the morning amp

sperm donor

my words only
tickled the leaves
of your eyelids
for a split-
these arms
misaligned from a
misadjusted factory machine
misplaced the importance
of patience
misunderstood musings
of non-torque-spec-dreams
the wisdom with the final
ratchet click as the pressure
chokes every bolt from each hole
the wisdom after the severance
of each apple stem snaps from
overstretched branches clinging
too tightly to the bough
how each crimson tear buries
further into the dirt, how the cores
are invaded by ants attracted by
a decaying sweetness before
the ripeness of colors introduce
themselves to each other as morning
through rubbed eyes
half full
coffee cups
so the tree slumps into the earth
never really serving a purpose

except to fuck her a few times
(but never enough)
learn what a lullably means
(but not how to sing one)
become best friends with
an empty house
a fresh cigarette
and the rumors the night
spreads about morning
(all of the truest
falsities perjured by
a blueness not belonging to me
through windows that are my own)

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

—  A Poison Tree by William Blake
Spelling Out The Names of Our Stars

before I could count
the number of my
I traced a single
digit across the
alphabet of stars
covering my head
like a spilt milk

my one,
your name spelled out
with the stars
I gazed upon
forming a constellation
in my heart
where your soul

those galaxies burned brightly
through double digit twenties
full moon shot special
early morning egg buffets
each star
each life

each pair

waning imploding spirits
waxing floors filled with
bled flower feld I love you’s
never bandaging
yesteryear abuse

& with each passing comet
we were brought closer
to destruction
of all the wrongs we knew before
of all the heartache
endured long ago

& it’s in your arms
my soul can heal
finding home
among the clutter of the heart
where the love is pure
& bountiful

the skies of my youth
have dwindled to
the single
digit I began
even though
the spirit of old
stars have long faded
my sky has never
burned brighter
than when I
placed my
last wish

on you

Written by: @bg-grizzo (Italics) and @denmysterywoman

fiendfyrx  asked:

Are you doing that Dialogue list thing? I'd like to request 3 for Jughead (with Betty) 😂😘

Title: Being With You
Summary: It’s a typical morning at the Blue & Gold office, and Betty notices that there’s something odd with her boyfriend. He’s been acting weird all morning, and even if he has called himself a weirdo, all that display of emotion was just not something she expected from him.
A/N: This is a prompt from a dialogue list that I posted a long time ago! I’m finally working on my requests, so if you’ve sent me one and thought I had ignored, well, joke’s on you XD Just kidding, guys. I hope you enjoy this small, fluffy one, and feel free to keep sending me requests!

There was something wrong with Jughead that morning.

His voice was softer, chuckles were constantly rolling out of his tongue and she had already lost count of how many times he had brushed his limbs against hers— being it his shoulder or his knee. He was wearing a different cologne that morning, and even if she knew he preferred darker coffee— dark as his soul, he would say—, he had been taking sips from her capuccino ever since they started their daily work at the Blue & Gold.

There was no sarcasm, no classic reference and his computer was shut.

Could it be that his beanie had finally overheated his brain?

It was not like Betty was bothered by any of those things, no. In fact, she could feel her heart warming up whenever she felt his skin against hers and she couldn’t help but be happy with the idea of sharing an indirect kiss. She loves the feeling of having him so close, with no drama to cloud their thoughts, as they simply enjoy each other’s company like a normal, teen couple should. She loves having her by her side, as they do something they’re both so passionate about.

She loves the way it all feels.

But all that display of affection was just not something he would naturally do.

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