Smoke Stone



 smoke stone face
gazing downwards
we touch the light in our hair


maybe you and I, in a different life


But I survived the hooligans on street corners
I brushed away the drunken breath of men
stumbling towards my body
All I have done is survive


and I eat the gods and monsters
and whatever else finds me in the dark
It's called repression baby
and I don't remember the day I died but I
certainly have been dead for a long time


Maybe you and I, sometime


smoke stone mouth
turns cold
like winter
like hands
and these hands will never get to you


You don't care.

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nightlight1220's picture

Repression, Supression

Repression and suppression are two very different things, but I like this because I have an understanding of it all, and feel gratitude now that I have reaped in abundance, the benefits.


Your writes are always beautiful.






...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

thanks night!!

thanks night!!

"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.