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_{Suggested by: AzureNebulae}

_{Featured by: chromeantennae}

metaphysicali. open mouth
i trace the outline of my mouth and
dream prisms of prisons and
scorpion houses.
i fit myself into a box
muscles cramp spasm tear
but it's safer this way.
the bricks of my house are made of chequebooks
i want carnations
on my coffin.
i want carnations
burned at my cremation.
i am a fiery prometheus
a dying devil's desperate daughter
i am alive! alive! alive!
refocus the telescope, refocus the wreck into
something
a little more
manageable
(breath comes easy here, it's everything else that's hard)
ii. closed mouth
i'm saying, are you there?
i'm saying, are you listening?
i'm saying, look at the house we built, look at my ragged fingernails, look at the sky.
you're saying, look at the carnations.
you're saying, look at the roses, look at the [small talk]
i'm saying, let's have a conversation
you're saying, yes, let's talk about the weather.
i'm saying, i think i might be dying.
(oxygen is a luxury i can't afford)

metaphysical by scheherazades

_{Featured by: betwixtthepages}

corn mazes made of inkI.
sometimes I remember I
wrote poetry before you,
will write poetry
after
you,
am writing poetry
after you.
II.
this is the part I've been dreading:
uncovering black-ink skeletons
from dust and desiccated veins.
here ran rain in rippled
rainbows across
silhouetted promises—
set them against the sky,
tattered leaves of night's blood edging
the maze, our maze,
something like the inside of hearts or the outside
of encroaching dusk.
i'll wait for them to wither
away, away
from here and me and thirsting loamy soil.
III.
sometimes I just
stand in your room,
sometimes I don't touch anything, I just
pretend that someone's here.
IV.
what is the difference
in four miles or four thousand?
they both taste of absinthe and bitter
promises and emptiness
and some curves like corners, like crossroads,
like a maze made only of dead
ends and cobwebs shaped like words.
if I line every leaf
with fragments of us, there will be
nothing left to string together
to the end,
nothing together
to escape.
V.

corn mazes made of ink by SycamoreSea

_{Featured by doodlerTM}

:thumb389205745:

Coffee with the Devil by DeniseCroy

_{Featured by: OfOneSoul}

Lazarus me, Laurence     He knew my brain was dying--that me, as a human, would not stand the poisonings of my own fluids and the dysfunction of my organs. I knew this was going to happen, and I tried to explain it to him: Death is inevitable. Man or machine, your existence will come to an end because nothing of this world will last; there is a time for everything. But the poor machine abducted me as soon as my vitals went awry and sped me to the temple of metal creation, (it wasn't really a temple or place of prayer, but rather a supposed origin of true metal life). He snatched me up even with all my family in the room. I could hear them order and protest, but he had a schematic of a plan in his silicon brain and chose to follow it.
      I was scared when I was dying. I wasn't scared of death--I knew where I was going--I was scared of my family remembering me as the inadequate drooling on a bed, brain fried for no known reason. I didn't want them to remember me like that.
&

Lazarus me, Laurence by RobotProphet

_{Featured by Malintra-Shadowmoon}

Unchained - French Poetry by Pathea

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_{Prepared by: betwixtthepages}