| I write poems, obviously. |
~StormCloudMao
The motherfuckin' truth.Favourites
Lost in your downy napeBe pitiful to my great woe.--KeatsLost in your downy nape
The unframed photograph on my nightstand and the many pictures I view when I close my eyes are poor substitutes for the visions I see when I run my finger across your shoulder and gather the mass of your locks in my palm. Damn all photos! Pressed to the nose they make no hint of that something something shimmering your downy nape, nor do they hold me like a life ring, nor quake inwardly when language fails to grasp just what is happening here. A picture is worth (only) a thousand words, my dear, so many worthless thing
by *SitkaReign
White Horse RescueYou flick your tongue and shells fly, scatter.White Horse Rescue
Your lips run red. You've been biting them— if only that tongue could claim the same.
You try to speak but smoke comes out. We're poking birdshot holes in your throat: we're waking wounds, you're speaking tombs, and even your savior can't shoot you now,
while you're happy.
by ~scarredsodeep
Newest
Filthy TablesThe sun comes up on the elderly shambling through their small mountain towns and bakes them golden brown. Of course they die pushing groceries to their car, refilling their prescriptions,Filthy Tables
what have you and we can keep them locked inside we can hook them up to machines in nursing home communities pushing filthy checkers across filthy tables but either way the sun is coming up; might as well sit them down in the shade and tell them goodbye.
by ~StormCloudMao
The Joys Of Being Young...Every night the joys of being young and self-destructive enter me as though by some rare African mushroom, spores sliding down my bronchial tubes with ease, my throat wide and inviting like a prostitute, at which point I am likely to be friendly, more passive, and more fascinated with my world than in cold sobriety for better or worse, and at times it occurs to me: this is no way to live in the long term and it may kill me one day, but it's just so much fun.The Joys Of Being Young...
by ~StormCloudMao
MottledSomewhere out there in the forest, maybe by a lake, is a little bird mottled and eulogizing the other little birds which he's lost over the years, his little black beak quivering through the grim nocturne, like he's crying as he sings, but regains his composure upon realizing no verse can return them to Earth, no refrain can save them, and there's not a minor key that will make him less alone.Mottled
by ~StormCloudMao
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Appalachia
- Interests: Things.
- Email: stormcloudmao@gmail.com
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--
[link] <--the product of extreme boredom/love/hatred
Crack whores are the best kind of whores ^^
those born of darkness flourish in it, those who seek darkness shall perish in it....
xo!
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I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
m.
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.i love this game.
Write more.
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People ought to start dead and then they would be honest so much earlier.
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"Today I feel euphorian." -Ogden Nash
So when I was younger--ha, when we were younger--I heard a song. Quality of the song aside, it has always, always reminded me of you. And so, running the risk of being a creep, if you ever get the chance to listen to 'Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don't' by Brand New, you should know it's somehow about you.
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Maybe it's better to die living than live every day dead.
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Less concerned about fitting into the world
Your world that is
that has the grapes
to put up pics of mao
on his page
deserves my attention
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Sometimes, I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion!
whats a fuckass?
I am from Georgia.
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This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.
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