There is a beast,
with a warm crocodile grin,
(enticing to lonely children)
who sleeps under the cool pond
There's an oak at the ledge
and with twisted limbs it withers and creaks
(tickles and croons)
to the wind, speaking to that beast.
and there's a woman who knows the oak
they talk wretched of me, swaying together, and
(I watch her)
in the night, she leaps among the darkest houses, undressing, delirious.
Wretched! Everyone else has moved on! Heavy and fetid; the smell of my home.
Because of the beast the woman and the oak!
(Together for hundreds of years)
all wild and writhing together.
There Isn't Much To Say by abject-ampersand, literature
Literature
There Isn't Much To Say
Yarn , unraveled, is crazy,
all teeth and knots, curves and knuckles
twists and whips and tight, fast corners
spin it up however, and then roll her along.
---
There's taste of garlic. A tang. A pucker.
It's love! Pineapple and kiwi!
Spicy cayenne. Pain- like heat- but better
Here, there is mild mozzarella, but paler.
---
Sleek and silver-smooth smiles,
molten steel babbling and laughing,
spitting and writhing,
burning and blinding and good at keeping it a secret.
---
Dry, sweet hay, but not. Softer,
like a pillow. Nineteen rows of dieing corn
but livelier- more touchable,
and slower to grow.
--
Alone and yet not lonely; tw
A sour milk brother with
sour milk breath,
hair sour milk colored,
stringy lumps, and sour milk
spills, sour milk
in his eyes
sour milk brother
with sour milk teeth
and sour milk breakfasts
lunches, dinners, snacks,
sour milk laughter and sour milk
fighting. Sour milk
always sour milk
on his voice, in his head.
thick, bitter. Sour milk brother
hating me with all his
sour milk looks,
and sour milk words
dripping down his chin,
like water.
dirty little feet scratching
scratching though I want
sleep come on let me
fucking sleep
God damn this
scratching
Jesus Christ
gnawing
on the power lines and
old wood with
yellow fangs
fat dirty tails and
ink spot eyes
the flea bags
mite-infested
rabid bastards
only scratching
and always scratching
rats in the ceiling
taking tiny shits
on my head
while I sleep
try to sleep anyways
and always
scratching scratching
You hung quietly,
face all purple,
swollen and cold.
He found you
still as chain,
like an engine,
the stolen heart
of some Ford
or rusted Chevy.
And he fled,
hid, from you
from that stink
of WD-40, oil
and stale exhaust.
I can imagine
he never thought
death would smell
like his hands.
DREAMS never NIGHTMERES by abject-ampersand, literature
Literature
DREAMS never NIGHTMERES
I've dreamt of stone lions
all fangs and marble and I,
ice pick at hand,
hacking and cracking into skulls,
into chests and drywall,
flinging sharp splinters of
rock and fang and bone.
I've dreamt of a sky, sparking with silver,
where a hurdling meteor,
purple and green,
is carving a thick white fissure.
One vast grey shadow
groans, threatening
to make a chilly night
erupt in fear and cinders,
snapping coals and the
smell of fire.
I've dreamt of a small boy
made from yellow wax who
didn't like the sun.
He lived down a pebble path
past singing lakes and fields
of blue flowers, beneath
the cool shade of antique forests,
w
Not Trying To Drown by abject-ampersand, literature
Literature
Not Trying To Drown
One hundred delirious dreams
of you drinking the sea,
and when you turn toward the sand and
the sea frees itself (bubblier this time)
I explain, "It's the salt." but you correct me,
"It's the air."
Yii Yii!
they cry
they always cry
Yii! Yii!
in the night
and the day
but in the morning
oh no
it's only
Ay-ai Ay-ai!
they seem to cry
and in the evening
and late noon
they don't cry,
but sigh
Ah. Ah.
in the heat
only
Ah. Ah.
Because if you don't add my other account to your +watch list I will hunt them down and make stupid, potentially awkward faces and/or bodily noises directed towards them.
I SWEAR I WILL
And if you have already befriended my other account, then you and your family are now safe from danger.
http://bored-dog.deviantart.com/
Do it.
Prease?
Joy.
I was debating this for a while... literally 30 minutes or more. I don't want to put my Photoshop CS2 art stuff on here and soil all my pretty poems and photography, so I scrounged up my old account that was mostly MEANT for computer art and random shit like that. So here she is.
http://bored-dog.deviantart.com/
I haven't put up anything new yet, and actually, there are only two or three real drawings in there, but I tend on using that one for my cartoon/art/shit whatever it is, so keep an eye out on it ok?
And I'm in the midst of making something right now! I love it, the gals are beautiful, but I won't tell you what it is! WAIT AND SE
I've been on a "break" from doing what I love to do, draw random shit. I've been slowly working my way through these recent art classes, but I just miss regular graphite drawing. Dammit. I don't think I'll ever get back into it.
Oh well.