madrigian (madrigian) wrote in ode_to_failure,

  • Music:
So we make no rules and what happens is that nobody talks.
If there were rules prodding people in the spine with sharktooth-like objects, maybe people would talk.
Myself included.

There's a new member.

You're being watched.

I found a mystery poem in a mystery book.
I wrote this once, I mustve been drunk because I have no recollection of writing it.

I've sung to turned backs unravelled myself to string lines of harsh-veined poetry
They've worn my skin to the opera, I followed in tow, More than naked, fanning them with their own eyelashes
And the meat on my bones I would lay on wet pavement like a noble cloak protecting their lightly touching down feet
A skeleton in the rain
Some have taken, others refused my services.

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    She descends like a prism-shattered star. You know her face-in what she believes were better days it was carved into a million chunks of marble, but…

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    Marta Becket is her own best friend, and her splendid autobiography suggests that's how it should be for anybody who fancies herself an artist,…

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