I wrote you a song. You didn’t understand it for all of the screaming, yet that was the metaphor.
March 2018
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Read more: untitled post 188
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Read more: untitled post 189
and i fall asleep
between the floorboards of your heart
wondering where we strayed from worlds apart
like your hands around my thighs
screaming in winds of pain
between oceans and seas
of our love we ice on cakes in mars
in form or dare and truth
hidden views in tide pools
i said i’d always love you
yet how do you see
without a view -
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lingering on your lips
to feel you again
like fine wine and peace of mind
with you in twine
and i feel to grasp
your might against mine
pulling forth for a guiding light
like wrong nights
men who quite
feel of air
like the cold i feel
without you here
and i’m running on empty
squeezing lemons to create you
the sour of our past
to relish in what was
you and i
handsome nights
in summer
where screens played
filters listened
eyes rolled in tune
with motions i made
requests on candles of lavendar
and i still smell you there
here
in air at night
in dreary moons
in bliss
in past happinessstay in a place longer than necessary, typically because of a reluctance to leave.
words by dominic riccitello -
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it’s cold
from the tar
of his heart
yet i still breathe
as this falls apart -
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i slip on my tongue
on a lie i’ve told
myself a thousand times
to be with or without
abuse and cereal
tense motions
hundreds of emotions
skipping on black and blue
bruises of darkness
like hips against bones
broken in tune with words against my ribs
anxious moments tucked between
bricks stacked on glass houses
waiting for cracks from windows
of souls breathing in
and we’re dying in secrecy to feel ourselves
in tune with conversations over dinner
moans in screams at night
where tension is peaking
chandeliers shake from dining rooms
in friction with where were going
two upon one
throwing knives against walls
where blood was thrown
in torture against sins
like alcohol and spins
blacking to mixture of drugs
and words you said
like love and rum
mixing my drink with
ice you spew in broken down tongues
i paddle for seas
oceans in tides
pulling us back but forth
at the same time
we didn’t make sense
but sense doesn’t have to be -
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you die because
it makes sense to us
to be in depth with ones
uncertainty of the aftermath
and i’m feeling in tune with you
like solid hues of breaks in beings
and death between sheets where i once
laid eyes on the back of your neck
with dire honesty
broken by men in time before clocks
made sense to me
and i dance with the tune
of you and i
in depth with our grasp
at a dance with each others hands
like thighs and men
in bare with sense of where this was
but before it could be
like your might in mine and we’re breaking by time
to become more than what we’re told to be
just two in hands in a quiet tense
feeling our emotion of two men in twine
together before people told us
of how you dance with women
and we die not for death
but we die to feel emotion we once had
for each other like leather
like skin against one another
and i speak to speak
to converse about what our moments meant to each other
like hands on ice in a coldness where warm corrupts your heart
and we’re pacing on aches
on emotions which abruptly feel like we’re dying inside
that’s how this felt
and thats how you felt
where we were dying to be
at ones grasp and we
never felt this again
like the madmen in me
thought this would be
forever and after
near or never
but together forever -
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I still remember your hands on my thighs, the breeze in my ear, and the sullen sadness in the depth of your voice.