Bumpl Tumbl BLAM

I have officially moved to tumblr. It is lots more exciting. I might sometimes come back here for the other blogs I follow... But otherwise, auf wiedersehn!

Come visit- http://sorejigsaw.tumblr.com/

Tumbl Tumbl Bumpl

I'm thinking of moving onto Tumblr... It seems like there are more people on there, I follow a few of them anyway.
Also Blogger is a bit primitive design-wise. Watch this outer space.

Strainer

Violent curtains clipped on do nothing to quell
sharp light showers scratching my eyelids open
to greet melange flower blancmange worlds, no longer
skeletal but, shadows swapping, their coloured prints left behind my eyes
like the pin pricks I find in the dark.
I fight but I've never before tried
to hold out a stronger impulse than the engulfing light,
heat creeps up my spine, I watch my toes from snow to red,
and a back, moles, clammy multiply-
I touch my nose to shoulder blade, but still my body agitates
to watch the show.
A body so still, the skin exposed so cold it feels like requested death,
like the broken words distant that were almost disconnected,
the dead heats a little and the rattling cars
shake peripheral distractions into vibrating spikes
which pierce my tear ducts and induce sanitary saline.
A small frame weighs in my head far more than its gravity
I can't move its perfect straight arms,
only shift wisps of pale hair from beneath my cheek.
Silence speaks and asks me to stay awake
and I politely decline,
gripping my love log body fallen asleep and praying for a copycat,
empathy pregnancy.
Heart beats meld together as the ventricles get slapped in time
only broken by the vehicles at intervals,
creaking wood, cracking aches and bright disdain.

Après la débardeur, la fin du monde

The whole world is defined by disease, lines,
they laugh and scratch on permanent marker armways
to make it their own. The
boyfriend in a misnomer is making no friends
except
and how can we scream for one another
when disease won't make you dumb?
The world simultaneously screams and spits in paralysis
nothing but asthmatic dissonance escapes
the breath red pit of meaninglessness
tumbling
its hands reach for furniture and time pieces
and claim them,
slippery,
marker won't write yet you're still stuck in your hospital bed
and the marker that loves you instead
writes dots on your shrunken eye sockets
where the incisors would go.
Tiny creatures claim you with claws instead
shining eyes pierce through screens
and tickle your sore coccyx.
Void has fists.