weirdo writes things

Malpractice In Memory I’ll keep coming back. I sit in the dregs of the loaded syringe, Ready to scurry in front of the meds And pierce through memory’s thinning membrane. It’s I, not the steel, who would bite at your skin. I’ll keep coming back. I’m there in a glance of a porcelain blue: A trigger in anyone clothed in that horrid hue, A flashbang you often uncover anew, An image you often forget… is you. I’ll keep coming back. On days when your stomach is thrashing its bounds No matter if Winter’s just making her rounds, Those doctors will linger for you, their playground. But when your tears fly and you blink, there’s no one around.      I'll keep coming back,      But only as long as it takes to hurt you.      Then I'll vanish before the question even escapes your lips,      You will shout to a room that was always without me,      “Why?”

  Safety In Blunders / Close Toxins You, The shield of tears, Caress my plush cheeks and Bleed through, soak through, pour through Pore by trembling pore. Bring your salt to tongue and Give me kisses to taste. And you, The blanket of ocean-deep eyes, Should I sink or dive? Will your trembling speak towards fear or ire? In your plurality of soft rays, your long-held gaze... Will I- Should I- May I drown? Or yet, Am I the ocean and you my prey? And you, The chattering teeth, I wish to be your quilt but not your food. But with the nerves of us two freezing fools, I worry for too close a cling, lest chatter should bite. Are we too volatile for purpose? And you, The din of a sigh, May you sparkle in  your small humanity. I love you. Dear god, I'm sorry I love you. All of you, Is the blood we pump our own? Or do we merely pass this pulse around? When the heart beats out a sigh, does sight leave our eyes? Do the teeth brush day-to-day with tears or with laughter To clean up this mudd...

A Comfy Floor with Comfy Toppings We’re here, Slouched on the floor, Breaking every social rule, Not speaking because we’re smiling At the light on my computer, or The paper petrichor of his unfinished flipbook, or Each resonant crunch of her dusty Doritos, or Maybe none of that.   We’re here, Relaxed on the floor, Breaking every social rule, No activities, No dinners, No words in the air, None of that.   We’re here, Snuggled on the floor, Breaking every social rule and then some, Not whispering because we’re all we need, Our heads pay no heed to any bubble, Bonking gently on each other; We’re all our personal space. Our limbs pretzel upon whatever; Arms and legs and bodies embraced. Maybe none of that Should be so scary.

To Live Upon a Platen With every keystroke of God, Her typeface darkens the sky. The black and crimson veil of inky life She weaves upon this field of white. The veil so gently caresses the stars to their dull slumber. In the name of creation, she ruptures the platen page planet. The heavens’ steel rushes forth, carving canyons into pure snow. The stains it leaks reek of forever: every perfection a sin, every mistake a weak wound. The scars She invokes on the field will last until fire takes all. She is no deity without competition. And those fire-wielding tyrants of capital-H Him Will always take shelter in the ashes of burnt creation. But She'll never let them take Her hands. Nor the planets She's sculpted.

Codepen-dance She wore a close-eyed smile, She concealed her sullen fangs, She wore bright, paintstroke hair, She concealed her rain barrel for catching empathy. She warms me like a pillow plush as fresh lips, She covers the bed of nails it rests upon, She warms my heart beneath her tattered-sheet soul, She covers the radiant blood on her hands squeezing it. I will only glimpse a cemetery with two adjacent plots for us, I will deny that pair of graves which will hold no funeral, I will only glimpse the pregnant lack of would-be visitors she will turn away. I will deny having naught but mirrors in the palms of every extended hand reflecting What light there could have been if I only knew I could have grasped them.

Empathy-Tinted Glasses ,I, ,dedicate, ,my, ,wrath, ,to, ,you, ,Heart, ,Over, ,My, ,Eyes, ,I, ,dedicate, ,these, ,thirsty, ,tears, ,to, ,the, ,bitter,ness, ,you, ,incessantly, ,refuse, ,I, ,WRITHE, ,WRITHE, ,I’m, ,the, ,flesh,ly, ,worm, ,tran,sfixed, ,on, ,th’tip’o’th’,Spear, ,i, ,WRITHE, ,while, ,you, ,just, ,stare, ,without, ,a, ,bite, ,Blind, ,fish, ,Blind, ,Fish, ,I, ,dedicate, ,my, ,conflict, ,to, ,you,the, ,Beautiful, ,Fool, ,Entropic, ,movements, ,catching, ,friend, ,and, ,fiend, ,in, ,hugs, ,limbs, ,flying,tears, ,flying,cut, ,deep, ,Deep, with, ,bladed, ,limbs, ,bladed,tears, ,bifur,cating, ,this, ,wrath, ,and, ,you, ,Dance, , ,just, ,moving, ,on, ,en,smiled,

Nature, what a Death She Gave! Take me on a tour of a place you've never been. On a hike I yearned to find your best beauty, but Instead you sought for my soul. You thrash me against your veritable rocks, And digest me into your erosive slide. Let me respire through your eyes And feel your movement in every moment.      You’ve never been here.      You've never been to me. Claim it. Steal it. Relinquish it into the earth: From here my flesh is yours. Dissolve it into the soil. We'll tell stories of the living to each little ammonite Until I forget how to think in words. kiwen lon la ona li pona. It’s good to be a rock: Eventually, everyone will hold hands in the dirt. Speak my dying words unto each root. Send my blood to the trees and crystallize my mind. These temporary remains, make them beautiful in the mud. Bid farewell my bones and see me raptured for it. Maybe immortality is just this natural death.

With Love, Poem Upon those keys your fingers rest the same. Alight and aflame your eyes have screamed my name And how I've missed you too, O' Author time has shamed. You laid your pen in bed with Prose, dear Prose. For months, with fire the word count rose and rose And left me down below. I feared the day The clouds would block your sight and steal away The ink and quill with which we used to play. But as you climbed up Babel's Tower of Words That fire brought rain to leave me unobscured. And that's when I knew my words still were heard. Oh now I see you've always clung to me, Awaiting the time to fall back home to me! Your cushion, friend, and family is me! Just take your time and watch us climb the clouds. Our words are loud, so make us proud and new heights will ever be found With love, the Poem who first set flint to flames. With love, the Poem whom time has never shamed.

Dream House as Perpetuity in Physical Linguistics 3 May, 2025             Carmen Maria Machado’s memoir titled In the Dream House is without a doubt a masterpiece in experimentation of form. Spanning 144 mini-chapters, the memoir illustrates the author’s unsung story of domestic abuse within a queer relationship. One of the questions at the heart of the memoir is the very same many folks ask victims of abuse: “why did you not leave sooner?”. Machado’s story reveals the cyclical nature of abuse that perpetuates it into an all-encompassing, time-spanning experience. Additionally, the book seeks to bring awareness to the invisibility of queer domestic abuse (and emotional abuse at large) by bringing the reader into the story and universalizing it. How Machado manages to accomplish these goals is—whether intentionally or not—partly due to her manipulation of Einstein’s theory of special relativity alongside Saussurean linguistics. ...

 

Personal Business ,Oh, ,how, ,I, ,Writhe, ,in, ,your, ,road, ,of, ,Anger, ,your, ,road, ,of, ,..., ,shrinking, ,pupils, ,shaking, ,liquid, ,salt, ,falling, ,from, ,Eyes, ,reflected, ,in, ,yours, ,it, ,tastes, ,good; ,gold,-,laced, ,silk, ,ties, ,my, ,thumbs, ,to, ,my, ,back, ,and, ,my, ,feet, ,to, ,the, ,road, ,too, ,precious-to-break, ,well, ,if, ,you, ,don’t,                               ,stop, ,this, ,car, ,it, ,will, ,hit, ,m .