LMS VII: sunlit linen & wine-stained fingertips

7 posts
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herb
Gender Male
Points 5
Reviews 67
Mon May 18, 2026 12:55 am
herb says... · Mon May 18, 2026 12:55 am
bound by these thorny vines to the altar,
bridal & bloodied, what was meant to be
innocent & naive is ruined by the incessant
flies that seek out the warmth of the detritus
still left within my ribs.

comments welcome !! please spoiler them though.

quick warning for violence in case that isn't your thing
Last edited by herb on Thu Jul 16, 2026 1:30 am, edited 4 times in total.
[soon, i will submit myself to the stars]
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herb
Gender Male
Points 5
Reviews 67
Mon Jun 15, 2026 6:14 pm
herb says... · Mon Jun 15, 2026 6:14 pm
week 1 - 33 lines


perpetually disappeared
let the fireflies eat away at my skin, the bones,
and all of the other rotten flesh that comprises
this once-glorious, now-bloodied, body.

i will etch myself along the midnight sky,
so that when you follow the north star--
i am there to misguide you--
kept far away from any remains that
would prove me alive.

still, there will be no salt in the wound,
i will wash over the sins and clear you
of all residual pain-- soothed -- laid to rest
in the moss & moon.

i will learn subtlety-- there will only be soft woods
and all will fall tacet-- only the birds will sing
of the memories that have dissipated--

ascended beyond the firmament,
& crystalized into stardust.


beckoned by soil; grounded
thrown into the fire; the clay that
i have ripped out from my ribs
will now solidify, so that i know
to never escape--

these wounds will cauterize carmine,
engraved deep into the flesh-- shattered
earth within scraped skin. you can
only ever be so statuesque before
you submit to dormancy.

i am burning, but do not douse me.
let me become ash before the wind
sweeps me up-- blown across the fields
of wildflowers-- i will still be here,
just no longer constrained by mortal form.

pour wine over the remaining effigy-- it will
cement me in consecration.
[soon, i will submit myself to the stars]
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herb
Gender Male
Points 5
Reviews 67
Tue Jun 23, 2026 2:48 pm
herb says... · Tue Jun 23, 2026 2:48 pm
week 2 - 46 lines


in the name of the father
(i know it is wrong, but)
i hope you never have another child;
abandoned twice, you will have to deal
with the consequence of loving
too late.

you will never celebrate father's day,
i will not draw you a card and cook
pancakes on the griddle-- and i hope that
the bitterness that lingers on your
tongue is never fully cleansed-- you will
have to marinate in the guilt that
cakes on you like spoiled perfume.

i will not bring you flowers in your deathbed--
no worship for the wicked-- you are not holy, just
not built wholly. the pit in your stomach will
never be filled-- you are insatiable.

there is no amount of incensial cigarette smoke or fine
alcohol that could cleanse you-- not even prayer can
absolve you of this original sin. there is only hope to guide
you and that woman to salvation.

you have already bitten into the apple-- it is too late to spit it out.

i have only knelt in prayer at the curbside
there is something pure about the way all the streetlights
illuminate you from the head down, halo-first, if that makes any sense.
& i am not sure if i believe in divinity, yours or otherwise,
but i am sure as hell that this is the only time
i will ever be close to an angel.

so, to satiate my hunger for knowledge, i will
bite from the only forbidden fruit i have been taught of--
the heart. let it be poisoned, let it be pure,
i will learn from the others how to form myself
into something worthy of rejecting temptation-- avarice, lust,
whatever will let me ascend from monsterdom to martyrdom.

& let me don the robes of a mother, become anew--
shed the skin of a serpent,
& become wholly holy,
a saint. left lingering, waiting for someone
to clear me of all sin. it is an insurmountable task
yet all the sycophants preach their devotion--
i am too newly rebirthed to know otherwise.

they say that i am sculpted in the image of someone who
did not love me enough-- it is the only reason i am stuck on the
side of the road. yearning-- hoping--

my hands have grown tired of clutching on to what proves you alive--
photographs-- so i will let them fly into the wind
with reckless abandon. it is fine--
i will just have to try & remember what your face looked like
& the pity that you held in your eyes.

you may treat me like roadkill-- that is all something like me deserves.
[soon, i will submit myself to the stars]
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Spearmint
Gender Female
Points 35327
Reviews 315
Sun Jun 28, 2026 5:22 am
Spearmint says... · Sun Jun 28, 2026 5:22 am
Spoiler
so what i'm hearing is we're essentially getting another NaPo from herb... what a joyous time! =P seriously though, i love the construction and all the wordplay (like wholly/holy) and references in these.

so that when you follow the north star--
i am there to misguide you--

they say that i am sculpted in the image of someone who
did not love me enough--

these lines delight my brain

keep writing!! ^-^
mint, she/her


.--. / ... ...- -.-. .-.. / - .--. ..- .- / .--- --- ...- .--- / .--- --- .--. .-- / .--. .--- .-.. / .--- -.-- .-.. .... -
=D
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herb
Gender Male
Points 5
Reviews 67
Wed Jul 01, 2026 2:51 am
herb says... · Wed Jul 01, 2026 2:51 am
week 3 - 42 lines


sacrifice & ritual
to save & be saved are
immutable. there are only so many
things that are clear cut, black & white--
like the crack of the glass or the shot in
the dark -- you will break my bones
again & again & all i can do is submit to your will.

i am something less than human,
strange & deranged, an anomaly among
shining stars-- you may simply wave your hand--
there no longer exists object\permanence.

so easily i will be [disappeared]

[younee dn t wor rytha tiwi llcom ebac k]

[soo ni wi llnot exi st.]

carnage & carnations
i slouch in the wicker chair, staring at the night sky,
watching the smoke rise from the porch--
letting you chew me up & spit me out,
i am bleeding, deep & carnal, this is all i have desired.

you say that to love & be loved are to hurt & be hurt
a plethora of scars will etch across my body--
proof that you love me, no matter where you are--
that is what you tell me as you bite down into my heart.

there is no rush or urge to act against you,
i enjoy being wanted. there is something beautiful in letting you
see these parts of myself that even i hadn't known
existed. so you may continue tearing me to shreds--
continue your consumption of all that remains.

i will serve as one of many sacrifices i am sure you have had already.



you wash in like heatwaves
summer has arrived and you have already ushered in your return.

thick canopies of dreams hang low in my periphery,
i know that if i stay up late enough-- i will catch you.
if it is hallucination or phantasm, i do not care--
any remnant of you is enough for me.

heavy, muggy heat lays deep in my throat
as i walk down these streets-- catching glimpses of you
in the deep night sky, illuminated with streetlight stars.
you are running, towards or away from me, i cannot tell.

your face-- in all these photos, it is incredibly blurry--
i cannot discern what kind of face you were making when i took it.
was it pity that you held in your eyes? or was it adoration?
deep down-- i know that i would be okay with either.

& if i focus-- on the hum of cicadas and fireflies--
i swear i hear them singing your name.
[soon, i will submit myself to the stars]
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herb
Gender Male
Points 5
Reviews 67
Thu Jul 09, 2026 11:45 pm
herb says... · Thu Jul 09, 2026 11:45 pm
week 4 - 22 lines

open wounds
you still linger in my lungs;
sickeningly sweet and leaving me
with bated breath.

anointed with ash-- these embers will
only rekindle the fire that breathes within me--
smoke in each word that exits this
terrible tongue-- i have only said slander against your name--

and this transgression-- it is okay if you never forgive me--
for i know that this is the sin that cannot be cleared.

the moonlight stings
i have grown tired of belonging to someone.
tired of being set on the pedestal,
expected to dust myself off and keep my gears oiled--
you have seen my rust, the rot in my lungs &
i am well aware that i am not as glorious as i used to be.

valiant & vigorous, another me, in another timeline,
forsook love, and all the other plagues of this world--
he grew to be some sort of peacemaker-- sacrificial or
otherwise-- i know that future cannot be ahead of me.

lull me into the false sense of security in that you will never harm--
i will believe you, i will trust that your hands are meant to mend--
needle and thread, the wool pulled over the lamb's eyes
is only dyed once the first drop of wine is spilled.

and the sycophants will all preach that it was in oblation.
[soon, i will submit myself to the stars]
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User avatar
herb
Gender Male
Points 5
Reviews 67
Thu Jul 16, 2026 1:25 am
herb says... · Thu Jul 16, 2026 1:25 am
week 5 - 29 lines


you will love me, even past death
i hope i find it in myself to forgive all the scars
that are left on this vestial corpse. purity made of ash
(these hands are left darkened with soot)
and you know that i am desecrated.

your hands cup my ribs as i mumble from the deathbed--
i am telling you to touch gentler, to love without violence.
we both know you won't. this is all that man can be, you will say.

the blood that burns into my skin is the tether that binds us,
it proves we are carnal. infatuated with sin--
and yet all i may do is submit myself to your lust.
i have no power over those who snap my wings and burn the feathers--

i must accept any offerings-- your hands over my lips,
the blood you smear from my wounds, or the spittle you bestow upon me
as you tarnish my name at the altar--

you are well aware i will submit to benefaction.


kiss my knuckles when i am gone
some days, i wonder if the trees that burnt
fail to exist when not percieved--
the truth is, i am not too sure if anything i have done
was not in performance.

i have been both the saint and the saved,
the burning and burnt, the lamb and the slaughter.
forever in this loop of harm and heal, bandage the wound
then cut a new one open. it is all for the sake of equality.

when these floorboards fall through, this stage will be rendered useless--
so it is okay to demolish me alongside it. i will not cry, i will not scream.
i will only ask how long it will take you to get in the swing of things.

do not preoccupy yourself with boredom--
i will inhale as i dance on my broken bones,
and i will exhale when i am met with glorious death.
[soon, i will submit myself to the stars]
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cron
The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.
— Patrick Star