lemonade II
lost access to the lemonade account for some reason so I’ll be posting/reposting here
lemonade II
lost access to the lemonade account for some reason so I’ll be posting/reposting here
lost access to the lemonade account for some reason so I’ll be posting/reposting here
lost access to the lemonade account for some reason so I’ll be posting/reposting here
the water is still and smooth in the pool and the bee floats gracefully wings waterlogged, pollen drifting away but it breaks, ripples, splashes- as children, laughing, jump in and the bee is swept away, away down the drain
and oh, the octopus holds a knife in each hand but the cat scoffs, you’re one short but the cat is curious, too curious and the octopus has done its job well and the cat is swept away, away out to sea
but oh, the night is silent and dark and the people are careless stumbling far from streetlights shadows lurking in alleyways and the body is swept away, away up to the sky
_moriturism __(n.)- a tiny jolt of awareness that someday you will die _
there’s a shovel in my hands and grass stains on my knees I’m going out digging (I’m going out burying)
the moon is high in the sky and low in the dewdrops, there are crickets singing in the grass (they don’t know what I’ve done)
I dug a hole six feet deep, with crickets the only sound, and I buried you there (I buried you there)
there by the old oak swing, there by the dried-up creek, there where I used the catch the crickets (there where you would let them go)
my hands are empty, my knees scraped and scabbed; I’ve been out digging (I’ve been out burying)
the crickets are singing (the crickets are singing) they know they know they know
_(whelve [v.] to bury something _ deep; to hide)
you are a god and they will follow you anywhere
you are Apollo and you have traded your bow and your golden crown for a knife and a mean right hook
your ichor splatters against concrete and brick in back alleyways because it’s the only time you feel divine again
there are stars in your eyes and you see olympus when your vision goes white, asphodel in stolen and unearned moments of rest
(olympus is white and unstained, painfully pure, the faces of your family hold nothing but apathy and it burns)
you were Apollo and now you are not and you cannot go back
you were a god and now you are not and you cannot go back
but they see the chains of divinity looped around your neck and through your skin and they will follow you
with bruised fists and broken limbs they will follow you as you stain the city gold
(the gods watch as you bleed and they laugh, they laugh and are so beautifully blind)
so bleed, golden boy, bleed and raise yourself, you need not be a god to be a godkiller
so bleed, Apollo, bleed,
and olympus will bleed in your wake
(aureolus [adj.]- gilded, adorned, or covered in gold)
there’s an angel on earth (an impartial observer) come to witness the folly of humanity to watch, unsleeping, unbreathing, unliving (it forgets itself) it sees the dapple of light through leaves and the rippling of fresh river water and (it forgets itself). it goes to sleep.
she wakes up to an unbearable weight. the world itself sits on her chest and calls her to the stand, in a court of outdated history, the judge bears a gavel of convention and the jury hides behind masks of tradition, they deem her unworthy. millions of eyes open (millions of eyes close) she does not want to see.
she wakes up to blood staining the sheets, buried deep under her nails, flushed down an unsympathetic toilet, she takes a pill to dull the pain. she takes a pill to dull the pain. she takes a pill to dull the pain. her mind writhes and seethes but she must remain emotionless. in the mirror her halo drips red.
she wakes up empty, her shadow screams in anguish (something is missing) her mouth doesn’t move. she makes no sound. to be human is to be holy. (to be human is to be forsaken)
(where are her wings?) (where are her wings?) (where are her wings?)
it will never fly again
(alpas [v.]- to become free; to break loose)