you keep alive a moment at a time

there’s a field of poppies at the edge beyond everything,and in it michael sitting with his cough syrup redwings and his muddied army boots and his mouthfull of thorns where the teeth should be.

you stumble up to him, damp human feet, callousedhuman hands. you have seen stars and stars and starson your way here, but none of it compares to howyou feel the ache in your neck beginning to dissipate.

michael gestures, take a seat, so you do beside him.the flowers smell like they did on earth, clean, sun-warm,but the wind here sings. you say, i didn’t think i’d beallowed to make it this far. michael smiles, his mouth

jagged yet sweet: you can go farther if you like.i know there’s at least one man in the place beyondall places who would gladly clasp your shoulders, kissyour cheek, and tell you that you were worth the pain

the god who banquets by himselfis not my god

i like my jesus ungilded, full of the hunger-ache,with blood on his knuckles& bruises on his ribs,holding the ice pack & his survivallike emblems

don’t give my god rubies, just patienceenough to make it throughthis night & every night in millennia

for if the body is parentheses,then the heart reads, we are alwaysbecoming, reads, i have fashioned myselffrom dust in exactly this way& i am perfect

when he touches you for the first time,you will be soft as the inside of a heart& you will be burning, not in the way of firebut in the way of dusk, your body so heavyyour soul reaches for the sky–

you expect him to arrive in a specterof pink marble & gold paint, but his lipsare chapped, his brown hands humanlyblistered. he says, my dear son,& just like that the words tumblepeach-ripe off your tongue:

my fears are so sharp god i worrythey’ve become fangs & i don’t knowhow to breathe in the mornings & godwhat if they hurt me & oh whatwill be done with my soul my soul my–

he cups your face in his palms. his skinis blood-hot & he smells of rosemary.my wondrous man, i can feel eachvibration of the electrons in your atomsright now. when i built this immenseuniverse from helium & nitrogen i washolding the shape of your true name

Scandinavian apartment

Scandinavian attic apartment

Larry Stylinson Fanfic at Larry!Monument, Jerwood Visual Arts, London, 2016

Produced by Owen G. Parry (Fan Riot)

Performers:

Harry Styles - Matt Maguire

Louis Tomlinson - James Phipps

Image: Hydar Dewachi

#Larry #domestic #fluff #Harrycontrolling #Louisbottom #performance AU

Aries: The sun filters through the leaves, yet it only seems to obscure the path ahead. You feel as if you shouldn’t be here.

Taurus: A valley covered in shade. The area is famous for the cave systems that run deep beneath. The plants that grow here are a pasty white, their roots spill from the caves.

Gemini: The overgrown remnants of a highway. Rusted cars sit overflowing with reeds. There isn’t another road for miles. The cars all seem to be postwar models.

Cancer: Rivers and earthquakes tore the land in two. The forest didnt mind, it simply started growing sideways, sinking its roots into the cliffside. 

Leo: The sun is setting. As the full moon rises over the pines you can hear something over the crackle of the fire. Its the distinctive horns of Curtis Mayfield’s Move On Up. You are never seen again.

Virgo: The mountain village buried by an avalanche. The only thing visible are the tin smokestacks of buried homes. Sometimes you can still see smoke billowing from them.

Libra: A dusty plateau covered in dry birch trees. Your shoes scuff some dust from the ground to reveal a large linoleum tile. 

Scorpio: Every once in a while people out in the borderlands come across strange trees. The bottom half resembles a knotted oak but as the tree grows it seems to form the shape of an animal clawing at the sky. No two are ever reported alike.

Ophiuchus: The trees here are covered in holes. When the wind blows just right you can hear the whole valley sing. 

Sagittarius: The territory is marked off by brass stakes in the ground. Lightning strikes them when its stormy.

Capricorn: There used to be a church here. The old graveyard still stands. The lost and unclaimed always find a home here. This is a kind place.

Aquarius: You make camp for the night at the edge of a small pond. No fish are biting. Your foot runs across a sharp stone on the bottom. As you tend to the small cut you look into the water. Teeth.

[GUNSHOT] [GUNSHOT]