once upon a time w/EC

it begins
the vacuous space
to shudder

there is a pressure
the moment after a deep cut
before the blood
wells up
when everything
is sitting on the cusp
of either fine or fire

Never entirely sure what things signified endings and what represented new beginnings, she winced under the weight of his words. Unable to meet his gaze she needed to distract herself in order to hear the seas say they wanted her. So she began to count her scars

it has rained
for days
along the edges of this
snow globe dystopia

numbed by digging
through the varied strata
seeking solutions
in this insoluble sentience
unable to quantify
the water displacement
in saline tears

The two of them were driven by hunger. It’s not what you’d think though, they were hungry for something that blurred the edges of their hard landings. They’d been so busy shouting theme songs over the avalanche that had become flashes of light that maybe they didn’t see each other anymore. In some strobes they just looked like crazed madmen and in others they looked broken and misshapen.

She was at number forty five when it dawned on her she wasn’t even halfway done.

a brass diving bell
sitting lost
half buried
in the silt of the sea floor

with a tinge
of tunnel vision
synthetic archdioceses
the stagnant cadence
cease and resisting
empty pockets of heavenly lies

They slipped safely into the slaughter and laid softly on the broken bottles underneath. Each a different shade of darkness in a garden of altered edges and an alchemy of emptiness

EC is what poetry wants to be when it grows up.

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