Hfeather53

you weigh something like gravity in my tired expanse. you are sand; (my once splendid mountain) my love is the ocean that has worn you down. with my monstrous tongue, i pulled you in. as you fall, sweeping peacefully into the depths and filling each crevice, i am learning to inhale shores. some would say i'm suffocating and bring me buckets of air (only to have it escape my slippery grip). no, the tides need something heavy to make of her a home.

cut me. press your metal into my spine. thread it gracefully along my insides and out the nape of my neck. twirl it gently (don't hurt yourself) around my skin. boast proudly, how you shaped me, how you spun me in your arms, how you affixed my gaze upright... how you made me look so perfect while i slowly turned and died.

i know of a sparrow that fell in love with the sea; she makes her bed in pockmarked rocks along the shore. fluttering atop depressions' peaks, she sings grace for calloused feet and her strong beak. the ocean has a siren's call made of waves spilling and filling each boulder-bowl (too shallow to swim and not nearly enough to drink). it beckons, "taste of me and thirst for life." sparrow finds her fever pitch and pecks its notes into her wings as feathers line the beach. it was spring when waters sprang to free her from the sky, after she'd learned what she could loving from the outside.

fuck if i want to be here today. another no one special in another nothing special of a town. i wonder if my grandfather would be sad to see what it's become; because even though it holds our family's name there is nothing left of and for us here. i'm reminded of the parable of the prodigal son and i wonder why everyone in my family relates me to him when it is clearly my father and his father that have run away from what was promised and left untended soil for us here (in another's name). "when we want something there is no halfway for us," he said to me; and though he was right i won't admit it loud enough for him to hear. my father ran af

I am the wayward child. Tacking on wings months too late; our legs didn't break - Fate gave me a flower; snowflakes and granite by any other name. Oh, gravity, I am home. Your eyes of forests, branching away. Defeathered, dust settling; if you don't see it, you can never walk away. Battle on the bridge, your skin under mine - tunnel of feathers. Wildflowers, imperfect birds, butterflies - he will have cause to regret; Icarus. It wasn't a mistake, plucking featherweight regret. The hapless harpy curls, learning to fall. Who carries your weight? Cleave, white coffin collar bone, I see the light of home again; firefly skin. The caged bird sc

there you go again thrashing about in your cage but it's mine these bones you bend and hollow underneath my breasts i squish i press in vain attempts to evict you but your dirty spores have infected my lungs they've hung their shit-filled habits in the rooms of my chest in these narrow halls i detest i throw myself into walls and pray to the god of concrete but all that secretes is blood

Grace mouths a four letter word and a slew of yeses hiss past her teeth; this is the way you prefer to see her - eyes closed, mouth open in some sloppy drunk-on-love state, with her heart coloring outside the lines of her face and a curve to her spine as if forming a bowl to say, "fill me." And you try... But how many coins does it take to fill a wishful abyss? "Penny for your thoughts," you jest as you chuck another at her face... Grace is beaten - she smells of a whorish slot machine and she is tired of playing bloody knuckles with the walls. But as you toss another coin in her direction your loving jukebox decides she's graceful enough

I need to find the end game content and the castle's nowhere in sight look, there's the bridge

Gemini, i've found it - the missing weight from my every valley, that was pulled from me while i was unborn. "Abducted," i'll say, travelling back through spirit-lands to watch our beginning, to witness our once-upon-a-whole. i've fallen into lightless quiet. As i begin to breathe, i feel a pressure released from my ears and i can hear a cadence of concurrent blooms. A gentle buzz hums along, carried by the scent of begging blossoms' celestial seed, and i dare to look; removing one finger, then two, then ten from my prying eyes to see us there. We are feathered and flowered. Our thorny bird-bones have no gaps and our mahogany-skin is unblem

can i tell you all my secrets? can i whisper things others would shout? how many times do you think i'll write about the boulder in my belly before it's finally dislodged and slinks out? do you think about me often? do you imagine duct tape on my mouth? does my incessant clawing at your deadweight make you smile? the thing that you've sown is bigger than me feel it nest see it squirm the hollow expands as your seed weighs heavy and rips open my chest your threads of poison oak will weave their way around my open frame and our disease and make a basket of my living carcass to bear a gift upon the world