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There is sadness in these bones Deep in the marrow of the house that is my body I am a home to grief and anger You cannot see it in my skin and in my flesh But I flash my teeth and you finally recognize
As Heaven and Hell, I have no wealth. My soul is rich, dear, Take my self. In place of thrones, I offer bones Superior to Precious stones. Unlike Gems and wreaths of gold,
The times of great men are now past, because we are too much exposed now for the leaven of myth and legend to swallow up the horror of what we really are.
To my ex: I let you put me in that dark little corner and just above me hung a mobile of bones -- it drew the breath straight from my lungs. Silent whispers slithered in and out my ears,
I’m with You. Entwined within the gnarled grasp of somewhere that is not quite Rockland. It is darker, for the place that confines us rests snug within our skulls
This looks like jump to me You are a cockroach
I'm losing weight because you only love me for my skeleton, on my ribs you carve ampersands, because my life is nothing without your "and's." "And the others are prettier, the others are wise."
Blood seeps into every corner, every edge and every turn of my nails and for every heartbeat that echoes in my rib cage voices starts to yell.
Never have I seen anything about myself as flawless; The cuts that once covered my body, like paint strokes on a damaged canvas,
Just like that, I curl inside the empty cavern between rib bones and hip joints, just like that,
Still: He sat. Blank: His mind. Once a mental sanctuary, now a dull, parched Garden of Eden Imaginations free-flowing organ plugged
Standing in the front of the mirror, I hear someone murmur, "The problem with bones is that they are hidden beneath all my fat." The real problem with bones is that they have become symbols.
I always smell like this after being outside,
Dry bones, bleached bones, pearly white Shies away from heav’ly light Laughs and scorns the angels flight Dry bones smiling, embrace the night. Dry bones, burnt bones, glowing red
Cold, green grass buried under bare feet, Shivering, squirming to get loose, to be free, Wiggling up between toes, afraid of being trapped. Rasping against skin, embedded into the bones
My heart my heart, my fickle heart Longs for the sun but lingers in dark And aims for my love, but misses the mark My heart my heart, my fickle heart
Have you ever had something just catch you? Right when you were off guard. That little, spontaneous, thing. That makes everything that made you so weak So fragile So lost