That last one was requested by my exhousemate, who I love. Pig is giving me Mermaids, which I am attempting. Also Maisi is my exlecturer's cat, who is currently very ill.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
12. Mermaids (for Pigeon) It wasn't a promise, it was just a song, not for anyone in this particular ocean Neither did she instigate the long calm of waves which ceased vehicular motion. Thirst and loneliness could not be engineered by the ever drinking maid of many schools. Her lithesome figure, as it so appeared, merely functioned to evolutionary rules. Crabs are picking through his bloody locks He's pale now, a growing shade of green his limb contorted, broken on the rocks and yet, his expression-so serene. They say the mermaid lured him to his death, he was the fool who thought he could draw breath.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
13. Jamiton Jamiton, oh furry little warlord well versed in land grabs and chemical warfare. His territory expands ever forward taken with claw, farting, vomit or hair. With a snort, his breathing starts to rattle, but in his head, he is immense, aloof, finishing off his most glorious battle his vanquished foes lie panting on the roof. He yawns displaying his remaining teeth attempts to find some lingering shred of tuna Scratches at a twitching scar beneath and wills the next feeding time sooner. The human's scold, he casually ignores, he has forgotten how to retract his claws.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
14. Your heart, an orchid: with the tender accord of new shoots tasting sun but arched to shiver, the fragility that great loves afford And yet, my love, no bitter frost can wither you, they only serve to jewel your hand anew. You subsist on light and air, embracing love without hostile command, you burn my cheeks to blush with your stare. I would condemn the shit from which you grew what you've endured, patience personified, and yet, you love, despite all you've been through, and so, my darling, for you I have tried. To say adversity made you fair's a lie your beauty transcends, it does not defy.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
Six inches to the year, so waist to shoulder was Don, 2001, rent overdue. Brute to all her friends, they never told her. Jed, shoulder to neck, 2002. Silent treatment when she washed his shirts. Went through her phone, removed each male name. 2003. Michael. It still hurts. She finds it catches on her nail's quick, buttons, earings, zippers tend to bite the broken ends they left, the bitter sick which takes hold of her chest late at night. She gasps, the scissors fill her with despair until she finds her lungs are full of air.
(No idea what you meant, so stabbed.)
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
16. PenguinAttack Your poetry is so full of spices the heat that sets aflame your every cell organic: you don't notice the poetic devices even while you are consumed by their spell sylvan, silky, strange, the cessation of will to wish to want to woo, to whisper what we savagely conceal, exposing still hidden tangles, the beauty of their knot. You've called yourself a coward, taking cover in a life half lived. Fallacy. You are the valient soldier, genius, lover, None of us have the guts to be. I await the day the planet falls so deep as I in your immortal thralls.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
17. I am yours because of the autumn frost. That is not to say I could have done without you, I'd be lost. Without the frost I would have been hard won. Or with heaters, waterbottle, fire. It was your warmth to melt my iron will your sweetness, wit, your estrangement with ire reasons why I love you still. Three short years, it is just as sharp when you catch hold my hand, the pressing need Cold to warmth, as perfect as my harp, against my skin, just so you supersede all things. My love is fresh and bright as snow. (I am still crazy about you, you know)
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
18. Obligatory self aware sonnet alluding to its own construction Anachronistic Aphaeresis 'pon it. Forced rhyme by misapproximation. Anaphora! Hyperbole Afflatus! Anaphora! Mild Amphigouri! Anaphora! Mangled Antibacchius! Anaphora! Style over story! Dyphemism of impotent rage. Spontaneous Stichomythia with muse. Hamartia: poet did not gauge how difficult the structure is to use. Aposiopesis-- laboured aliteration End. Obnoxious self-congratulation.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
19. Somewhere in a field are all the names left behind, buried in jars with rings, watches, silver picture frames, the memory of a little girl who sings at night for fear of dark, now lost, escaped. Another country, another soil dug roots transplated intact, windows draped, she stays outside to not dirty the rug. As she falls, she realises she's alone Condition predetermined by a gene. the cat and roses, hungry for blood and bone Desecrate with life the morbid scene. Her stately roses shiver, swiftly drinking wondering what could the mulch be thinking.
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
20. I remember when I heard the news softly, soft O footstep of my grief a coiling cat around my legs, you choose to be silent or underfoot. The brief electric pang is followed by the numb and then I overanalyse why and how and what I should feel, if tears will come, why didn't I deserve to die and had I really any right to mourn and what did I even know about you from what you'd said, your scent, the clothes you'd worn. My friend hugs me, and then I fall apart Oh thank Christ, I actually have a heart
Princess of Parataxis, Mistress of Manichean McGuffins
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