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cliffcliff
e.bojnowski

on velvet roads,
I impale a belated dawn
with my incisors and
shiver with perfect leaves-

I have no qualms
with the dark hills
that slope
and stagger into
a bed of scorched fly husks:

where
the thrum of the ground
melds
with the rapids in
my clairvoyant ears.

Star SwallowerShe's
an enigma.
her head, a stadium drowning with applause.
yet its seats are empty like the notebooks
where armies of words should be marching.
instead she dismantles clocks
thinking she can play with time.
behind the mountains lurks a darker reasoning
a twisted labyrinth of rationalizations
hidden from the suns brilliance.

Years alone beneath the bleached fluorescent
reading those already dancing in the moonlight.
she is living a literary half-life through them
hiding from the symmetry of the writer.
licking salty rocks of excuses.
saving her secrets for posthumous excavation.
decades of productivity left for moths to chew.
you're throw

SolsticeOnce upon a time, when you were still sunlighthouses and shimmering existence wherever you were needed most, you found him. He was November, shaky on his first last legs, and you saw through the mind-twistings he feigned to the mind-twistings that were really there, knotted up in his dreams.

You were still birdsong then, and thunderstorms, and your bodyheat melted the frost claws that held him tight. You held onto him as his November deepened. When he howled, you howled with him, and the wind played with your voices and pressed the softness of your lungs against your cageribs—and then against each other's.

November became solstice, and

preludesi.
blue rose into the city backdrop
like balloons, a million for the
morning sun prelude.

ii.
i've not slept a dream
but i have cried a salty face
and letters spilled like beans
into my moleskine,
almost as virgin as i once was
with few stories between my covers.

iii.
the kettle's belly boils
like my head upon a pillow.

iv.
i am guilty for rarely finishing my tea
even when i use the small mugs;
pour, rinse, repeat.

v.
perhaps today i will play dead.

vi.
perched behind my blinds
it dawns on me that i am surrounded
by walled neighbours, strangers,
they're just preludes to lovers
the way i am always
prelude to the one.

SimbelmyneThere is silence here, upon
stale skull tombs—
these everminds are stilling...

(And yet their tragedies
shall endure in the pallor of the
flowers in your hands.)

a ribcage drenched in dust i have your ribcage, you said.
what should i put in it?

i told you i'd always wanted a fire,
the kind that would fill my eyes with starlight
and pump my blood full of passion, but

you're made of wildflowers, you said.
a fire would burn you to ash.

you wanted to fill my chest with
the sound of a train, whistling
far away in the night;
with the sound of rain smacking leaves;
with the sound the wind makes
when it seems like it's trying to speak

and you wanted to throw in the
smell of midnight in august
and the feeling of sand being
sucked out from under your feet
when the ocean inhales,
and the strange little moment of
bitter

sea featherin the breaking of the morning we tore apart our ivory shells
our blood-red hearts are saturated in spume & sea spells
with the ache from the brine gathering around you
your ankles slippery, your mouth
moving liquid through
mine
i had never seen a more beautiful shoreline

gunmetal breaths
on shivering, silver shores

you were ebbing to my flowing
you were coming; i was going

i wrote in the sand that i was yours

on the coast i could feel
salt on my tongue - dew from the
ocean in my lungs
& i was your pearl
latched from the inside to keep everyone out
speaking in rhymes, & cotton tides

this is when you pull my body fro

Davaothe equatorial sun
soft-etched on my skin,
there, del sur

islands away

the tan lines of shallow-bathing
in your eyes

there is so much time between

you
and
I

you spoil me, featherbreath
do i dare commit my memory
into dreams?

i laugh upon waking,
i did not realize--
i run when i go to you

loose lips sink shipsan ocean has been thrown wide open over your head,
and remarkably you, too, are sinkable–

every verbal, every vocal, is dogged by the epiphany:
an ocean has been thrown wide open over your head

and all bodies wreck, ships and submarines.
and remarkably you, too, are sinkable.

tree, fiddler crabIt took days to hollow out the soft parts
of the trunk, dig out the tree-flesh and sap,
polish the raw wood so that when he sat,
there would be no splinters. He carved his name
into the side, like a blessing, a declaration
of good fortune, and stowed his forest inside.

Never Told He thinks it's odd, sometimes, though he's not certain why.

A sense of dislocation, perhaps. Like cutting yourself on an unsharpened blade. He walks the immense aisles of the cathedral, footsteps echoing hollowly into the blue shadows of high vaulted ceilings and arches, stone figures watching him from above as he, in turn, watches dawn play across their carved and weathered faces. The grandeur of this place is oddly soothing in the solitude it affords him. A holy place, just hushed, here suspended in the silence after Mattins when most have shuffled out. It's a favorite moment of his, a favorite service to attend, and today it gives him p

the day we diedIt started when space imploded
you pulled me back, landed me on the moon,
so we could sit in the vacuum silence
and watch suns spiral down to hell.

You radiated, my minuscule flare,
your worn heat baked my bones brittle,
but it somehow made me stronger.

-

It ended when your eyes slid lateral,
fractured feelings leaking out in tears;
it was the first and last thing
I ever saw again.

This ridiculous happenstance,
simple in its impossibility,
was what broke us apart:

While solar light is beautiful,
it blinds when reflected by
automobile metal.

crystallophonethere is a punchcard sin
like a queen of spades smoldering in an alley.

Engine,
you hear how the gears churn,
singing faster than we did before
back when black magic dropped like a
pair of socks from the sky with supplies
taped to a note that said
(oh, look at you now)
'U.S.A.,
freedom.'

such a beautiful brain:
what
what girl
runs on gasoline?

have a gallon
or we can call it a balloon,
and a new pair of glasses
for your tapered eyes
(you peel the bark back on the logs,
darling,
but you're not sure what you see),
and life says,
either nail jello to a tree,
successfully,

or keep your
icicles hanging from the eaves,
ca

Liquid Cityhere, at the bottom - lovers.
there are lovers disassembling
themselveslost in and to the
desperate motion in
of - waves.

- did you think the continents
moved themselves? see them slip,

in an open sleep. less go, come.
come and, and - again. trembling

here, at the bottom - their eyes
are lightless. hollow bodies left
restless,

the sea does not sleep.

He WasHe was a tad too much on the anachronistic side and I was almost rudely schizophrenic. He taught me that touch was a gift only death could bring for me. So I swam through film strips caked with silver bromide, that made my eyes red and smelled the way water does when you know you're going to drown, to leap towards this friend - this world - I was too far from to experience.

He felt my veins bulge - so transparent, so prominent - every time my fingers would mischievously curl into a fist in his luscious chocolatey locks. He would loosen and play with them as he would with stray strands of hair. When I would tell him that it hurt too much, he

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overdose.drug me.
lull me away.
cloud my mind.
you pull me into a world of jagged sparkling lights,
and leave me there to piece together the puzzle.

you twirl me into a place of smiles and lies,
and i can only recover by whole-heartedly believing both.

you hurl me into a world of cold sweat and trembles,
and place a sun into the palm of my hand.

drug me.
sharpen my senses.
fog up my vision.
don't make me a world of normal-ness and generality,
i won't be able to stay up on my feet.

don't make me a world of black and white,
i won't be able to follow the red line that leads me to you.

don't make me a world of just 'yes' and 'no',
i won'

heartstrings.i never realized how much i needed my heart until you ripped it away by the heartstrings and ran away with it thumping against your pocket.

sometimes my fingers stretch out
under the illusion something would be there
to catch them.

sometimes i hear you call,
but whenever i look back there is nothing more
then the emptiness you left in my heart.

sometimes i see the blur of moving black hair, and
the heartstopping towering frame, and i expect that
it's you looking back at me. but it never is.

sometimes i feel like my heart happily skips a bit
when i recall that heart-warming embrace that
brought me years of undefined love and affec

freak.i colour my wrists red just because it might scare some people.

i scrub my hair extra hard just to scrub the dirty out.

i keep a switchblade in between my crevices just in case i need it.

i scribble all over a piece of paper just to see the charcoal run out.

i sleep right by the wall just to feel the chill of its breath.

i dip my hands in water just to see if the Loch Ness Monster would invite me into his lair.

i bunch up the corner of my shirt just to avoid seeing the perfectly ironed out smoothness.

i roll marbles along the floor just to feel the soothing throb when i step on them.

i stand with my face towards the sky just to deligh

the light of friendship.by the time i'm withered and old,
i'll have the memories of each of you
etched into the grooves of my
old beating heart.

by the time i'm withered and old,
we would have stood over the horizon
hand in hand, doused in the glow
of the mighty sun.

by the time i'm withered and old,
we would have built a majestic fortress,
which stores our hurts, our hopes,
our love and trust.

by the time i'm withered and old,
we would have quietly thanked
the heavens for directing you to me,
and me to you.

by the time i'm withered and old,
we would have picked at the scar
they call life and pressed against the wound,
blood dotting the paths of o

our happy ending.three;
numerous times you've told me
that i was a never-ending hole-
roughly dug out, roughly finished-
and yet you'd be glad to be the one
falling into me, with me.

somehow we managed to hit the ground.

two;
once you led me through a forest,
blindfolded, with your open hand as
my guide. you let go of me for a split
second, and right then and there, i
wondered how i would deal with life
without you.

somehow i managed to blindly crash through the maze.

one;
everyday you would not hesitate to
place your forehead against mine,
tremble your lashes against mine, and
breathe with me. and our lips would
meet as we pulled away

clockwork hearts.i tend to see you in a haze.
it never clears up for me.

turning back to my dreams
and nightmares, i've begun
searching for answers. i've
stood 100 feet into the sky,
listening to the calls of the
heavens.

i screamed my heart out,
leaving it brittle and dry.
i ordered my own destruction,
and still, no answer.

do me a favour?
remember me.

because i don't remember
you anymore. pages of the
past have faded away, leaving
the leather back dusted on the
cold wooden floor. time doesn't
matter now, as clockwork hearts
rust in time.

and i've looked everywhere
but there's no possible way
back to you.

and as i stepped out of the b

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Submitted: September 25, 2012
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moondust.

by ~electrickiss, Sep 25, 2012, 8:11:40 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

_{we live in a world where our lungs are black and outlined with angry streaks of red. we plant diseases and destruction in the holes of our stomachs and watch them grow – they shoot up fast and clog up our throats with ashy leaves.

our fingernails are ripped, jagged edges digging into pale skin and leaving white hot lines in their wake. our wings are crumpled, feathers bent and pressing into the expanse of our backs – they're the weights on our shoulders, and there's no space left for anything else.

your tongue is cracked and so is mine. words no longer form, sounds no longer rise. dreams and wishes fall into the cracks as nightmares rush past them out into the open. that breathtaking sequel to life you were hoping for no longer exists – we are now aimless, hopeless, and craving for sin.

we swallow moons and exhale moondust; we stray from orbits and into vacuums. but all we ever wanted were the touch of lightly powdered lips against our flesh.}