i’m choking on words—too many to force from my flowerbud throat—too many to swallow back—down—i can’t—speak my arms are pinned to my sides—wrapped with thick coiled titanium—i want to write you walls tall thick protecting walls weave them out of corded muscle out of my heart—out of tall trees too wide to wrap your arms around too old—they’ll grow up rising crooked like flame—tossing away words—incandescent multitudinous baleful—and the ground is littered with stray letters—too many roiling waves of vowels strung together into—forevermonster and curiousmultifacetedraindrop—chimera words in ancient alchemistical alphabets—sigils—it’s only in words like this that i keep you.—
October is a bitch. She shakes her Empty, emaciated fist At a pale, gray sky Dotted with freezing rain: She fizzles with cheap thrills. There’s plastic Caught in her smile, Pollution-red lips And a smoky eye. She ripped my tears from me With frigid, Kevlar hands, With wind sharp as glass.
i chased you —apollo and daphne— strands of long hair catching in my outstretched desperate fingers. you laughed our anger incandescent wild your fear your spite for me my breathless adoration my desire for you. i reach reach reach. (Your skin turns to bark When I catch you, The best escape.)
“You must write every single day of your life. You must read dreadful dumb books and glorious books, and let them wrestle in beautiful fights inside your head, vulgar one moment, brilliant the next. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. I wish you a wrestling match with your creative muse that will last a lifetime. I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories – science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”—Ray Bradbury (via venebelle)