encrefloue

Another sunrise
Another sunset
Another compromise
Another regret

Another morning
Another nightfall
Another mourning
Another downfall

I’m too tired
I’m too tired

Another friendship
Another farewell
Another secret
I wouldn’t dare tell

Another romance
Another heart to share
Another slow dance
I couldn’t bear

I’m too tired
I’m too tired

Another success
Another skill
Another empty promise
Another dream left unfulfilled

Another city
Another place
Another country
Another cell with no escape

Another future
Another hope
Another rupture
Another loss of how to cope

Another poem
Another song
Another language
Another way to say it wrong

Another miracle
Another thing that’s beautiful
Another pile of garbage
Another pile of garbage

Another miracle
Another thing that’s beautiful
Another pile of garbage
Another pile of garbage

Another beginning
Another beginning
Another beginning
Another beginning

Another beginning
Another beginning
Where is the ending
Where is the ending

I’m too tired
I’m too tired

She wakes you.

“Trespassers, William.”

Your eyes open. Darkness.

“We’re not supposed to be here.”

Drenched in sweat, blankets, panic.

“Violet?”

Her knees dig into your ribs, her hips heavy on your stomach.

“Violet. Violet? Vi oh let?”

Her face lowers to yours.

“Vahhhhhhhhhhhhh yohhhhhhhhhhhhhh let. Violet! Violet.”

Her lips float just above your left eyeball.

“Fshyoooo, shyooo, shyooo, shyooo, shyooo…”

The blast of air from her pursed lips makes your eye flicker, water, scatter.

“Bah bah BAH. PAH. Hnnnnnnn, hnnnnnn.”

Her stomach and breasts smash against you. Her forehead drops abruptly, painfully onto your chin. Her hair fills your open, gasping mouth. Paralysis.

“One two, one two, one two three. Never better never better never better. Vie ohh let.”

Her voice is a wasp. Whirling. Buzzing. Up. Down. Breaking at the speed of its wings. Her lips, placed on your throat, inject the vibrating wasp into your airways.

“Always a good girl. Always a gooooooooood girl.”

Are you breathing? She is trembling. Next, a song, briefly. Your shared history, cherished, festering, through heaving sputters.

“On a...wagon...bound for market…na na...mournful eye...dona...”

Her joints tense. Rigid fists clutch the pillow on either side of your ears, the gauzy material yielding to her weight, depressing the space supporting your head. Sinking, sinking.

“...guh…”

She is fully sobbing now, the muscles of her chest and back contracting and expanding as her lungs belligerently approach, then recede, approach, recede, approach, recede, approach, recede.

“I couldn’t. I. I. I couldn’t. could. couldn’t. couldn’t ever. I.”

You speak. “Shhhhhhhhh.”

You feel her stiffen, then soften, her tendons, her joints, her chaos relenting.

“Shhhhhhhhhh.”

The lactic acid, the sweat, the drool, the tears, flush away.

“Shhhhhhhhh.”

She lets go. She lies on you, limply, for the moment, a seemingly immense weight despite her small frame. It doesn’t seem right that she’s smaller than you. Her throat is next to your right ear. You can hear its grooves sliding to let saliva slip through. Swallowing, swallowing, swallowing.

“...fshyoo shyoo shyoo shyoo...fshyoo shyoo shyoo...”


“It’s okay.”

“...”

You take a full minute, by your count, to gently roll her back to the other side of the bed. She folds over like damp origami, her eyes open, unseeing, gazing at too many patchworks and pathways. She is elsewhere. The person you’ve always known is nowhere, or perhaps here truly for the first time.

“Go back to sleep. When we wake up, Mom will make us cheesy eggs the way you like.”

Local events article: http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/year-boy-missing-fire-killed-florida-home-47981244



Florida Man

Sun is bright today
My love grab the sunscreen
Or else you’re gonna burn
Load up the cooler
Let’s get gone before the weather turns
Tell Ma and Pete I’m on my way

It’s hot as hell today
My love wear your sun hat
Or else you’re gonna burn
Make sure that Ma takes her pills
You know how she never learns
Tell Pete that soon we’re gonna play

Karina
Finally a day off
To spend together
Let’s hit the marina
Sail away
And rest our weary hearts

Ain’t no breeze today
My love run back inside
Or else you’re gonna burn
‘Cause now the car won’t start
Wait there until the engine turns
Tell Ma and Pete I won’t delay

Too hot for y’all today
My love think I’ll move on
So now you’re gonna burn
The water’s best enjoyed alone
You done nothin’ to earn
The seagull’s song and ocean spray

Karina
Finally a way out
Of life together
The fire’s so bright and clean
Burn away
And rest your weary heart

Karina
Wish that we’d watch
This sunset together
Purple red and green
Drift away
And keep you in my heart

If we are faggots,
it’s because our lungs burn on the inhale:
the winds of change
fanning the fires of revolution,
catching from one blistering soul
to the next,
from one smoldering furnace
to the next,
until our truth obliterates the darkness
and illuminates the forlorn sky.

You’re damned right we’re flaming.

If we are dykes,
it’s because our shoulders hold the floodgates:
the perfect storm of misogyny
battering against our backs,
an uproarious downpour
threatening to drown us--
How dare we not be your mother?
How dare we not be your wife?
How dare we not be your sex toy?
How dare we exist as individuals
and not as characters in your story?

Beauty is in the eye of the storm.

If we are queer,
it’s because
we are far more extra than ordinary,
biologically bi,
transcendently trans,
a Pangaea of pan,
flexible, fluid,
not bound by a binary,
allies to one and all,
asymmetrical demigods,
royal as queens,
magical as faeries,
lovely as pansies
and fierce as Amazons.

If we are proud,
it’s because we are alive.

If we are proud,
it’s because love is alive.

If we are gay,
it’s because we are happy.

Invitation

Take a little breath now child
Step into the world
Take a little step now child
Step into the world
Break a little sweat now child
Step into the world
Break a little bread now child
Step into the world

Should your crest fall
Don’t be crestfallen
Should the storm call
Let the squall in

Take a little chance now child
Step into the world
Take a little stance now child
Step into the world
Raise your little hands now child
Step into the world
Raise your little dance now child
Step into the world

Should you be trod down
Don’t be downtrodden
Should the storm sound
Let the thought in

Take a little breath now child
Step into the world

Written for: therealljidol

Topic: The distance between us

Impervious

Two steps ‘til we do the two-step
Hon, you know I’m on step one
You say take three rights to go left
Alright, for sure, sounds like fun

Voyager from afar
Said run away, jump in the car
Pull me in close, push them away

I don’t mean to be distant
In this instant
But you’re getting too close

Clothes are coming off quickly
I’m too sickly for this
Everyone knows

Chalk it up to talking it up
Up through when the cows came home
Such a noble thing to be alone

I am impervious
I am impervious
I am perfectly imperiously perfunctorily impervious to us

Five fingers away from freely
Lingering here next to me
Steal what you must
But trust that what’s real
Is under lock and key

Orbiting satellite
Said fly away with me tonight
Pull me in close, push them away

I don’t mean to be guarded
But my heart is something
You shouldn’t know

Got too good at defending
To be lending it
To you in one go

Blame it on
The game that we’re on
This crappy reality show
Such a better thing to be alone

I am impervious
I am impervious
I am perfectly imperiously perfunctorily impervious to us

Written for: therealljidol Partner: lordrexfear

Topic: Nevermind

**trigger warning**



On my way to the market I saw Jackie Chan
I went up to him and he let me shake his hand
I told my momma about the card that he signed
She looked away and to me she said “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

On my way to the schoolyard I saw a big dog
He growled at me as I ran through the morning fog
I told my momma about the dog close behind
She looked away and to me she said “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

On my way to the church I saw a spooky man
I left when he said I could ride home in his van
I told my momma and she said that I was fine
I looked away and to her I said “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

On my way to daddy’s I saw the man again
He said that he only wanted to be my friend
I told my dad about the problems that I find
He looked real mad but to me he said “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

On my way to momma’s I saw the van nearby
Opened the door and I saw him by momma’s side
She told me he’s my new papa so please be kind
I ran upstairs and to him she said “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

On my way to sleep the man came into my room
He said I better get used to this really soon
I told him my mom and dad would not be so blind
He laughed a lot and to me he said “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

On my way to school I told mom about last night
She said it’s just a nightmare that had caused me fright
She told me he wouldn’t ever be so unkind
I ran away as I screamed at her “nevermind”

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind
nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind

Topic: Thunderclap

A wilting mother
Once told her curious son
A worrisome tale

Of how a pure heart
Could receive the sky’s blessing:
A wish from the gods.

When her last breath left,
The child followed it swiftly,
Racing through the reeds,

Forging the river,
Crushing sakura petals
On the mountain’s face,

Up to the zenith
Where the breath floated skyward
Beyond the boy’s reach.

With nary a pause,
The youth leapt from the apex,
Arms stretching fully,

And before falling
Managed to clutch not the breath
But the swollen moon.

A blanket of clouds
Blocked the sight of the sky’s wound
While the boy tumbled—

The sky wept with pain
And shrieked with terrible wrath,
Unleashing a bolt

Of white agony,
Smiting the plummeting child
That fell back to Earth.

With staggering breath,
He lay at the mountain base,
But held close the moon.

A fog covered him
As the sky drew near and wailed—
Return what is mine.

In sputtering chunks,
The boy spoke before dying—
You must do the same.

----------------------------

When the sun arose,
A bird’s song was on the wind
Through the dancing trees.

His eyes fluttered wide
With a kiss upon his cheek—
Good morning my love.

Topic: Patchwork Heart

She left,
her small limbs
stiff with purpose,
while there was still enough water in the air
to moisten the back of your eyeballs
with a hefty inhale through the nostrils.

She managed to vanquish the screen door
towering over her
jeering in front of her
through some indignant scuffle
and plodded
with stiff limbs
into the vacant lot beside us—
heels sinking momentarily
in patches of soft mud,
toes hooking and catching
wet and gnarled
clumps of ragweed.

She marched until
her heels found the right mud
and she hurled the rest of her edges
into the shapelessness—
with her knees
and hips
sinking in,
she took to thrusting
the heels
of her palms
into the mire:
stiff to soft
swift to slop
thuck thuck thuck.

At length,
she found the right thuck
and clutched
the right lump of runny earth
and with a stiff lego hand
took to clapping
the lump she clutched:
fast to fist
slap to sift
clup clup clup.

She rose abruptly
from her makeshift atelier,
evidently satisfied
with the shift she’d made,
and with that shift
caged in curled fingers,
she plodded
with stiff limbs
to the pothole down the street.
Hips and knees dropped
as she tussled
with a traffic cone
next to the pothole,
lifting its base
and depositing
the shift beneath it.

Plump footfalls
beat their way
past the damned screen door
and back onto the porch
where she looked me in the eyes,
her own as serious
as mom's death,
and said,

“don’t touch.”

The next day
was hot as hell
and a hefty inhale
would scratch the back of your eyeballs.
Thudding footsteps on the tile:
she cornered me
in the kitchen,
looked me in the eyes,
thrust a cage of curled fingers up to me
and coughed.
Softly, I unfurled the bars
and took the shift from her.
An odd, brittle ball of dried mud.

“What’s this?”

“My heart. You better be nice to it.”

Topic: Campfire stories

Climbers’ campfire

The Asian girl is German
and is saying something
about research
and laboratory work
to the soft-spoken
buff guy
who descended the cliff
from seemingly nowhere,
undaunted by trusting
ounces of metal protection
in questionable limestone
yet unequipped to penetrate
our bedraggled band
of weekend warriors
without an explicit invitation.
Next to him
there’s the teapot guy
who’s been hitting on Amaia—
short, stout,
slowly layering
his subtle aggressions
into overt ones—
she, as usual,
does well at appearing
to pay him no mind,
flitting from one social perch
to the next, sewing
feeble threads between
the misfits of the cluster,
island-hopping
every few minutes
to the stranded isles
in the archipelago.
Jo is aloft in her cocoon,
jovial in her withdrawal,
polishing off a second pale ale
while issuing hearty chortles of approval
to the bits and ends of conversation
knotted beneath her in heaving tangles.
Philippe is standing, sitting, standing,
crouching, leaning, standing,
feverishly scrawling combinations
of English words
that none of us would think to say
into a well-worn notebook
by the light of his headlamp,
never missing a cue
to pierce the conversation
with the most ridiculous
and best possible punch lines
that have our abdomens
heaving.
Muscle spasms at the end of the day.
He’ll invert the levity
into poetry
in a short while.
Derek listens to Amaia
and listens to the German,
highlighting their insights
with appreciative recapitulations
and an oddly alto guffaw,
slapping Philippe on the back
with open palms
and mangled skin—
he is always
at the right level of buzz
like the fire
he’s cajoled for the past hour.

I am still
fear
bones
tissues
nerves
twitching in a flesh sack
rotting with adrenaline
so since I can’t
share catharsis
with my friends
I’ll just pluck these strings
and let them resonate
in ways I never will.