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the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo
Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire
Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain
bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.
nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.
Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ
Puppet  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.
Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.
HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7
Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.  
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min
A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even
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More from $wreckling

Joseph Sister Helen McCall sat behind a modest wooden desk, her folded hands half-covered by black robes on the desk's surface. Her eyes traced the room carefully, skimming over the plaster gaps in the wallpaper for a sign of something unusual. Once assured the walls were up to par, she looked down to her desk for signs of dirt or dust, lifting the clipboard sitting on the desk and setting it back down. Finding nothing, she took a deep breath and stood up. The wooden chair she had been sitting in rattled against the floor. "He should be here by now.  It's not like him to be this late, I sincerely hope that something hasn't gone wrong."

A light ra
We inhale ashes, the skyWe inhale ashes, the sky

sinking around us as the earth drinks
deep from clouds. Eve is afraid
the sun has been eaten, and that
we will be eaten by the falling sky
so we retreat to caves as cumulus
teeth clench slowly, saliva dripping
into our view one drop at a time.
She and I watch the clear spit
fall faster, more beads breaking
on ground and leaves. Between each
drop is a small gap in time, pauses
followed by moments and pauses
and moments and pauses and
moments we think of escape
before another drop, another
moment. We are too afraid
to leave. "He is crying."
The words come from her, weighted
by cold and mist. It is a
The day has swallowed uslibation bearers drunk
on wind and sunlight and
this darkness unsettles
as mirror light beguiles
in the sky as ants and
one false sun burns cold
in our eyes and blinds
the sky to tears of
blurred sand white

and we are dizzy with
grief for our loss of
the morning, star in
ocean depth and air
reflected in our chests
hollow like this sky
this unfamiliar

and we might sleep to
avoid our own fault
this sky without close
light without day with
outside and this touch

and this strange sensation
discomfort lack of want

and should that sky
return we shall embrace
lovers under an impossible
sign of mercy
The world is exhalingThe world is exhaling
and my eyebrows are ants treading
through patches of leafskin
fragmenting from the veins
as I gather the pressured air
close the atmosphere and breathe
in the space between
AdamI, first feeling this sunken heat, first
scraping this grain desert, first
sitting under verdant walls, I

first touching these rooted crags, first
tripping in the mountain's gloam, first
reaching this brackish fountain, I

first holding the ocean, first
drinking its salt poison, first
sinking to my knees, I

first trying to understand, I

first trying to speak

I

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January 10, 2011
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:iconwreckling:
I'm starting the process of moving my old gallery over here, one piece at a time so I don't flood those of you watching me.

This is one of my favorite poems, as of late. I'm really pleased with how it's turned out. ^nycterent gave me a bit of feedback on it after the fact so I made a few smaller changes, but it's mostly the same here as it was there.
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:iconstuck-in-suburbia:
`stuck-in-suburbia Jan 10, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
How goes the move, btw?
Reply
:iconwreckling:
$wreckling Jan 11, 2011   Writer
It goes slowly, but not too bad! :]
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:iconstuck-in-suburbia:
`stuck-in-suburbia Jan 12, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Excellent. Also, sorry for the unrelated comment.
Reply
:iconwreckling:
$wreckling Jan 21, 2011   Writer
No worries. :lol:
Reply
:iconstuck-in-suburbia:
`stuck-in-suburbia Jan 21, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
New icon? Who is that supposed to be?
Reply
:iconwreckling:
$wreckling Jan 22, 2011   Writer
It's a character named Raiden Hijikata, from a fairly obscure anime called Inazuma Eleven. I really like his character design. :D
Reply
:iconstuck-in-suburbia:
`stuck-in-suburbia Jan 22, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Oh, fair enough.
Reply
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