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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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fireheart
don't play with fire they told him, taking the matches out of his hands ignoring the heat of his skin, the angry scabs on his knuckles don't you go making a mess more than you're worth but there were embers in his eyes, dragon's lungs in his chest—more fire than any match could every create— untouchable, inseparable and they couldn't take those
so he learned to breath fire rather than light it until it spilled out around him, crackling with the snap of his fists and the breaking of bones that followed becoming bonfires that swallowed buildings thanks to the machinations of his thick, clever fingers spreading from body to body with the echo of his guns, the points of his knives— death, eater of worlds, held barely at bay by the bars of his ribs
and they would ask him, didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with fire so he would smile around the orange and white of his cigarette and let it fall as if the flare of burn and light was answer enough
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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arterial block
creativity is an infection causing the coughing up of multicoloured blood and a fever of fingers on pens, paper, ink, keys creeping from the smears one's hands, lips, into bodies and minds
creativity is a beastly thing prowling and gouging and hungry demanding all the blood you'd love to bleed and yet can't as if your skin has become iron and those welcomed blows slide off like water
creativity would take your soul if it could take every inch of your flesh and bone and muscle take your heart and eyes and tongue and most of all your brain like they alone are enough to fill its void
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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a robin
my ribs are a cage, from which a bird sings an endless stream of melancholic tunes
its wings flutter and shake, but have been curved and bent by the confines of their prison leaving it unable to fly
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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banshee
i'm screaming— throat dry, voice a felled pot— and the sound reverberates through my skull, replenishing itself like a fountain
i'm screaming because every cell, every organelle in my body is burning as you touch me, as you destroy my sovereignty as if i am your throne to take
i'm screaming as if the gods, of any pantheon, would look down on my crumbling form and return me from death to living soil
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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natural selection
i do not belong to you i am not your squirrel's trove of nuts, buried for a time never to come—forgotten— simply on the flight of your whim for, if you bury me, expecting me to stay, i will grow, not into a tree, but into something with spider's legs, bearing shadows for teeth and loneliness for claws because i am owned by no other than myself and i will eat you whole before i let you collar me
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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trowel
when prying flesh from bone, there will always be blood, that hot brand of your actions; the life you dug into
no amount of dirt can bury the sins of severed tendons and masticated muscle, and all the fauna that grow from the horror whisper the red reminder of your reaper scythe
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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bird feeder
i dig canyons into my skin, to watch my sweet life trail it's expanse, leaving deep red footsteps across ivory as it descends the mountain of my body, reaching desperately for the leaf carpet at my foot
i am not the only hungry thing in these woods but i am the kindest for which i will not be the only one to eat tonight
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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garden wall
if we could talk, we lichen-dressed stones, we could tell you tales of life and death, of nature and machination all of which live within us
we have watched the world grow and we will watch it die; this beautiful morbid amalgamate who gave us ageless life
if we had words to speak, there would no longer be questions to be asked for we've beheld the answers to them all
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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morning dew
there is no greater loss than the dreams of the dead passing from life, trapped in one's head cradled in the thunderstorm of an empty skull   left untouched; voided; null
the pollen-potential of creation: a thousand unsung ideations
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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topiary
i wear a shell of aberrancy, spiked and clawed hiding the garden in my chest, the metaphor that blooms there i have shaped myself into a beast to protect my soft, pink insides: that ecosystem of affluent ambition and i will hold that forced form for as long as it takes to pour my blood into words
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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rose bush
i am all sharp edges and i draw blood from myself, from others cutting jagged scars as a way of greeting so you'll never forget that you should never touch my skin
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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in bloom
flowers bloom inside my lungs; bouquets of daffodils and wisteria, threaded bunches of lilacs and rose they are the only beauty ever granted unto me and though they steal my breath, growing gardens within my airways i relish the life they bring to my bones, my corpse
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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scarecrow
touch me, break me pull me apart at the seams crack open my ribs, lever out my guts oh so carefully disjoint my fingers, drink my blood like wine make man into a monster, reimagine this body that i don't see as mine
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 5 years
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belladonna
i grow my demons like flowers and they flourish while i wither, sucking up my life to bloom but even i cannot deny they are horrifically beautiful, these manifestations of my misery and i will let them root into my heart for they are a part of me, paradoxically terrible and wonderful, that i cannot live without
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 6 years
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wishing well
the water is dark, glittering with stars: souls trapped, souls promised, exchanged for words empty prayers, never fulfilled
the stones whisper, silver tongued lies of perfection; a world crafted by your imagination, hoping to blind you to the truth
the grass is alive, creeping around your ankles: a silent snare, as if, in time, it will entice you so you'll sell yourself to the dark gods below
it does not want your coins, your petty change for there is only one paying currency for wishes and it's the one thing you should never give
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 6 years
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atlantis
do you ever wonder what it would feel like, to breath water instead of air for fish and fauna to float through your lungs taking root within the cave of your flesh to be an ecosystem, self-contained; more than humanity made of myth, legend
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myvoidedeyes-blog · 6 years
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brush fire
we reach with grasping fists tearing up the grass, the soil stealing nutrients and life from the earth itself as if it will fill the gaping wound we bear as if the entire world would even be enough
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