Tag Archives: poet

Poetry

@landlocks — Maria Gray

@landlocks– Instagram

she rents out a room in an upper chamber of my heart,
paying by the month until she grows bored of such
a dusty, overpriced place to stay and
what a hurricane that girl is, leaving a bitter
taste in my mouth until i can’t feel the words I speak

but maybe I’m better off not drawn to her
barbed escapades, not returning to my parents
in a matchbox accompanied by
staged sound effects of slamming doors
that made my bones shake
and no friend to apply makeup to my corpse:
i got the best that i could have gotten,
a mere aftertaste that taints the taste
of unplanned joy

she loses herself in her own living room sometimes
i mean now that she’s found a home that suits her
she called me for the first time
in six months and i couldn’t hang up
not when she’s cried and naked the speakers shake:
“I have no love to I’ve and it’s left me to lose”
choking in her apologies and
leaving them to invade her respiratory system,
becoming a part of her she can’t fully breathe out
until the day she sighs for the last time

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Prose

Buildings – Reilly Wieland

@reillzz — Instagram

Describe a building as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in war
– Do not mention the son, war, death or the old man

Tall and dark, drawn with heavy hands and thick lines. It seemed like the creator had too many late nights, too many mistakes, too many eraser marks that somehow got carved into the structure.
It wasn’t like the buildings that lined the streets surrounding it, there was no alabaster finishes or silver lined doors. It was just dark, and not in the sense that you hope for dark things to be. Out of place, almost.
The building and the ground surrounding it both were the color of volcanic ash. Cigarette butts littered the pavement, but no smokers. Bird shit everywhere, but no birds, no trees.

Describe the exact same building by a lover.
– Do not mention love, the lover, or the person there

The building was sterile, but in the same way that the labor wing of a hospital was. Clean, dark, but promising. You could look at it and consider all the flowers delivered to it, the hiring hand shakes given between its marble walls. It didn’t need a silver lining to be entrancing. The exact roof of the building was covered in greenery, dripping off the edges and down into the top floor windows, standing like hair when you first come back to school. The vegetation could only be seen by whoever got close enough the edge of the structure.

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Prose, Prosetry

11:46 PM – Bela Sanchez

11:46 PM – Bela Sanchez

@be.la (instagram)

 

all i went in to do was turn off the light, but then i saw them. all those pieces of me that you’ve been taking away, so small that i don’t notice each one until i see the gaping hole in my chest. i’m no brick wall, but you still have the uncanny ability to break me down. i don’t know what i’m writing, but i have to write something, anything, to fill this void, because tea and breathing exercises aren’t working. i’m sorry i get so stuck-stuck-stuck on words but i’ve heard if you say something enough it stops having any meaning. no matter how many times i write “i-miss-you”, it still sounds desperate. every rule has its exception. i’ve grown too accustomed to saying “i’m just tired”, when what i mean is “i am sad and i don’t know why.” but i haven’t slept in nine days and i’m living off coffee-induced dreams and trying to grasp some shred of exhaustion, so i think it’s a fair excuse. i can’t seem to remember how it feels to be so passionate about something that you fall unquestioningly into it each night. we’re driving so fast and i’m begging you to go faster because i want to know how the stars sound at the speed of light. i want to know how much it would burn if i got too close to the sun because I’m not suicidal but i might be staricidal. i can’t wrap my head around the edges of this universe and i can’t wrap my head around you. i wonder what the stars look like when they’re falling asleep.

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