glowing dawn/north star
04.22.2024
A free-verse poem inspired by Star Trek: The Next Generation and porgthespacepenguin's No Easy Way to the Stars and there was a star danced works.
Ribbons
06.30.2022
I wake, this morning, and I can hear a voice in me
He says: I will no longer fall at the feet of the people who use me, then cast me away.
I will no longer grab at their shirts while my knees begin to bleed
or wail when they pull away from me.
I will no longer tear my own chest into ribbons
and eat the fraying ends when you tell me to.
I will no longer let you tell me to.
I will not let you.
I will not.
I will let you dissolve at my feet instead.
My will shall force you to your knees, so hard they bleed
And I will lap up the blood as it pools around my ankles.
Your chest is ribbons, crimson bows like the saddest giftwrap.
A lonely man who doesn’t know
how best to banish the loneliness.
My mouth fills with blood from where I’ve bitten my cheek
to keep from shouting how much I love you.
I lap up the blood as it pools around my ankles and now
we are entangled as best as I can manage.
Wrap your dissolving arms around my waist and kiss away the scar you left
because neither of us will be leaving with a smile today.
Inspired by NBC Hannibal
He says: I will no longer fall at the feet of the people who use me, then cast me away.
I will no longer grab at their shirts while my knees begin to bleed
or wail when they pull away from me.
I will no longer tear my own chest into ribbons
and eat the fraying ends when you tell me to.
I will no longer let you tell me to.
I will not let you.
I will not.
I will let you dissolve at my feet instead.
My will shall force you to your knees, so hard they bleed
And I will lap up the blood as it pools around my ankles.
Your chest is ribbons, crimson bows like the saddest giftwrap.
A lonely man who doesn’t know
how best to banish the loneliness.
My mouth fills with blood from where I’ve bitten my cheek
to keep from shouting how much I love you.
I lap up the blood as it pools around my ankles and now
we are entangled as best as I can manage.
Wrap your dissolving arms around my waist and kiss away the scar you left
because neither of us will be leaving with a smile today.
Inspired by NBC Hannibal
were my arms
06.18.2022
Were my arms not full of firewood
I think I should have dropped them.
Kindling’s a blessing I’ve come to know
(and the solitude of a fire warming only one body).
Were my arms—
I would hold you, but I know not what it is
to have a life so like the one you wish.
The one I wish.
Were my arms—
I would protect you, with blankets and prayers
and bracers and gold.
and the fire would warm one more.
Were my arms not full of firewood,
(the kind sodden with rain)
I would have, would have, wood
walked. I’d have a different life,
so like the one you wish.
Were my arms not full of firewood,
they would be full of you,
and I would be full of life.
I’m kindling, now, and the fire still warms just one.
Inspired by BBC Merlin
I think I should have dropped them.
Kindling’s a blessing I’ve come to know
(and the solitude of a fire warming only one body).
Were my arms—
I would hold you, but I know not what it is
to have a life so like the one you wish.
The one I wish.
Were my arms—
I would protect you, with blankets and prayers
and bracers and gold.
and the fire would warm one more.
Were my arms not full of firewood,
(the kind sodden with rain)
I would have, would have, wood
walked. I’d have a different life,
so like the one you wish.
Were my arms not full of firewood,
they would be full of you,
and I would be full of life.
I’m kindling, now, and the fire still warms just one.
Inspired by BBC Merlin
Ending
04.04.2022
“so, where are my flowers?” you screamed and you screamed
and i wanted nothing more than to tell you i had them, i had them
but my hands were empty
and empty they have stayed
and your cold fingers grasped at nothing
and nothing, you have stayed.
i have heard voices, a myriad
throughout all of my years
and they whisper to me truths
(that cut as deeply as thrown spears)
they say: this is not the end.
even if you lose your will or lose your blood
the world will knit you back together.
it is not your destiny to die here
oh, Emrys—not now, not ever.
so long as through the veins of this eternal,
all magic doth flow—your connection shall not sever.
and neither will you know
the salt embrace of death itself,
nor the humming blackness when your sleep
turns into naught.
“so, where is my ending?” i scream and i scream
and the world wants nothing more than to keep me in its cage
but my heart is empty
and empty it has stayed
and your cold body waits for nothing
and nothing, we will stay.
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
and i wanted nothing more than to tell you i had them, i had them
but my hands were empty
and empty they have stayed
and your cold fingers grasped at nothing
and nothing, you have stayed.
i have heard voices, a myriad
throughout all of my years
and they whisper to me truths
(that cut as deeply as thrown spears)
they say: this is not the end.
even if you lose your will or lose your blood
the world will knit you back together.
it is not your destiny to die here
oh, Emrys—not now, not ever.
so long as through the veins of this eternal,
all magic doth flow—your connection shall not sever.
and neither will you know
the salt embrace of death itself,
nor the humming blackness when your sleep
turns into naught.
“so, where is my ending?” i scream and i scream
and the world wants nothing more than to keep me in its cage
but my heart is empty
and empty it has stayed
and your cold body waits for nothing
and nothing, we will stay.
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
Don't Worry
03.30.2022
In a moment of weakness (of which you have many) your eyes begin to drip tears.
There’s only leather and metal against your skin and it’s so, so wrong.
His weight begins to weigh you down, it’s more than you can take.
But don’t worry. It’s your destiny.
A memory surfaces and someone else’s voice speaks to you:
“Hold me.” It’s a woman, strong and unbreakable. But she’s shattering.
Her lover falls to pieces beside her, holding her because she said to.
So now: “Just… just hold me.”
You fall to pieces beside him, holding him because he said to.
You cannot carry it all, every single piece of him as it falls away with his fading breaths.
You grasp and claw and you feel like screaming—roaring!
But don’t worry. It’s your destiny.
Empty hands weigh you down on the journey back.
You have nothing: no soul, no life, no love.
No destiny, not anymore.
There is something to be said about defining yourself by someone else.
Something to be said, but you will not say it.
But you worry. Where is your destiny?
Maybe home is best left alone for now?
You think of traveling alone, away, into the mists.
Directionless. Destiny. What a joke.
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
There’s only leather and metal against your skin and it’s so, so wrong.
His weight begins to weigh you down, it’s more than you can take.
But don’t worry. It’s your destiny.
A memory surfaces and someone else’s voice speaks to you:
“Hold me.” It’s a woman, strong and unbreakable. But she’s shattering.
Her lover falls to pieces beside her, holding her because she said to.
So now: “Just… just hold me.”
You fall to pieces beside him, holding him because he said to.
You cannot carry it all, every single piece of him as it falls away with his fading breaths.
You grasp and claw and you feel like screaming—roaring!
But don’t worry. It’s your destiny.
Empty hands weigh you down on the journey back.
You have nothing: no soul, no life, no love.
No destiny, not anymore.
There is something to be said about defining yourself by someone else.
Something to be said, but you will not say it.
But you worry. Where is your destiny?
Maybe home is best left alone for now?
You think of traveling alone, away, into the mists.
Directionless. Destiny. What a joke.
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
Antichrist
03.30.2022
Take this sword and throw it far
The script etched into the fuller says: take me up, cast me away. You run your fingers over the indentations again and again. Excalibur is meant to be transitory. Sometimes you wonder if you, too, are meant for that. To be used as a means to an end. And then—cast away.
Let it shine under the morning star
Freya's hand is always strong and sure when she catches the sword. You trust her with it more than anyone else, even yourself. She will keep it safe for him, when he returns and has use of it once more. He will.
He will.
Who are you? Who am I to you?
The firelight casts his face into stark relief as he stares openly at you. It's so hard to keep from crumbling into the loud wails and sobs that you so want to surrender to. His hand is cold through the leather. His eyes rip you to shreds and retreat behind the shutters he draws closed on his expression. The secret feels so good to finally tell, but it hurts more. It hurts.
I am the antichrist to you
It's not enough. It's never been enough. You will never be enough, not for anyone. It's just loss and loss and loss and every atrocity you commit cannot save anyone and every single time you hear the word 'destiny' a little more of your soul gets stripped away. Something was always bound to break. Something was always bound to snap.
Only: you never guessed it would be your heart.
Lyrics from Antichrist by Kishi Bashi
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
The script etched into the fuller says: take me up, cast me away. You run your fingers over the indentations again and again. Excalibur is meant to be transitory. Sometimes you wonder if you, too, are meant for that. To be used as a means to an end. And then—cast away.
Let it shine under the morning star
Freya's hand is always strong and sure when she catches the sword. You trust her with it more than anyone else, even yourself. She will keep it safe for him, when he returns and has use of it once more. He will.
He will.
Who are you? Who am I to you?
The firelight casts his face into stark relief as he stares openly at you. It's so hard to keep from crumbling into the loud wails and sobs that you so want to surrender to. His hand is cold through the leather. His eyes rip you to shreds and retreat behind the shutters he draws closed on his expression. The secret feels so good to finally tell, but it hurts more. It hurts.
I am the antichrist to you
It's not enough. It's never been enough. You will never be enough, not for anyone. It's just loss and loss and loss and every atrocity you commit cannot save anyone and every single time you hear the word 'destiny' a little more of your soul gets stripped away. Something was always bound to break. Something was always bound to snap.
Only: you never guessed it would be your heart.
Lyrics from Antichrist by Kishi Bashi
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
Carry It
03.30.2022
"What are you doing?" The scene before you is familiar, but not in a way that you can articulate. Everything seems set up, like a stage for a play. This play is a tragedy. There is a man by a lakeside with a body in his arms.
"What are you doing?" You call out again. The man turns, his face a warped mirror of anguish. His arms tremble with the weight of a man, his mail, and his destiny.
"You're holding a corpse." This time your voice carries, even though it is but a whisper. You can see the very second that your words reach him. His eyes go wide, stunned. He looks down—
It is a corpse. Long-dead, flesh hanging off the bone. There's barely a whisper of the golden hair which used to circle his head. The man by the lakeside screams and drops the body. Armor clanks, mail makes that special slithery noise when the links slide against one another. Terror colors the face of the man by the lakeside.
"It's a corpse." You wake not a moment later. In the beats between your breaths, when the dream fades away, you recognize the man as yourself. Oh, you are a tragedy. You continue to carry a corpse.
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
"What are you doing?" You call out again. The man turns, his face a warped mirror of anguish. His arms tremble with the weight of a man, his mail, and his destiny.
"You're holding a corpse." This time your voice carries, even though it is but a whisper. You can see the very second that your words reach him. His eyes go wide, stunned. He looks down—
It is a corpse. Long-dead, flesh hanging off the bone. There's barely a whisper of the golden hair which used to circle his head. The man by the lakeside screams and drops the body. Armor clanks, mail makes that special slithery noise when the links slide against one another. Terror colors the face of the man by the lakeside.
"It's a corpse." You wake not a moment later. In the beats between your breaths, when the dream fades away, you recognize the man as yourself. Oh, you are a tragedy. You continue to carry a corpse.
Inspired by BBC Merlin | also on AO3
Deathless Stare
03.18.2022
If I should die
I hope it is only with you.
Your eyes alone should alight upon my form
expiring in the light of the early morning.
These moments within—I am fragile.
I am drawn in brushstrokes of weakness
and heavy vulnerability.
I am made of paper and petals
when I meet my end.
And you are at the end.
The tunnel’s filled with light and
your silhouette is stark against the rays.
Take my paper and petals,
my brushstrokes of ink and watercolor,
my heavy and my fragile,
and the lightness in my chest
as breath leaves me for the last time.
If I should die, I will with love.
I will love and I will show the world.
The skies will know the reach of my heart.
The earth will know the weight of my touch.
The sun will know the vastness of my tears.
And you will know it all, and more.
My heart, my touch, my tears will bleed
into the carved-out flesh of the sky’s woven brush—
of the overhead’s mighty watercolor spread.
You’ll take me, and you will paint the universe with my colors,
Using brushstrokes that leave pressed petals in their wake.
If I should die,
I hope it is only with you.
My life, my love, my deathless stare is—
for you
for you
for you.
Inspired by BBC Merlin
I hope it is only with you.
Your eyes alone should alight upon my form
expiring in the light of the early morning.
These moments within—I am fragile.
I am drawn in brushstrokes of weakness
and heavy vulnerability.
I am made of paper and petals
when I meet my end.
And you are at the end.
The tunnel’s filled with light and
your silhouette is stark against the rays.
Take my paper and petals,
my brushstrokes of ink and watercolor,
my heavy and my fragile,
and the lightness in my chest
as breath leaves me for the last time.
If I should die, I will with love.
I will love and I will show the world.
The skies will know the reach of my heart.
The earth will know the weight of my touch.
The sun will know the vastness of my tears.
And you will know it all, and more.
My heart, my touch, my tears will bleed
into the carved-out flesh of the sky’s woven brush—
of the overhead’s mighty watercolor spread.
You’ll take me, and you will paint the universe with my colors,
Using brushstrokes that leave pressed petals in their wake.
If I should die,
I hope it is only with you.
My life, my love, my deathless stare is—
for you
for you
for you.
Inspired by BBC Merlin
in flames
02.13.2022
His body, burned
The blood that rushes in my veins—
His body, burned
From then, ‘till now, I have been spurned
by all the world. That which remains
is kept for him, wrapped in warm rains.
His body, burned
I long to see what he obtains!
My knight in stars, he’s locked in chains
which love: it can’t have overturned.
His body, burned
I see him in dreams and refrains…
His body, burned.
Inspired by BBC Merlin
The blood that rushes in my veins—
His body, burned
From then, ‘till now, I have been spurned
by all the world. That which remains
is kept for him, wrapped in warm rains.
His body, burned
I long to see what he obtains!
My knight in stars, he’s locked in chains
which love: it can’t have overturned.
His body, burned
I see him in dreams and refrains…
His body, burned.
Inspired by BBC Merlin