PenguinAttack

#21 Where is your voice, little poet, have you forgotten it again lying against a telegraph pole or by the post office front door? Does it lie along the ivory ...

#20 This is how the earth breathes, clustered waves choking down the scrub. Silt washes the grass and the roots taste salt. I have come to leave on the edge ...

#19 Lightning makes home behind my eyelids as darkness falls. White hot flashes are dashes on the road, guiding me back home. Waves like tremours run in the aftermath of ...

#18 I am cocooned, heart beating slow like a dark river covered for winter. Each breath is drawn from a spring held under, bubble gasps through thin lined teeth.

#17 I left spare numbers all over my floor. And not the good kind, the kind where time ran away from me. You grind the small numbers into carpet, threading ...

Madness is a nightmare this year, just like NaPo #14

#16 Claw handed creatures pluck dust from my skirt at night. I cannot see them in the black hole light, but I feel the scrape of their insults picking my ...

#15 I fell away from myself easily, as though peeling skin after sunburn, I shed and suddenly: elsewhere with my tongue between my teeth and pliers at my tears, joint ...

#14 Sadness lives inside me. Sadness made her home in my hollow bones and filled me up. No longer marrow and bone, I am a force of nature cracked in ...

#13 I know your name. Sometimes I whisper it at inopportune times, wrapping my tongue around unused sounds, a child fumbling for articulation. You could think I had forgotten the ...

#12 It is hard to remember that stars do not exist solely for us to agonise over - they live in a time so alien we cannot fathom how they ...

#11 Narcissus drank of himself every day that he lived, eyes full and drowning. He could have dreamed of love so grand that it could shake a foundation, like Goliath ...

#10 And the sun came up, radiant, angry rays streaking down my face, a matador gaze bleeding through the clouds. I became the bull, Taurus ploughing through an underbrush of ...

#9 I have marrow carved from my bones by the hungry connoisseur, small spoons scraping my sides as they empty me out, one mouth at a time. I taste like ...

#8 There are worlds of me caught up in the atmosphere of a spider web spread across my mouth. I taste it there on my tongue, silk wrapping like chains ...