Rubble
chickensfoot
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- Created
- 2 years, 3 months ago
- Creator
- chickensfoot
- Favorites
- 3
Profile
A Vessel
- Trait
- Trait
- Trait
- Trait
- Trait
- Trait
My admiration is an ocean,
you are on the other side of it.
A Soul
It's odd that despite how I cherished you-- As an artist. As a writer. As a companion-- When I try to write of you I am speechless.
My understanding of you had no translatable emotion- I thought of you and felt: "Yes."
You were an extension of myself. So how did I lose us? How does a hand drop its fingers? Of all the things I had loved, I never fathomed it possible.
I have no more words for you.
- Likes
- Likes
- Likes
- Dislikes
- Dislikes
- Dislikes
A Dream
I knew it was you when the lights cut out and my entire world expanded into shards of blood and flocks of glass.
I imagined your face to be like death— impartial and cold. But It was beautiful, as angels are in all of their foreign terror. “Do not be afraid,” they said, and so said you to me before I died.
I wonder how you'd look, holding my life against your palms,
or in your teeth.
A Memory
You are poppy seeds. And licorice.
Slow death by nostalgia.
Childhood, perpetually.
Overwhelming and heavy.
Your self imposed inevitability
Imposes on me an indifference.
I don’t care.
The flux of your existence is heat waves in the vast orange expanse, a shimmer of false water, bright blue and white and made from
layer upon layer of nothing in the screeching, aching, groaning chasm of invalidation.
You are childhood, perpetually.
Slow death by nostalgia.
Overwhelming and heavy.
Poppy seeds. And licorice.
A Desire
A Feeling
Blood, ANIMA!
Art is love, love is work, It hurts to give yourself to it.
Art is work, work is love, Reminding us why we do it.
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