Tag Archives: antinatalism

Sleepy Android Face

She had a sleepy android face,

forlorn of a world more fists

that spirits, more blade than halo.

Her long dark hair was straight,

and the barest protection from

the rain and the gun.

A leather jacket that been through

the war, stiff and dry and hard,

kept her metal and lightning heart

pounding in her thin but strong chest.

The jeans and boots would keep her name

secret from the demons crawling in her skin.

The rain was the empty words of God,

promise cleanliness, but just making you cold.

The demons came in through the eye, even,

especially, for the pious. All youth and tender innocence

to be sucked dry and picked clean, the demons

arming the men goodly for the job.

Her sleepy android face was still, and sad,

and tears of saltwater or maybe glycerin came,

and a warm place was hollowed out in Athena’s shoulder,

that brass statue up in The Fort, were ruin looks on the river.

That warm place, big enough for one, would shelter her.

For demons are in flesh, and the making of flesh for newborns.

Don’t touch, and The Demons can’t get you.

The Little Death of Icarus

To All Wishes Spent

Mermaids know freedom, deep in dreaming waters.

Know a secret star, a childlike god, for their children.

In the sea that fills the stars with desire and lust,

and a touch of grace in the things so distant

A song that sweetens the desire to leave for the sky

and wash away the face we are bound to in a home harbor.

Out of the corner of our hearts they slip into dark depths

and cannot be touched or captured or brought to the sun.

Without form, without birth, without the bones tied to death,

hearts full of wine and silver threads counting down to dawn.

I can see her swimming somewhere past the bow, as stars weep,

and a memory goes from bleeding to only shedding gold on my palm.

Mermaids know freedom, and I know loss and shame and regret,

chasing after those mermaids, to the end of my days, to all wishes spent.