The Dreaming Corner ~ vol. 02

,your smile is like a comma,
crooked teeth
and slanted letters
a lisp and the silence
in your lungs
with every syllable
uttered
words like tunnels
through unhinged gateways,
a voice scratching
rust
the eagerness
hitting a bump on the tracks;
discontinued- virgin birthin the mind of my special comatose
    violets,
i am a desirable hung-over afterthought;
in the eyes of my warm & lovesick
    voyager,
i am the incense of my mother’s
    alcoholic aftershock
watch the consuming stars as they
    break
along my paper-thin atmosphere’s
    ribcage
my trachea is a channeled beautification
in between your restless lips & teeth,
biting down & tasting the ginger
    daybreak,
rainwater over my planet that bleeds
    solitary
let the music of our hungry duplicity
    flourish
along these histrionic flowerbeds that
    beg for beauty
i am a shadowy & intoxicated timepiece
amongst the wreckage of my jupiter’s
    anguish;
& i will dangle my head as my eyes drip
    sore,
listening to your undying words
    twisting my maxilla
206 bones holding this war-trodden
    framework,
& not a lone soul rests between my
    ragged lungs Long-Distance Longing.I kissed every letter
I ever sent,
Trusting that you'd touch
Your lips to them, too;
That we were making love
For the cost of postage.
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
apologises
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
by ignoring
her beautiful words
and telling her to
shut up,
keep it down,
nobody cares.
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.<da:thumb id="483760748"/> not enough sleep but a little more confidence it is 2 am.
i am not beautiful, but
it's just before early
and a little past late
so my brain is just hazy enough
and i am slowly
slowly
convincing myself that
i could be.<da:thumb id="482292978"/>

LongingI unfurl behind
careful eardrums,
hearing your comatose heartbeat
slow my own.
We are broken
by decisions and movement.
We are bleeding out
from between the slots
of my ribs, and you
are sobbing pulsebeats
through sleeping veins.
Will we crumble? Will we
disintegrate into fantasies
and childhood daisy chains?
I am longing for the days
of holding hands against
the concrete, making basement angels
out of glowing lights and
pool cue fingers, wasting
countless sunsets getting tangled
in numbers and arms and rehearsals
and legs.
I am longing for the days
of leaping because we can,
and never looking back.
My nerves are clinging to yours
on top of tired skin. You are
slipping from their grasp,
but at least I can
always find you
by the sounds of your dreams
dripping through the weeds. Sleep SweeperSleep Sweeper
poets love writing about elegiac features.
this is idyllic when auroras
bring out cheekbones.
and we love to proclaim verse
in bird cage ribs of the depressed,
of the capricious and muted,
but we cannot see these things
when the moon is eclipsed.
 
and no one ever writes
about the poetry in a person,
but how the person is poetic.
 
how they speak iambs,
move in rhythm,
look in stanzas,
stand in meters,
react in spaces,
breathe in line breaks.
 
and it is cold hands,
planting clawed tendrils
against the soil of a human,
wings spread and close
like a cloak diluting (f)light.
growing in their skin
like stramonium
starting in the middle of their chest.
petals rising from
under their breast
clutching bones
in the devil’s snare.
 
but no one writes about the
wishful, wistful, wisp full whispers
that tickle eardrums
playing sleep sweepers.
the tail that is the whisk broom
holding magic and wizardry
as love encompasses me in a spell.
sweeping somb Starlight kisses and bed sheet hugsMy teeth are
coffee-stained,
and my eyes
hold dark pockets
of graphite
because of all
the late nights
I let the starlight
kiss me,
and my bed sheets
embrace me,
because I realized
you never had,
and now-
you never would.
Drink the Moondrink the moon,
star-studded children.
her essence blesses
those that
       burn the brightest,
       work the hardest, and
       love the deepest.<da:thumb id="440668006"/> Tender TransmissionsTender Transmissions    3/30/09
We share secrets in the darkest of nights.
The stars and moon are veiled.
Our speech consists of silent codes
and cryptic signs.
In ethereal passages we connect
through mind tunnels and wormholes.
As the span expands and our
closeness is threatened,
intimate details break off and
scatter like stardust.
Upon a green and yellow hill
we recite our sad tales.
Although I am firmly rooted to
the earth, somehow I must bend
to you, like a tree searching for sunlight.
The rain is now washing away my filth.
But you - you purify my soul.
You reach to me with sinuous tendrils
that wrap around my brain stem
and release euphoric endorphins.
I feel like I am floating, weightless
underwater. You let out a muffled
scream, and as the air bubbles rise
to the surface, the meaning evaporates.
Our tenuous thread is drifting with the tide.
Our esoteric conversations baffle
the onlookers and we laugh to ourselves.
We are two beings melding into one.
And didn't want to see.nostalgia greets my thoughts
and introduces himself. don't lie to me, i say. that's not how things used to be. it cannot possibly be me.
sunshine is standard in the photographs I see. and my smile. i didn't recognise myself.
the pathetic fallacy is almost enchanting.
now i know that i'm not happy in my own skin.
other than that, i don't know how else to begin.

The Dreaming Corner is a feature series highlighting pieces of literature
that have touched and inspired me, making me want to share it with others
in this wonderful community I'm proud to call my own little hub.

Please, give these writers a minute of your time, and enjoy

With love,
Lady-Yume




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previous volumes:
★ vol. 01

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