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skin and no skinned knees I shed my skin and abandon it on a doorstep. Someone is always there to answer and step inside of it, move their organs in two by two as though into an ark.skin and no skinned knees by *Solaces
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you never know what's inside of you
until you give it to someone else.
Then, all you want is it back,
just to make something of it.
See those bones I've broken? They've since healed over, but once they were an earthquake. They rattled like the china on the shelves and the foundation beneath it. My xray, it tells the darkest written secrets of gray matter. All the strength left in my triceps is the penmanship of my young hand smudged together in a rush to tell
karyotype: the reprise When I was a little girl,karyotype: the reprise by *Solaces
I wanted to climb
to the top of my family tree
and discover what kind of fruit
grows up there.
If there were apples, I vowed
to toss at least six back down to earth,
enough to feed the family and then some.
If it was barren, I promised to turn to my own womb
for springtime some day.
Back then, the wind was in everyone's will
so I learned to hold tight to every campfire my father started.
Back then, gravity had hunger pains in its eyes.
If it had the energy,
it would have taught me how to fly
while I was still feather light.
In reality, I was just Zacchaeus
before he climbed the sycamore.
I hid
The Phoenix Man After my bird died,The Phoenix Man by *Solaces
we sent him off to
the kind of mortician
who knows how to turn
bodies into bonfires,
the same guy who I imagine
can turn anyone into a phoenix--
the winged and the four-legged,
the bubblers and the breathers,
the feral and the friendly.
Once he's through, he slips each soul
through a doggie door, back to God
or to science or someone.
He returned my bird to me
in a box that looks as dignified
as a pyre. I never got to see the smolder
that had been there, the dismissal of feathers,
but the Phoenix Man left me a slab of cement
that remembered my bird's footsteps
before drying over.
You have to have a
don't get tired of elephants yet I've had my crippling moments.don't get tired of elephants yet by ~Solaces
They'd either start in my stomach
with an ache like broken glass
or stab me right in the catharsis,
somewhere near my heart or breath
or maybe my left foot.
I wouldn't know how it feels
to hurt to walk, but I imagine
with a destination like farther,
it's no pilgrimage.
So take the burden off your back.
Life is not a sandstorm
and your lungs are only a mirage
if you expect to see your breath
every time you breathe.
So take a breath
back, just one step
and listen with your smoke signals.
Help is on the way.
I just can't promise
it knows much about this lifetime.
It's the same way I co
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BT.
"kitsch is the corpse left when art loses its anger"
— Robert Jesse Stoller
--
"...I wished with all my heart that we could just...Leave this world behind.Rise like two angels in the night and magically...disappear."
--
=RawEm0tion
#theWrittenRevolution
--
☮
I'm just curious, but how did you find me?
I'm always looking for things to read here.
I hadn't been watching. I thought I had.... sorry.
--
#Word-Smiths ~ People are Important - Goals much less
When we stop learning we have begun to die - Shamelessly Purloined
I'm humbled!
--
“Many of the great achievements of the world were accomplished by tired and discouraged men who kept on working.”
HUMANITY WILL ONE DAY RULE THE WORLD.