ImmuneI do not pretendImmune by Meggie272
the earth loves me.
Darwin breathes down my neck.
The ocean breathes down my bones.
I am a flute hollowed
by spittle and rain. And I am not
special, nor alone.
I had an ear infection when I was newborn. Two
hundred years ago I would have died from it. I
would have been cut short -
small and screaming.
Every time I step outside at night, the trees tell me:
you’re not safe. A thousand antibiotics
can’t make you safe.
I’m not frightened.
I would lie myself down and wait for the tide.
I would do it any day.
to everything there is a seasonI.to everything there is a season by Meggie272
as a flower or a man,
i shall burst,
as a corpse, i shall
peel away, and
return to the earth,
the air. i'll be in
your lungs yet.
look, it’s not that i’m not
a little bit charmed
by the concentric circles
of existence, and the love,
the bitter, bright and
it’s not that i don’t like
carrying this body that is a miracle,
a miracle in the sum of its parts.
kahlo got it, she knew what
she was talking about –
but i won’t put words
in a dead woman’s mouth.
and the hot sweat of it here,
the pain, the fuck and the sour wine
of it here,
it isn’t really chaining me
down. i’m thinking of
did i ever tell you
i’d like to die on my back,
looking at the sky?
in one of those faraway places
i saw from the car as a child, the top of a hill
seen from a distance; someone else’s farm,
someone else’s land. someone else’s emptiness,
a thin line of grass between
dirt and the inf
Keep your powder dryi.Keep your powder dry by Meggie272
he looks away, the lines under
and around his mudded eyes as
known to me as my own,
as known to me as the hot air
of the death months, the death December,
the blowfly fester, the light stretched
and bright to breaking;
as known to me
as the eucalyptus leaves
that are slicks of fragrant summer
in every January of every year I have
ever lived –
as known to me as the smell of my
floating ’cross the ruined cities
of Christmas lunch –
i am six. he puts the air rifle
against my shoulder, and tells me to
pull the trigger tight.
i’ll try, dad,
TerritoryI am born.Territory by nyfromdahood
I am with mother.
I am warm.
This world is loud,
There are so many scents,
Mother's warmth will keep me safe.
I have two brothers, they are fun.
I compete with them, I fight with them.
I am the stronger of the two, and I am always the first to eat.
Mother is a good hunter, and soon I shall join her.
Mother is gone, she has abondoned us.
No matter, I will move on, I am plenty strong to fend for myself.
But I must search for new land, this one has too little to compete for.
I have not eaten for days, I am starving, but I must move on.
I smell a river a few miles ahead, and I see game.
There is an old one here, but I can handle him.
This land is now mine.
My brother has found me, he wants a share.
He is still weak, he cannot handle me.
I lick his blood off my skin.
Months go by, I find a mate.
She leaves this land before I see my spawn, good riddance.
This land is once again mine and mine alone.
No one can take it from me.
Years go by, the land still thrives.
I am wor
cosmic latteyour eyes shine, brilliant as
stars in the darkness
of my mind. I'm
I see you:
like a space-age
mystery, waiting to
come alive at my touch.
theres a reason lust was a sinlights off
she knows he's here.
she can smell the
on his breath.
as he has his way,
she shuts her eyes.
she can't see him,
he can't see her.
just like it always is.
just like he prefers.
it isn't fair
her cries are silent,
and she loses feeling of
eyes shoot open.
eyes roam up.
plastic glowing stars.
only her mind.
she imagines floating,
bouncing from cloud
(she imagines drowning,
the cold, the cool,
she hears birds.
(she thinks clipped wings,
never able to fly
she tastes red.
(she craves red.
she craves metal and
she dreams of tomorrow,
(she waits for tomorrow
cicadas and sun isn't the southi remember
filled with juices of
down my chin,
hibiscus shading me
from the Florida sun.
and bloody noses.
cute little boys and girls
who could only cause
trips up north and
grandparents loving and
sitting on the staircase
the truth of a
felon uncle and
chased by my father.
bathrooms locked tight
with cold tiles,
escaping each fight.
the taste of chocolate;
of cotton candy and fast food.
the feel of being
their words and
i remember -
god, how i remember -
crippling body issues.
the days i believed i was
adored by one and all.
the day my father stopped being my
drunk off sadness and coffeethere was a coffee shop
i once went to with a
woman i once knew.
she wore freedom in
her hair and anger
as her armor.
her only love was
the grande mocha stuck
permanently to her palm.
her love was addictive.
she would sit in her chair,
drinking for infinities.
she would get drunk
off the emptiness
occasionally, she would
sing to me about how
she fucked it all up
about the time she
loved, the time she lost.
the time she died.
her life was miserable
and yet she loved it
as much as her cup.
i do not believe
that her story ends
in happily ever after.
i do believe that's
the way she
would've wrote it.
the broken always hide it besti remember nights wasted counting
the scars in her heart and attempts
to fix the chinks in her well thought-out
i remember sitting under the stars
she barely glanced at and counting
the different ways to reach infinity.
i remember scheming in the basement
of her old home plotting out as many
"fool proof" ways to leave our town behind
and start all over.
i remember the night i heard she left
our town in a plan she never mentioned
considering and i remember the taste of
salty tears on pinked cheeks.
i remember chasing after the stars
that seemed to leave the sky and how
there was a warrant out for the moons arrest.
i remember stumbling into the church's
basement and thinking about how this place
was too holy and clean for her final goodbye.
(i can still hear everyone's fake 'i'm sorrys')
i remember the day i died and had to keep on
living in a world that never shone as bright whilst
she died and got the escape she dreamed about for years.
Parallel Universes and We'd be Married"In another life, I believe we might've been in love."
They spin around together, keeping in time with the music and the waves of people around them.
He looks at her and his uncertainty is clear across his face. He can't decide whether she is trying to make a joke or crazy.
The look on her face is in all seriousness. He decides once again that she is crazy.
"You believe in nothing."
"I believe in that."
They continue to dance in silence. She rests her head on his shoulder. He rests his hands on her ass.
"We were never supposed to wind up like this."
His voice is barely a whisper and yet she can hear him. She reflects on how they were when they were younger.
How they hated each other until he disappeared. How she hates him, still, now that he's reappeared.
"I don't think we ever will."
They're now meeting each other's eyes. Honest words are finally being spoken without the movement of lips.
Understanding. It's come so late and yet all too soon.
The song end