a magic number). You are a tease a mouth I can’t achieve.
it’s one of the few things we shared; this deep, yawning, unending sadness that pulled down on our bones and I don’t know if I want to move on from this remaining part of you.
it’s late. walking to the bus with a plastic bag filled with empty tupperware and a bag slung over one shoulder filled with unused notebooks and chocolate wrappers my mind wander to you. what are you doing right now? what is your normal Tuesday night?
ears cold in the wind I vaguely wonder if you’ve put on weight too soft tummies for winter from wine out of chipped mugs
the cars stream past the wind sings on and my mind wanders to other matters.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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you rest your head on my shoulder you smell of red wine and sweat and despair my hands on your rib cage you are so thin. we take our time with this tremulous connection. we don’t kiss, but it doesn’t matter. you are so precious. you can’t even imagine.
Teach me the things I did not know about my desires.
I am not used to this feeling. Heart shaped face in my hands with no facial hair I feel so much closer small mouth little pink tongue tentatively touching the edge of my teeth.
This was not what I was expecting from tonight but god, does it feel good.
I have learned about hard lines but not about curves I feel clueless with your body but you seem to find it endearing? We end the night wearing a mix of each others’ lipsticks.
I write poems on the bus. I find love letters in my inbox.