Let the sky fall on my head, down through the savage ravage page tattered battered stone age ragged flayed dogged rage–don’t take my quarrel
Tag Archives: imagination
I keep calling for this rain
If you quell the pain, prickles remain, and I feel so detached from the past, I could be a stranger in the memories of danger, like they burn a different skin. I wanna heal from the thunder squeal, but my midnight brain plays the game “How can we twist imagination’s eye to warp this pictureContinue reading “I keep calling for this rain”
dream
previous part here *** (trigger warning: this poem discusses child abuse) my dream was to run away and ask a sea god to adopt me. Or maybe a dragon. Maybe, I’d have to trick a demon to trip through a portal in order to prove myself worthy of the land god’s love, or maybe I’dContinue reading “dream”
stories aren’t real
(find the previous part here) *** of course we know stories aren’t real. But we are real (probably) and language is real (for all its holes) and imagination and empathy are real and in the bubbling soup of us, words, and pretend, out comes this flavor of bakery-made meals and warm bread, or maybe tastesContinue reading “stories aren’t real”
No shame, angst, insecurity
no shame, angst, insecurity can come burning this town down, all deadly thoughts, I soak ‘em in sound.
Bruises and Balms
Never trust a gift from a demon, even an old teacher, cuz they’ll do silly things like that, not realizing your head can’t hold up a demon’s weight crawling into space.
Equality
I filled Brisbane with a bunch of trees. Just, transported the whole forest one set of roots at a time. And I didn’t give into my baser instincts and turn them all into people
came to one end, one fury
Slip fire no tide was her name
Dogs
Please, I’m one of the dogs, this time, preaching to the preachy choir about how to start the fire. To hunt after our violent ruler, we must prepare a pact, bind the pack and make our dog hearts wolves
Billiards with Books
The rules are, you slide books across the tile, and knock ’em out the doors to score points on classics, but you lose if you hit out the baby books–why the baby books, who knows
Jordyn Saelor 