I am not your little girl No pretty dresses and curls Anymore I am not that little child Who knew of nothing but smiles Evermore The years that have passed Left marks on the past And stained this clear glass Behind the storm blasts Now within a monster dwells Despite such attempts to quell This deluge Now inside there lives a fiend Whose sins cannot be redeemed No refuge The years on this path Have filled it with wrath Seeking a bloodbath Scorn all aftermath But maybe somewhere still That small girl holds the quill...
Black Hole Hunger (or, Edacity) by PoeticEden, literature
Literature
Black Hole Hunger (or, Edacity)
You sprout from the earth like an inverted body,
Your fingers like black ribs erupting from the sides
As the ground concaves,
Falling into itself like a corpse
Succumbing to the call of gravity,
A maw opening wide
To swallow humanity.
The blood of us
Pools around your spiny teeth
And down your pulsating throat,
Shadow congealing like death beneath
The sun,
Cooking,
And the taste of the smell burns up the hairs of my nose
And the lungs from out of my mouth.
Everything implodes,
My body, my mind
The souls of all of those around me degrading into
Soup
At your summons,
Your voice a trap,
A distorted reflection of creation
As you Undo.
Everything
I fear the day I’ll walk past them,
A parade of petrified ashen shadows.
The oblivious, immortalized
And hot to the touch.
Tendrils of smoke, like malnourished limbs
Reach out in anguish.
Silenced in an instant,
But what remains is deafening.
I. The Hunting Party
open-eyed, i traverse
these fever baked miles of sleep,
i navigate its dream,
guided by silt whispered songs
a vibration the length of my veins
every capillary, a conductor
every surface, a receiver
specifically tuned to find you
the hunt never stops
only pauses to feed
at the slip and collapse
the same gore slickened scene
that inevitably ends each chase
and it's only when the fever feeds
that i can almost remember,
the well of light
at the center of a life before,
her name- mine- our-
and it’s all drawn back into fog
as the thirst reengages my senses
and my feet retake to the trail
II. The Takedown
we were over
Hung back and watched it
unravel...
Peering over the balcony
I thought my husband looked
peaceful.
Like the teddy bear I used to imagine
swung back to the gates of hell
then forward up to
heaven,
then back again.
It brought me back —
the top of his head — back
to the good old
days.
i'm under such
heavy water
that nothing above
can pull me out
the failed, severed
arms of evolution
feed the crabs
and lampreys below
i am the spirit
of dark water
my fins cut it
like wings
i offer only
this one-way portal
an infinity's rows
of everything-teeth
so, as the earth slowly
shakes you out
of your trees, holes
and stick piles
as dry land tilts
and heaves you in
our dark, sleepless salts
absorb you
warm blood billows
a cloudy exhaust
trailing down
into the deep
from the jaws and gills
of an alien machine
it dyes this ocean
dark with certainty
i am night's eyes, calculating
two black stars
circling your world,
your land
and the b
infatuation with peter murray by straygod, literature
Literature
infatuation with peter murray
-- lies in her bed. doc bored a hole
in her, drilled a bit deep after
shock rote her thin. vanessa:
keats fucked a darkling brittle,
shrewd another god in you;
choked some lesser god hissing
radio noise, ecstatic.
holding hands, they watched
a devastation and i was only
obsessed.