Scarlet Pantomime

1

The White Nurse

The past is a river, bursting through dams meant to hinder it

No one is safe with me

I don’t have the drugs you need

Vicodin, the heroin, the hash

I couldn’t have you and it made me sick

I was jealous of the moon, for her unending gaze

She could look into your window, uninterrupted, and you, in a daze

Thrilled to have her by your side

She was your rock, and you cooked her in a spoon

Melted the moon, you melted the moon

He said he loved her, but he gunned her down in Time Square

We watched, expectant, as he aimed the gun at her head

The ticks and the leaches

As full and round as summer peaches

The crackles of thunder, electric scent in our clothes

I want you breathless

I think you know

I want the sorrow, the blood from your nose

The dripping tip, harsh taste in the back of my throat

The exquisite break in the bone

And when you melt me down, like I know you will

I want to be your finest dose

The shot that slings you across the sky and sends you falling like little pills

Pouring into my open hand, ready for me to swallow and dream dream dream of you flowing through my bloodstream

242142

can-u-not-my-wayward-son:

i scrolled down for an explanation and there wasn’t one but i think i’m ok with that

(Source: ratak-monodosico)

Reblogged 2 weeks ago from playonplayuh by drcharlesobgynot

The Showman

I thought I would find some inspiration when I looked for your face

Buried in land mines and vague mystical references

Opposing parties, each inundating the other with self important talks

I can’t feel you move me like you used to

I reach across aeons and blankets, cigarette butts and beer cans strewn across the bed to graze your leg with a blunt fingertip

Glittering dead rocks float around the dingy sky and I know all this shit is meaningless compared to the passage of time or the shape of a sparrows broken wing but I still can’t help but feel so hopeless when I look into your eyes

Digital prophets

He confessed in bathroom stalls to men in missionary positions

Received benediction from the tip of a silver needle

"I will submit to no one or nothing except Death itself."

He whispered to himself, such tales of spectacular defeat

Caressing broken rodeo ponies

"They should have carried me across finish lines and into the beds of vapid blondes with sexual ambitions. Instead I’m counting change out of a pickle jar hidden in an empty, mouldering cabinet."

My heroes do not stand. They falter. They are weak. My heroes stare into gun barrels and into the necks of their drinks. But every day, they put their feet on the ground, and stare out the window.

Yet another day, to smolder, to fuck, to stare into the blank eyes of Death and laugh as I piss into the sink.

2271

aseaofquotes:

Poppy Z. Brite, Lost Souls

Reblogged 1 month ago from aseaofquotes by drcharlesobgynot
32419

humansofnewyork:

"I’ve been a deep believer my whole life. 18 years as a Southern Baptist. More than 40 years as a mainline Protestant. I’m an ordained pastor. But it’s just stopped making sense to me. You see people doing terrible things in the name of religion, and you think: ‘Those people believe just as strongly as I do. They’re just as convinced as I am.’ And it just doesn’t make sense anymore. It doesn’t make sense to believe in a God that dabbles in people’s lives. If a plane crashes, and one person survives, everyone thanks God. They say: ‘God had a purpose for that person. God saved her for a reason!’ Do we not realize how cruel that is? Do we not realize how cruel it is to say that if God had a purpose for that person, he also had a purpose in killing everyone else on that plane? And a purpose in starving millions of children? A purpose in slavery and genocide? For every time you say that there’s a purpose behind one person’s success, you invalidate billions of people. You say there is a purpose to their suffering. And that’s just cruel."

Reblogged 2 months ago from sirmitchell by drcharlesobgynot
1

Catechism

I breathed in your compassion

Drugged Apocalypse

I can feel the surrender jettison from your fingertips

Be still, my earthly vessel

The beads i caress are as slick as your nubile navel

I want a new church

A new body to exalt in, a new sin to be washed from my skin

Be still, my wicked tongue

I will receive communion from your resplendent lips

The wafer, The Body

The Holy Ghost stirs inside of me

You are so exquisite when you cry

Like the Mother when she lost her Holy Son

A dove smashed against a windowpane

I will declare my devotion to the heaven the startles the world

In your sleepy eyes

I see God, and I am at peace again

351993

genderterrorist:

leowithani:

Shut you up real fast.

DAMN

(Source: chiraa-khoor)

Reblogged 2 months ago from rosalie124 by drcharlesobgynot

Cruel men and submissive women

Begging on their pink knees for you

We all fall victim to our suicidal narcissism

Praying to pagan women with eyes like clean saucers of milk

Alabaster goddesses making the scene

In their cocaine glory and New York ways

Garbage on the street corners, dust in my eyes

No matter how much power you have, how much money, gems, lovers and friends, you still search the internet looking to get fucked.

You are such a fucking bore.

Aesthetics and Broken Bones

My city is humming

She is a live wire, thrumming and spitting and ending mens lives

A melted wax candle, Fourth of July swastika

She had Vicodin in her bloodstream

"We want the big game." She breathed into my brain, tugged on my earring with her delicate tongue

I can still feels the tendrils of smoke curling around my eyes, making them water

Impeccable monsters.

My baby is a loaded gun

I put her in my mouth

And watch the world explode

Theme By Idraki and Powered by Tumblr 2010.
Typerwriter and Paper Image Courtesy of Google. Icon Credited to Webdesignerdepot