sarahlucillemarchant: frozen underwater organs trapped mid-pulsation but truth radiates beyond obstacles, overcoming inconceivable odds, and makes its resting place at your side no matter what logic claims, science has no power over this foreign force, this magnetism darling, though our hearts are scarcely beating we continue drowning in gravity-defying love
Joshua Robert Long: How To Watch a Deer Get Hit By... →
joshuarobertlong: My entire drive home I was trying to place whether it was seventeen or eighteen. In my gut it seems that eighteen would be more in the right. At this point all of my friends had finally graduated from high school. They had that sort of shimmy to them, I probably had it too, but mine was all burnt up and buried in the side of the hill. Nineteen seems a little too gone and...
sarahlucillemarchant: you don’t know my name anymore sometimes it streams through you while you are asleep and you wake in the night with it clogging you throat, but it’s pressed out soundlessly, stifled in mouthed syllables so maybe it will appear that you never even knew me somehow you feel my presence lurking in your bones though you claim that I forced entry with pleas for understanding...
Forward Ruminations on a Porch in Spring
I was on the front porch, watching the snow angel take shape when she asked me. The truth is, I think I got used to it a long time ago, but her eyes made me forget everything, or, in their shining sincerity, made me want to forget more than I wanted to. But all I could think, was that you should be the one here, explaining that snow angels cannot weep in January or February, but...
sarahlucillemarchant: is it too much to ask for me to be enough for you? just once, I’d like to prove myself. just once, I’d like you to admit I’m right. - you know I am made of hastily-finished spider webs and autumn rain; without any prompting at all, I am able to destroy myself. my ribcage folds into itself like paper trapped in the eye of a hurricane and your screams cannot reach me over...
No one knows nothing: Just a gleam... →
nooneknowsnothing: The world read each word and clapped high; but you never realized that every metaphor was a declaration of my heart to your heart. Despite I’m young at love nothing can stop this rhymes I thought, or the way I feel when I imagine you real. What can I do? Should I stay silent or…
No one knows nothing: No time, no rhyme →
nooneknowsnothing: Time is what it is I can’t hold it all! ‘Cause my hands are full of me… what a shame I am, what horrible human I am. I can’t think in you, I can’t live for you, I just can’t focus myself on you. I’m finding my center and that’s a hard work. But you’re full of you,…
Upon Waking (Act II)
thegreatestactor: you stir; your eyelids: the rising curtain; your breath: the swells of the orchestra; your gaze: the world of the stage; and I am but: the actor and my heart: a violinist
thegreatestactor: I was thinking about you again late last night, my legs drawn apart by the magnetics of an empty room, always reaching for refashioned memories that unwind muscles (so tight) through the ebb and through the flow; through the shadows of another moon.
Joshua Robert Long: Between Vintage & Old (You) →
joshuarobertlong: there is no barrier between vintage and old I remember you there were tears while on the toilet and we argued with each other about love and I sat clutching the wall between the floor and the shower there was always so much hair in the drain you just sat there on the toilet crying tearing and streaking across the walls there was no love left inside of you or maybe there was no...
Joshua Robert Long →
joshuarobertlong: FOLLOW THE TRAIN.
cotardtheliving: On gin nights when I fade from awareness like a dial turned slowly to the left, the dreams shake me. Our limbs separate from us, and go hard like widow children throwing rocks into abandoned buildings. In bed we make a Civil War portrait, pale and damp with blue-gray jackets to protect us from the rain that falls sideways across concrete walls, as if it were wax dripping...
clintirwin: It was a war where it was believed that it took the passion of artists to win; the bombs had other plans. Fascists were never going to fall to artists or passion. What we needed in Spain were professional soldiers, but was there ever another war that could be called “romantic,” at least until the killing got under way? Wasn’t it all such fun before we knew we would lose, betrayed...
The Greatest Actor: Fata Morgana →
thegreatestactor: It was my luck. A couple of beers in and in walks the man of my dreams. I’m coy. And I’m never coy after a couple of beers in, so I buy another drink thinking it will loosen me up some. But there’s this hold he has over me, his confidence, something laughing, something missing and I stare (but it’s more like I’m
How to Tell Time
cotardtheliving: There is a shadow on the wall now where grandfather’s clock used to hang. In February the keys stopped winding and the hands were made absent by the hourless chimes that gasped from the wallpaper like drowning men. In my head I hear every false tick like a phantom limb and feel gouged by the minutes that just aren’t there. The repairman estimates another two months, ...
nooneknowsnothing: We are are mortals that live to love, not to buy. But we strive so hard but we work so much running behind a progress that ends the day we die. We forget how to feel; a hand inside our shoulders or a breath that touches deep and down our sleeping voices. Open your eyes take a sight of your enviroment and then do. Do what you can in orden to save us from the...
Two-hundred and Six Bones
clintirwin: If you happen to be the average bag of two-hundred and six bones, your parents most likely tried to pack you into styrofoam and hoped you would get shipped through life without breaking any one of them. Some bones break and they heal just fine, others will leave you damaged for the rest of your life. Some parents had something pretty serious broken during shipping, maybe one of the...
Polite Dinner Conversation
Your brain is bleed- ing out onto the table, out through your ears or your eyes and over the stain the coffee left last September. The lines on your face (twitch- ing smile, fold- ing eyelids) tell me that the pain is black. Now, your head falls, thunk muted slightly by the pool- ing fatality (finality, inevitable finality), and I push my chair back in, clear my throat, straighten my...
Reasons to write
nooneknowsnothing: There is a fact stuck inside the root of my bones. Something I can’t just hide and let it go. I have a hard hunch in my soul, a firm beat in my heart, a bell in my head ringing like an echo in a big church! Every piece of the puzzle fits, when the pupil of your eye comes to my memories and float clearly over my forehead. It’s so hard to explain in a word, in a sentence, in a...
am.biguously transparent: on loving someone who... →
ambiguous-transparency: When the jazz sings for icy blue on the corner where the streetlight used to glow, you feel the tried gasps digging for a tombstone in sync with the way the words failed to be heard. Your race against time is already your loss, and the piano keys slump beneath your fingers in concur with the desperation. I just wanted you to know that you’re absolutely...
am.biguously transparent: a simple letter to a... →
ambiguous-transparency: And I know that deep down your throat, there lies your soul eating away the dust. The lyrics you sing shouldn’t be this sad but I think it’s the darkness in the waves because the Venice sunset didn’t do your beauty justice and all you’re left with is a broken boat tucked away at the bay. I…
No one knows nothing: Say it out loud →
nooneknowsnothing: How much love can you handle inside your palms? Did you ever feel your chest full of fire, desire or lust? I question your existence in my little little thoughts. I question and question but I can’t find your word. Did your ever feel compasion for a stone? It so hard when you touch…
nooneknowsnothing: I keep writting about you with no reason at all. I keep waiting your letters, instead of letting you go. I must see my eyes by myself, feel my skin and understand, that I must love my pieces first to complete the puzzle in my head.
Flying a Kite with You
thegreatestactor: so s o o s o o o s o o o o o s o o o s o o so v e r y b o r i n ...
The Trollop's Quill
clintirwin: Thus we discover him in a squalid attic, which is perched like a grotesque carrion bird atop a house of assignation in streets where charnel souls, abandoned of providence, mill about for a crust of bread, preyed upon by ruffians, who would blanch the heart of the Devil himself; there we find him, gibbering, seedy, matted, soiled, raving manifestos at insolent flies, reeking of...
cotardtheliving: Sunday mornings, she’d stand in the lighted doorway and ask me how I’d take my coffee. I remember this, like many things that haven’t happened; the image is yellow, and curls at the edges, like a burned scrap of paper. In the spring she was afraid to drop in on me far enough that I could see beyond the silhouette that teetered on the wall like an open flame, beside the hutch ...
nooneknowsnothing: No words can explain how we lose the game, or why we suffer for months, crying oceans in the end. No hands can repair the holes we make, or the things we say when we are living the same. No mouth can save all my verses tonight… No eyes can read the grief I hold behind. Nothing can be done, time is in its way; lights hide at nigth and shadows live my days.
The Country of Awesome
thecrackhaus: This is part of an ongoing series…To read from the beginning, click here. The country of Awesome was founded on a random night in 2001 by a bunch of drunken punk rockers when we decided the few acres of land we were occupying for Jackie’s grandparents had attained sovereignty. We didn’t always call it Awesome, but once we came up with the name, we realized it had been hidden in...
am.biguously transparent: Spelling out... →
ambiguous-transparency: Spelling out vulnerability on my nervous fingers does not make me the stronger person and I am very sorry if I broke your heart in the middle of the night, whispered laughter screaming hollow. Your name is imbued on my tongue, rosy happiness smeared heavenly on my cheeks. The spring flowers cry gloom under the clouds today but I wonder if
am.biguously transparent: This all started when I... →
ambiguous-transparency: This all started when I spoke in trembles in the corners behind the dumpsters counted bruises like they were the alphabet, the glory of refusing to know rotting on my teeth. (I could be loved, too.) I like my fractured sense of humor because it helps me stand up even while being the fool and I took everyone’s unhappiness, stapled it on my heart like a name tag and...
pedanticpersiflage: Mike Hilbig sits down to write a story about Mike Hilbig writing a story. Not even one line in, he has already gotten up from the chair twice. He paces. This is not unusual when he writes or when he refuses to write with the word processor file open. With the cursor blinking black on blank white. He smokes when he’s not pacing, and sometimes he smokes while he’s...
Drawing Madness: A Tragicomedy in ___ Acts
Harold Juniper a boy Act One On a subway platform. Juniper is playing acoustic guitar on a bench. She begins to strum, pauses, and then adjusts her capo. She strums again, pauses, and removes it. She strums again, pauses, and puts it back on the same fret. She strums again, pauses, and removes it. She strums, pauses and looks at her guitar, and returns the capo....
Every Woman on Earth is a Superhero
sundaynightat8on: I am a sidekick and women are heroes, saving the world, one world at a time. How could I hope to make a duo fit to save these streets? I don’t have X-Ray eyes or super strength like every girl I meet.
Blood of the Behemoth
sundaynightat8on: The lights die on the giant’s hide. I become lice, hiding, clinging to wire hair. Ice air stings me, and cradles the creature. Night stirs the blood of the behemoth. My own bursts forth, painting my flesh, freezing. Arteries beat to the heart of a beast, out of the valley, of the coal black below.
am.biguously transparent: Won’t you watch the... →
ambiguous-transparency: Won’t you watch the sunset with me the accumulation of sadness plowing over the fatally-bent spine; the painful wonder is beautiful and tearfully happy. The world does not know geometry, and you don’t know coincidence. Everything is destined and one is fated; the sun is destined to rise and fall, it is fated to the horizon. You are the Different One and I am...
kissthebrida: The Noosery When your teeth turned into tampered syringes and your cheeks hollowed out and chapped, you opened up a mom and pop shop next to the pharmacy: The Noosery. Welcoming all walks of life; the bent-backed, apple-cheeked, the man with the Heineken gut, the kid whose wisdom that haven’t grown in yet. You knotted a noose that fits into pocketbooks, for people who wanted to...
cotardtheliving: When the final drops grow cold with waiting, for the phone that does not ring, and the car that does not come, and the wave that does not break, in tired, sighing parentheses, crisis stirs. Your lips left their mark on everything here; not just on the windowpane, where goodbyes abate in forced laughter, or on my collarbone, where the contiguous bone flutters out in...
ambiguous-transparency: I’m falling in your lovely grace, the delicacy draped on your skin and I know we are going to survive because you are the knight to my distress. My affection for you is what blissfully intoxicates you. Your peaceful slumber hangs on my fingers that yearn for you.
The Greatest Actor: Mixtape 08.28.07 →
thegreatestactor: I remember when you told me about the first time you fell in love: Dolores O’Riordan of the Cranberries when you were in middle school. We were lying in bed, and I held your hand while your absent eyes searched for a memory somewhere beyond the ceiling of the bedroom. I remember holding tighter
am.biguously transparent: And when you finally... →
ambiguous-transparency: And when you finally find the courage to find love within your heart, I hope you believe him when he says he loves you more than anything. When the scars that decorate you start to thaw like one-hit wonder lyrics, I hope you don’t push him away because his love scares you; he is your set…
the truth about those who told me you were gone: →
ambiguous-transparency: The waterfalls cried for me when they told me you were too cold to touch. I wanted to fold up the sheets and throw them in their acidic sympathy because they don’t understand the loss, they don’t speak the language of pain. I heard your heart freeze. It sounded like a fire alarm going off in my head and I wrote a confession with the hand I held you last, ...
ambiguous-transparency: He left me no love for regrets too many scars for happiness and sometimes when I walk through the windy knives, I can hear the hushed prayers that I cried deep inside my thorny graveyard throat, voice quickly deteriorating in my hollow windpipes. To you: Deceit was your virtue but forgiveness was not mine. I wonder, here and there, if you remember how my...