Quiver

Literature -

[Filtered] poems by Josh

Spine;arching

Stupid Candy

[avonlea] -poems by Anke

*************

"Filtered"
Your eyes blink statically.
Your perceptions,
inaccurate.
I'm 26 minutes
less than who I was.
You found love in the
reflection of a bathroom mirror.
There, you heard a lullaby,
of jealousy and hate.
You said you saw mysteries untold,
in serpant's tongues and lust.
Lovely you,
with the light of knives and blood
shining in back of you,
casting shabows in the most obscene
areas of your brain.
I'ts all about holding on,
Isn't it?
A rubber ball dropping,
and letting go slowly.
Eh, whatever you need.

"Pro and I Sacrifice"
I never remember raising such
emotional voices to you, like you are to me.
But whats fair when nothing is calm enough
to resist.
You put up sacrificial boundaries
but Im not that ambient.
Procrustes dear come stretch my arms
around him.
He has become so profuse to me.
Was I so procumbent to you?
Was there nothing inside you at all that grew?
Through all the tears that have been shed
never enough to drown you.
But enought o blur.
Stand there,
farther, down, deeper
there.
Admiration for 90 second
sacrifices.

"Breaking Things"
Quiet moments of change
falling through your hands.
Untouhed.
Breaking like porceline
in a puddle of tears.
I broke like porceline
in a puddle of fears.
Breaking through forgotten silences.
It's getting hard to think about
the two of us.
Smashing your face from mine
is taking more energy
than I can gather.
You make me weak.
I'll break you from lingering
in all silences.
Too shallow to reach for,
too deep to care.
In the middle so I
break you from my fucking eyes.

"Crafted Beautifully"
11:11 P.M.
you feel out of love to me.
So I build my defenses.
I'm haunted on the inside
with the face of you.
My mouth is dry,
lacking the taste of you.
Worship is so obsessive,
so I don't.
Forgetting about you, is forgetting a part of me,
So I won't.
Safely tucked into dwellings
of a decapitated sincerity.
Crazed and untamed,
I lash out in vulnerability.
6 months, being trapped.
6 months of giving a fuck.
Tell me that its okay to throw it all away,
but I won't believe you.
Snuggled under the covers
are entangled confusions.

-Josh