~tristesse-eternelle
is full of lies and laughter
Newest
VindicationI am the party cocktail With thick salt around the rim Waiting to sear and burnVindication
Your flesh
To test your strength and resolve To see if you can love me Happy, angry, and all the rest
I am the spiked punch That makes you dizzy That makes you spineless
Vomitrocious
I am pretty lights that tantalize And distract you from your woe And your duty I am dirty money that needs to be Smoothed over
Temptress, seductress &nbs
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Dear Old House I Grew Up In It was never a normal door or a normal house. I'd walk up and be met with two doors and then in and be met with two sets of stairs: one leading up, the other down. I could descend into my childhood cellar or rise above it on any given 1990s summer day. My childhood had dead lamp shades and my cousin's cut out play-boy ladies on the wall. Their tans amazed me; how did they get white triangles on their breasts? It eluded me at the time, at a time where innocence was cherished and innocence just happened to be my pseudonym. The bare-naked-ladies from Playboy 1996 were plastered over traditional sevDear Old House I Grew Up In
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Persephone and the PomegranateThe flush of youth plays about her facePersephone and the Pomegranate
She is nearly bursting with life
Filled with the juice of existence and
Percolating, waiting at the tip-toes of her limbs She is scarlet and divine She is sweet and swelling With pride A terrible sin, in a terrible place And she is mine and she and she as well Seed one through six A mistake, an indulgence, a need But how the devil's clock does tick For my hungry greed
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Belly FruitI didn't go into work today but instead I went to the graveyard I breathed in the damp trees and the moist earth andBelly Fruit
Skirted around all the newly turned graves With newly dead babies and children and perhaps A few old people I see the coffins everyday and I wonder if I had eaten my peas Instead of wasting them Would this child have lived? Would that infant have survived to take my place as a waster Of greens and vegetables?
I didn't go to work today but I did go to a graveyard before the snow Could hide it and divide it into sections of Cold, colder,
by ~tristesse-eternelle
Favourites
For YouIt is not a regretful time I write in, though it is full of half empty coffee cups and dumpsters that smell like “I forgot again. I forgot again.” Being lost in a crowd is nothing more than not missing you when I sleep and scratching away my first layer of skin when I’m awake and never knowing which way I should take when the traffic lights turn and turn and turn, and I’m at a stand still because there’s something that something is supposed to be and I understand that one day fate will have eaten me fully and while it gnaws on my long brown hair I thinkFor You
by *Miseria-Cantare
The TempoA while back a colleague of mine brought up in a conversation that somewhere in the world someone dies with every second that passes by. On the other side of that coin, he said, every second someone is born. He said it so matter-of-factly, as though it made perfect sense that there be some sort of universal scale of grief and happiness, life and death. I don’t know for sure that what he said was true, but today there’s two particular seconds I can’t seem to get off my mind. I used to have this business associate by the name of James Silver. He was pretty young to be as far along as he was. I can’t honestly sayThe Tempo
by ~SlickFiction
Devious Journal Entry
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Manassas, Va
- Personal Quote: If you cry about a nickle, you'll die about a dime
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In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
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Closed Account
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In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
'Tis Brittany. Nice to see you.
Your poetry is *awesome*. Don't ever think anything else.
Who is this?
And thanks for the compliment
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In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo
~Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I take your advice.
Thanks
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