i’ll carve my words, pare them down with a sharpened nib to bite-sized pieces, small enough to fit between your fingers, so that maybe they might be easier to swallow.
i’ll sculpt lines, abstract enough to shift in shape and texture depending on sides and angles, whether eyes and minds are widened or squinted, i’ll shape them surreal to the point of meaninglessness to improve their appreciation as art.
i’ll write with decoration, excessive frills to fool readers into seeing beauty in these sparse paragraphs, illusions tricking perception into sensing vision and craftsmanship when emptiness is all there is.
i’ll write with plainness, black and white, no disguises to hide secrets tucked beneath wrinkled shirts and tired skin, so these scrawls spill dark honesty, staining paper with indelible blots.
i’ll write.
i’ll write.
i’ll write.
sometimes i try to imagine separating ourselves
from this us that has evolved,
finger by finger, releasing strong holds
on opposite loves,
(i can’t)
unravel this beautiful knotted tangle of emotions and connection
i find myself wrapped up in, a cocoon
of potential, a metamorphosis
in progress.
sometimes i attempt to construct the future into more than maybes,
eke out details in the haze of someday with my mental telescope,
lacking in clear foresight,
(i can’t)
conjure more than visions of possibilities
easily evaporated, lost
with a small exhalation of reality.
sometimes i wonder
how i look
through your eyes,
(i shouldn’t)
ponder whether they perceive the darkness that broods
beneath cheery appearances, blood
red the colour of affection
running through these words,
mere vessels of imperfection
to disguise an uncertain skepticism
that blurs
the (out)lines of desires and fears.
sometimes i worry
i’ll break your heart.
(i won’t)
break mine instead.
the sorcerers' apprentice
Turtle Girl, Whale Whisperer, Princess Jelly, and Shifting Sands stand on the beach. A chill wind kicks up from the ocean. “Who’s Edward?” says Whale Whisperer.
“He is the conductor. The one who is to bring you to the City.” The sand person spins and shifts back and forth. “I am going to check for him, stay here.” Shifting Sands dissolves into the beach and the three girls are left standing on the shore alone.
“Should we actually wait?” says Turtle Girl.
“I guess. The whole thing just wears me out,” says Princess Jelly. They plop down onto the sand. Whale Whisperer hums a tune. Be she stops and shivers after a while.
“We’re going to get too cold sitting around here,” she says, “We’re soaked.” She looks towards the woods. “Maybe we’ll find some cover in there.” They hike up to the woods and slip between the trees, treading carefully because none of them are wearing shoes. But they manage to find soft moss to step on and wander deeper into the woods. It is warmer in here, and the trees echo with the sounds of birds and squirrels. A young girl with big glasses and a pretty smile is sitting with her back to a tree and a squirrel in her hands.
“Nicky!” Princess Jelly yells and throws her arms around the girl. “You’re here too?”
The girl flashes her smile. “I’m Jen and Lilli’s apprentice.” She whispers something to the squirrel and sends it off through the trees. “I just sent Jen a message saying that you are here.”
Turtle Girl and Whale Whisperer stand back, looking around at the trees. “You guys are so awkward,” says Princess Jelly. “This is Nicky, she’s really nice. Just because she is a wizard and she knows Jen and Lilli doesn’t make her scary.”
Nicky tells them about how the Wanderer found them bobbing in the ocean and coaxed them towards the shore by singing spells on the beach. He had sent a squirrel to Jen, who had made the arrangements for them to be picked up and carried to the City.
“Right, Edward was supposed to meet us,” says Whale Whisperer.
“Yes. He has been…delayed. There was an unfortunate encounter.”
They hear the cacophony of a thousand black crows growing from the direction of the ocean. “You have done well to find me,” says Nicky, “I am your guide. We must make haste.”
self knowledge & understanding
(among other things)
a conflagration
a contagion
a condemnation
a contemplation
an invitation
an inspiration
an initiation
a persuasion
a preoccupation
a penetration
a veneration
in waiting
~~thanks to onnothingandeverything for the inspiring lines: a conflagration in waiting
Nothing in Perspective
If not what is
then what isn’t
is not what is
what isn’t at all?
without the is
there is no isn’t
just as the some
is not without none
everything is just
as important as
nothing for without
the none you have
no some, nothing
at all, but even that
would be much more
something than it
would be nothing
like the hand set
to the wall we find
the space between
is more important
in contrast to
the hand than the
hand is to itself
never forget nothing
nothing is beautiful
this is the real stuff. the grit that stings eyes dripping defiance and the flow that erodes away rock-solid surfaces over time, leaving gaping dark vulnerabilities ready to be filled with sorrow. steady downpours form calm pools of self-reflection, idle fingers rippling circles outwards to meet curving edges, licking at the embrace. it’s an icy cold that burns, searing nerves until it usurps all feeling. senses drown in the pain of nothing, screaming silently. no-one can hear; they aren’t meant to anyway. this is living.
nightly songs
of a minor heart
enlarged in
the always fleeting
presence of
it’s greater counterpart
beats falling
into a broken pause
when left alone,
lost and wandering
fingers write
books of notes diminished
by a haunting absence,
printed lines of yearning
aligning the droplets
of forsaken tears
that took shape
of their rain and fog
across seas, lands
drought through walls
have bitten the silence
wrists adjoined in song
face upon shadows
the expanse stretches
so does loneliness;
its arms generous and wide
(collab by:
onnothingandeverything and
artreture)
the uterus is an ashtray
Gabriel Landslidefor onnothingandeverything,
her “….the uterus is an ashtray……”
thanks so very much...
love this
i’m working on a drawing to go with but…couldn’t keep the words in. my pen sometimes manufactures this urgency ;p you know what i mean? awkward<3 jc
it’s easier to be nothing than something
better to try and fail for something than live with nothing.
my mum always told me that that means death (in a figurative, not literal sense)…
Interesting. My mother has always told me that it represents vanity and self esteem issues. I don’t know how much I read into dream interpretation, but I like the idea from a poetic standpoint.
