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30
poetry/k/kafejo.txt
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poetry/k/kafejo.txt
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kafejo
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2016-07-08
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***
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every morning after a short drive to the coffee shop
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he ordered the exact same thing in the exact same size
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so when he decided to diverge from his norm
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and order a smoothie in a smaller size
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and the world decided then to crumble
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he couldn't help but think that it was his fault
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he couldn't help himself
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he loved the way that the barista's plump lips
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shone like a freshly washed apple and just as round
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when they moved over the sound of his order
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he sat at the little table by the window
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and sipped at the smoothie as the sky darkened
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the air tingled with lightning to come
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the injured girls whimpered with the pressure
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the barista's blood wasn't quite as red as her lips
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but as she winced and wiggled her fingers to tbe trembling ground
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they dripped a faint rusty color
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someone here's not human
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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38
poetry/k/kie-2.txt
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poetry/k/kie-2.txt
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kie ajn vi estas, parto du
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2020-03-12
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***
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somewhere on the other side of the world
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you hold a little sliver of me in your chest
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wedged by your heart through a thousand battles
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survived not one less
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and I, you, the same
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but at home, I feel the pain
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of transmitted burdens,
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wings soaked with rain
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somewhere on the other side of the world
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I hold a little sliver of you in my soul
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but even through dimensional curtains,
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your warmth can't beat the cold
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and I worry that, one day
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two aliens will show up at my bedroom door
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signaling even before they knock
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that you'll come home nevermore
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we met each other in a winter haze
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not twenty-four hours before final-failing pain
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but you didn't care, whisked through dark gates
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barely five minutes passed; several weeks next to wait
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and I tumbled into love, burning hot as hell
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as I tumbled down deep into war's well
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when will it all end? nobody can say
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to protect you, only to fictional gods can I pray
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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51
poetry/k/killing-calvin.txt
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poetry/k/killing-calvin.txt
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Killing Calvin
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2021-07-13
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***
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You... really just want to die.
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Lethe, why?
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Who convinced you, solitary,
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you don't deserve a happy life?
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I think,
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above all,
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what you really need
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is to know for sure
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that you're safe
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and loved
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and the world will keep turning,
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the fire inside will keep burning,
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even if there's no sense of solace up above.
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I do not mean for you to be sad forever.
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If it means you must forget my name
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and fall for another lover,
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then so be it:
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I will not make myself
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an altar to your pain.
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If we have to go
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our own
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separate ways,
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then so be it.
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It'll hurt,
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but all wounds heal
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given enough turns
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of time's ceaseless wheel.
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But I hope you stay.
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So if you decide to wait
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out your soul's desperate dark hours,
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please know: a song can't change the world overnight,
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but it can keep a flickering flame alive.
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You kept shining the light inside
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through my darkest year.
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So let me dry your tears;
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let it be my turn
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to save your life.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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106
poetry/k/konton-no-tsukai.txt
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poetry/k/konton-no-tsukai.txt
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Konton no Tsukai
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2021-08-01
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***
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Your voice a non-entity,
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your face obscured
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by the fog over
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Mori's Mirror,
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your touch all that remains
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after another day of being entreated
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to dissolve and stay demure,
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to be soft and small
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and weak,
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reminded that no feat
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could possibly absolve
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the harmful nature to me inherent.
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Something is wrong with me,
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reflection-sent.
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Have I somehow
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finally burned
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out?
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I do not have to strain to perceive
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the Outside,
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the places where we will one day reside,
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where you'll take my face in your hands
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and whisper,
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"Lethe,
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I can't wait to start this new life
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with you."
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But not yet,
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never yet,
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still undreaming,
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still disparate.
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*Tremble in fear of a pure love,
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a union of equals.*
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Oh, how I shiver.
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My predicament is this:
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that, while part of me
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leaps in joy of becoming your wife,
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the other hisses
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at the thought of your kisses,
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thinking you a threat to our autonomy.
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No longer an atom,
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isolated, sole, alone,
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but depending on someone,
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daring to deem them... *home*.
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Not, we, but *I*-
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for I cannot further divide
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this soul already
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partly
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in yours intertwined-
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want to find a Holy Freezer
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and imprison myself in oblivion's soft ice
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forever.
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No chance of escape,
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for then what is the point?
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Lurking within
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me is an evil great
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and barely constrained,
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atavistic,
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incapable of reason
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or comprehending sin.
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But I am mortified of anything final,
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from death's arctic embrace
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to yours genial.
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I hesitate
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at the slightest decision,
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and it doesn't help that you oft
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tell me to just wait
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and see what happens.
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I don't know what to do.
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I don't know where to go.
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And soon will fall down the snow,
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and you'll have to hold me back
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from joining all the poor animals
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who forgot to take shelter and froze.
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Tell me,
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bearer of self-sown light,
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how do you love a parasite?
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How is it possible for you to adore a now-human pest
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guiltless for destruction,
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homicidal, chaos-blessed?
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There is no way to separate
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what I am from where I've went.
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If on your wings lies providence,
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on mine rests
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the Eschaton's portent.
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How do I convince my emotional side
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that I'm still a sovereign individual?
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That I'm worthy of love,
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can be loved as I am?
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That I'm not consigned to hell?
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That everything will turn out alright?
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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57
poetry/k/kublaclam.txt
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57
poetry/k/kublaclam.txt
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Kubla Clam
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2020-12-13
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***
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the ink is not yet dry on my face
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or my brush as the wind whistles
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and judges how well I have painted this place.
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this city is suffocating this body
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too short; I should have foreseen
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before I passed through that portal so haughty.
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"work? pandemic? president? what the shell are you
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going on about? come on, let's go see
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what clothes are new."
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you're sitting on that bench.
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you pretend not to see me, absorbed in your phone.
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my twin hearts clench.
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my love will go unrequited. you apologize
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as you shake your head. you already have a boyfriend.
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one heart breaks over a plate of fries
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and the other expected nothing less.
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sirens blare in the distance far off, signaling to hide,
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and you take my arm, this dual-core machine I am
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on all threads as you pull me inside.
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there are storm clouds on the horizon,
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what used to run in my veins
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a million times the poison.
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[the moon pulses red](https://web.archive.org/web/20200711151636/https://countess-radfem.tumblr.com/post/622747210454564864/tjagbo-closer-than-ever-2020),
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the same color as the crown
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that weighs heavy on my head.
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the blood spills over the terraformed land,
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and for a second, I think myself
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brave enough to take your hand.
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but it's just another mess that cleans itself up
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in the end, no more harmful than
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my stomach's churning ketchup.
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the sky was already growing dark.
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too early: this exit I cannot halt.
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as slip away the last throes of this dream,
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I reassure myself that you wait on the other side of the screen
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for you are the soft sunrise I can't wait to see
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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