Must we pity the dead?

Must we pity the dead?

must we envy them?

a woman lies awake at night

brittle cold on a bed of stone 

waiting waiting and

the stars shine down upon her

I sing a dream to the pit some nights

It knows death, knows horror

and i ask it each night

Must we fear death?

and it rumbles, low, in answer

looking up at the stars I watch them die

watch flares become supernova

dust flies through the thick of night

through the dead of night

like a ghost

laying a trail made of light

booster

cw: suicide

i spent dawn awake

lying in bed thinking of you

astrobrite playing on my shitty,

crappy phone speakers

    tinny, scratching

       

        scott cortez makes me wanna cry

i’ll tell you one day, i’m sure

sitting on my window sill on the third floor

wondering if it opens wide

enough for me to squeeze through

how it’ll feel when i hit the floor

how long it’ll take for me to die 

            for the gardeners to find my body

or some unlucky undergrad walking home

you’ll never know how often i’ve stopped

over these metal railings and stared

    into the depths

    and wanted to climb over and let

    this sack of meat hit the floor

    blood on steel

    supercrush my soul

dawn comes like a potent doom

    wind, flow, mood low

    the world’s scream

i’ll survive this night

    and the next

        and the next

but i’ll never escape

        deep wounds don’t heal

Girl

I'm wearing a jumper

The shoulder pulled, just slightly down

And my sleeves are at my elbows and

A grin, in just the right way

A smirk, corner of my mouth raised

Yeah. It just feels right.

God is a Lichen

Feel it grow along you

O beast of bark and leaf

Feel yourself be coated

Cloaked and draped 

Creeping, creeping

Creeping divine

Feel it grow along you

O you bastion of grit and stone

Feel it pick at your details 

Grasping your sacred secrets

Knowing, knowing

Knowing divine

Feel it grow along you

O great tower of brick and flesh

Feel it share your grandeur

Covering your walls

Growing, growing

Growing divine 

Soul Eaters

Oh pit. 

I feel your warmth around me

as I lie here so afraid

all curled up in your shadow. 

They came for me, pit

with pitchforks and knives and

words that bite. 

Soul eaters. 

Am I a monster, pit? 

I feel that sometimes - 

the way my body just doesn't... 

just refuses to be what they say

is morally good. 

Am I evil just for existing, pit? 

Eddington In The Dark

The path is long, 

such that I can't see the end. 

It makes me scared, 

but also.. giddy, excited,

thrilled.

I'm glad you're here with me. 

It's inset with a thousand dim stars

that light the way and guide my steps. 

Though for all their glow, 

they sure don't make the cyclists 

see us any clearer. 

They don't steal the beauty of the pitch

black field either. 

My favourite part is after the turn

and we come to look upon the

distant suburb itself, all glowing

in its concrete horror. 

And to the south, 

cranes shine in crimson bright. 

And I love, 

the feel of the gravel beneath my feet

the chill of cold autumn air 

a shared joke, quick and snappy. 

We're all too cold and damp and tired to chat. 

And I love, 

the wilderness to our sides 

protected for science and for joy;

the wood we can't enter 

and the pond downhill

where ducks and geese conspire 

in the water reeds. 

And I love, 

the neon rings that hang in the air 

next to the U-bus we never take

(but always want to) 

and the cyberpunk hall. 

The only things I like in this dreadful town. 

And after we trudge there, 

fill our bags with sweets and beer and

food for half a week, at a stretch,

it's time to trudge back

and I love every second of it. 

King's Parade Of A Rainy Morning

It's a rainy day

and I'm feeling miserable. 

Wrapped up in my thin waterproof

and my thick college jumper. 

I can barely see through 

the droplets on my glasses. 

I don't want to go to lectures, 

but then, I never do. 

"Let's skip out," I say 

"and go have breakfast at King's", 

looking up at the old stone walls

and untouched grass

as we dawdle past. 

"Yes, let's," you say, with a grin

and then we keep on walking 

and turn down Bene't Street, away.