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mid night mass moonlight ass in the open eyes celestial sea above Earth body buries radiant roots divine death death a wake
-ash(ley) Michelle c.
Sep 22, 2024
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⭐there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane
and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean?
where the salt envelops every single one of us,
accepting us as kin
letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges
and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses
which tell me that it’s okay to pretend
and okay to tell the ocean all of myself
the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand
as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer
and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral?
i don’t think they do.
but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh
as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples
and wordlessly, tells me to look
and i do.
until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds
and it's just the three of us.
the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,
letting me see them in their love.
personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it
and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand.
everything around me falls,
like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum.
and then, we were wordless
like the ocean had never spoken in the first place.
i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day, to be hugged once more and never again. not because i am tired of being alive, but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live. uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin and better than any gateway into a better life or a better existence, transcending normality and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket, decrepit and dry. i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers, into flames, into an inferno. Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day, to be hugged once more and never again. not because i am tired of being alive, but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live. uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin and better than any gateway into a better life or a better existence, transcending normality and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket, decrepit and dry. i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers, into flames, into an inferno. Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
May 2, 2025
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🌳I am rotting.
I am haunted by an echoing pulse of once verdant requiems,
morbidly veiling my vision with whispering fungal blooms.
They chatter and chit,
until withering into skeletal thorns that sink beneath my skin and burrow into my cadaverous tissue.
I am overgrown with lingering epitaphs,
as if they were carved into me,
the memory of those I loved secluded in my vessel of a body,
nestled between my tendons and sinew,
Nervebound.
There is a rift between the seraphic nature of the dead and beloved,
and the morbid and discordant kiss of death that blesses me even in life.
Though I yearn in my anguished turmoil to either blossom or wilt for a final time,
the will for my fractured heart to return it's abyssal pieces from the void
is a pointless, forsaken task.
For all my decomposing pieces have been exiled into the earth,
distant and estranged from the Sun.
I will soon be bound by roots,
and I only hope my sap will be bountiful.
A solitary tree, hollowed by silence and a chambered wildfire.
My bark shall ossify into marrow and cartilage,
and a volatile mix of dendral viscera,
wood and resin and pine.
I am fated to decay,
until I embrace the sky,
resurging into a cathartic rebirth.
My crimson liquor within my veins will become liquid amber,
feeding you with sweetness and the phantom flavor of my flesh.
Jun 28, 2025
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😃I’ll let one of her poems say it best:
“Leonard Avenue
Two floors down I loll in warm cinnamon-scented water. Box piled on box on box, up under the eaves you float in turgid bloodwarm sleep. Bundled in my robe I climb bearing coffee steaming incense on the chill stairway air. We’ll drink it dabbling in bed on the shore between waking and sleep where you enter my wetness and I take in your warmth.”
Excerpt From Moon Is Always Female Marge Piercy
Two floors down I loll in warm cinnamon-scented water. Box piled on box on box, up under the eaves you float in turgid bloodwarm sleep. Bundled in my robe I climb bearing coffee steaming incense on the chill stairway air. We’ll drink it dabbling in bed on the shore between waking and sleep where you enter my wetness and I take in your warmth.”
Excerpt From Moon Is Always Female Marge Piercy
May 29, 2025
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let those sexy thoughts and cute phrases flow free of worry or embarrassment.
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🛏Like get in bed and run your legs in place and smile and smell, feel, love it all. Fresh and crisp, yum.