JackpotPlayer

we're a combination an auspicious pair a mixture, a blend, we're together as one. separation is good for the soul; it helps our realization that we are actually our own person. but it's a painful break. connection through wiring; cut the wire, electricity snapped in two: you get a shortage, a power out; an abyss of darkness. suck me in, swallow me up-- make me whole again. i need the hidden nuances, the mink-furred, dark-eyed subtleties the sparkling circuitry the simple secrecy of working in a duet: we may not sing, but we dance to the moon's shining smile. we are all one, but we are all s e p a r a t e we put ours

i swear you could unzip my ribs and my chest cavity would be hollow except for a heart (to pump anxiety throughout my body) and a stomach (to create pain) organs are useful for nothing except for causing you to scream when they quit working and then stop when they stay that way and all around me i feel this void causing previously-ricocheting emotions to spread into a whimper as if they were never there in the first place

We were Gods Stumbling, stupid Selfish and beautiful Oceans and mountains and rivers of fire We are nothing-much-of-anything                                                         anymore we litter the world with crumpled paper and ink blots tear stained and torn all memories and warped reflections scorched and faded a blank stare I can't quite remember sun

i drape my body into the water and my bones float away from my skin. hipbones jutting like icebergs, the concave of my stomach drowning as water cries down my waterfall-stoned ribs. absolution ripples across stained wrists, delicate kisses pawing clawless as my heartbeat barely touches the water. i wring my eyes and cobweb them shut, clumsily stepping blind from the water. my fingertips curl desperately as i draw my nails down marble, hounding artifice to smother my ruined body. i meticulously fold and wrap the cloth spinning a corset of crosshairs that stifle my lungs of capacity, and others eyes of realisation. tears me

Her heart. Oh, that. She lost it quite some time ago; Perhaps it's behind the refrigerator Caked in dust, or Dropped under the dresser To make friends with earring backs and post-its With sweet nothings scribbled in sharpie on their surfaces. Or maybe it was washed down the toilet Swirled with mascara-stained tissues Into the sewers to rot. Who needs a heart, anyway? She mutters. I don't. She runs her fingernails across her wrists. Red nail polish. Scars. Fishnet tights and hot rain and dark nights And there are too many adjectives, clauses verbs and nouns And they swirl around in her head And it's too warm, too warm And

His dimpled cheeks, carved like a candle's wick, speak of decades; and somewhere in the hallway I can feel my grandfather's ghost slip off the canvas. You look like him she says - that Roman nose off fighting wars in places we can't pronounce and your clipped jawline announcing places like long lost family. I bet you wear a jacket like him, shoulders crisp as the new world and focused like a poet on the future. I'll bet you even smell like him - leather warm and humid, and the apple tint of music left on your sleeves.

I know the time is coming when you will no longer leave fingerprints on my door, and we will not argue at Christmas dinner about the face of God. Your chair will be cold, your plate empty, and I will watch your shadow shrink on the sofa and your voice grow reed thin and white and your footprints on the carpet will become too light to stick. Your coat will grow too large in the closet and the world will never fill your shoes, so I will shake the dust off your best suit and find the pictures I took of you when you were laughing and the bible you kept by your bed that I could not believe in and I will tuck you in for