Author: Fatesjoke

I tore her wings to shreds, the street was littered with feathers like blood flowing down the road; an image of poetry more perfect than has ever been written. I know, because she felt the pain of that singular gesture. Later, she sang Lana Del Ray’s “Video Games” to me as I sat on her …

An antique motorcycle comes to a stop in the dark, the antique man that rode it crouches down in the bushes so that the desert strays can come to him, like he is Christ come to save their souls. He isn’t there to save them though, he feeds them so that his soul might feel …

An exposed wire, arching with current determined to make a connection, searching for the thing that would ground the energy, bare copper stripped of insulation, of the protection it had once afforded. The thin strands of its being had been tightly wound, braided together into a single path. She had come and peeled away that …

your voice blurred into static drowned out by the hum of the headphones i wore and for a time i felt you there in the spaces between beats until even that began to pale it all became half heard half seen half felt half remembered moments until even the scars faded memories confused with fantasy

I am not her Prince Charming, she will never be my queen. I feel all the right things and have said all the right words, held her tight and told her that I love her, promised her that it would all be worth it, that I would do everything to make her happy if she …

I counted every breath, every moment I was near her, for I knew that both moment and breath were gifts and she the vessel that shaped them.

She cried to the moon “let it rain” and her tears fell to the ground as she sighed and gave thanks for the darkness.

Her eyes, the palest of blue, stare back at me through strands of blonde hair and her cheeks are a map of tears, tears that she does not cry, that it breaks my heart to see as I hold her face in my hands and want nothing more than to hold her and tell her …

Jasmine sits outside my front door now, and I smell it as I look at the space between stars; I trace patterns in the black, shinning oil of the night sky, slowly choking on starlight and static. The sound of crashing waves has faded, along with the scent of her on my skin; even her …

This piece isn’t one that I wrote. Instead this was written about me, for me. I am standing on your shore stand with me your waters are dark and I shiver put your arm around me this is going to be hard I’ve tied the sinker to the line the bait, something I think it …