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Paralytic atrophy made karmic by the blood


Encephalitic kisses enraged by rabid spit


With the neurological temperance of the devil


I am built to stumble through my entire syntax


Holding snakes up to heaven in the baptist flood


If they sink their fangs, I am proven, I am real


What's love to me, in the wake of carcinogenic smoke?


I could keep chasing your scent, but I'm chemically derailed


Replace that space in my heart, that I left for you


With vector-borne illness and a drunkard's hue


You were a refractory disease made worse


By the same disseminated love you placed on my lips


Necrosis by proxy, virulence measured in eye-shadow smudges


Acute outbursts of colors, references to red


Pandemic coughs of ethyl alcohol, tonic, and war


A systemic infection buried amongst the benzocaine


You are the exotoxin that sang so beautifully


That I could not resist the siren, or the songs she will sing


My mouth is a dying throne, my teeth are usurped kings


I want to bow to you in the hospital ward


Fever dreams of your back, your freckles, your wings


Wolf spider, spin your web around my heart


Hold me until the venom sets in, never let us part

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Um. I guess this speaks for itself, and JohnnyClyde's awesome story outline. 

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Replacement memories to sew the tapestry together


And bitters in the tonic to make them blend like ink


The ten-gallon drum of anger I've been spiking with light


Is much too dark to purify, it's too deep to even drink


Backtracking across plains to find where the tracks break


Adding colors to what I remember until I vomit in the sink


What a grand finale I've devised inside my guts


It's all the problems with halcyon, my regrets when I blink


Faster and faster spins the carousel, the horses


Forever posed to run from nothing but each other


Polar glaciers of glass in the arches of my feet


So my path can be remembered by my absent lover


Drawing the oiled comb through unwashed hair


With just enough of my scorched skin to cover


All the cracks in the plaster I call my body


Every author is a liar, every artist is a thief


We believe we are rediscovering these frontiers


When we're just bombing atolls, destroying reef 


I regret everything I've ever written


That had to do with love or loss or misery


I regret meeting every apostle, saint, and martyr


Because hymnals are at the heart of all your injury


The problems with halcyon, the colors I keep creating


Is the exorcism that follows when I stop breathing


For a single moment, to remember all your flaws


Are more beautiful than anything worth believing


Could come and collect me and hide me away


But ugly men fear the sun, and I fear what you could say


The problem with halcyon, and color, is there's nothing left say


 

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Standing on a chair.


How the world would snap our spines if only we'd stop pushing back. In varying degress of entropy, I lay naked on hardwood planks. The helix of my muscles contracting until the bones turn to dust beneath. I'm just waiting for your garotte to take me home. A single note missing from the piano so that the melody is never complete. You're free to have men much better than me. But don't forget me, should I leave. Build a shrine, burn a candle, anything to remember, anything to keep. Put my voice to tape without my knowing, and play my words back when you're alone. To remind yourself there's a man out there, alive, who'd made the world your throne.


Drip the wax over my skeleton, and pose me like a shadow. Keep me alive forever, smiling at the gallows. How many wax sculptures are there, ones you've hidden away? Shut up in a dark room never to see the light of day. We're brothers in our own way, but wolves in theirs too. Toothless and old, dreaming of Mikado yellow, choking on Cerulean blue. I've worn the grit off my paws, the enamel from my nails, just trying to claw my way up to you. Maybe I just kept digging, to prove it an adequate grave. Maybe I mistook your kiss for errant magnetic waves. 


Keep your chin up, dead man, you've only come so far. To breathe and be a statue that was soft enough to scar. Only human, only human, is what they keep saying. You've made me a sullen sculpture with his wax heart decaying. Portable radios will get you to the coast. Songs of sadder souls will cause your bloom and boast. And you'll start anew on the other side of the sea, with candles and torches and men that are not me. 


The chair falls down. 

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Rotating plates and blackbody rays


Every breath I take is an accident these days


While I ingest radiation from the sun


That blackens my lungs, it deadens and numbs


Are you the machine they built to save me


That was calibrated to lock its knees? 


Are you the wattage in the light bulb


That burns out so that I may see?


I thought I'd need you to find my footing


Or to bandage my wounds when I am lost


But you lose yourself much faster


Cuts and bruises welling up


Turning dials on the switchboard to heaven


Placing calls to apartments in hell


Foxtrotting with demons and serpents


Drinking venom from natural wells


Have I put too much of myself forward


To ever rebuild and be made whole?


Or is this doom in nine circles


Pivoting your shoes and their burnt soles?


Turn the dials all the way up


Burn me alive in brilliant light


But don't expect me to waver


I'll never be too weak to fight


Pitch black gums, switchblade tongues


You are my ultraviolet night.


 

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I've been dreaming lately


That I'm stuck inside a glass box


Under the constellations of Grand Central 


With some kind of illness on my tongue


And the people passing by are laughing


As my fingernails tear loose from their beds


And my teeth come tumbling out, like bricks from my head


The world is watching me come to pieces 


And all they want to do is laugh, laugh, laugh


"There's the dead boy now! Watch closely, my son!"


But I'm waking up before the crowd can get my name


I never want to sleep, because I miss so much of you


Your absence, my disease, is killing off the view


Of a city that held so much of my potential


Before squandering it off like a peddler 


Numbering my numerous deaths as sequential


I'm done wishing on things that only fucking run


Numbers, stars, and love, goodnight all, I'm done

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I'm being picked up


By the reverse side


Of drunken gravity


And smashed back down


When her arms give out


Losing teeth on the concrete


Like piano keys spilling out


Of an old black bag


Where we used to carry our hearts


I always keep my shoes on


Just in case


We have to run from this


And head straight for the grave


Made a coffin for a bed


Buried myself inside my head


And if you hear the bell


Don't try to dig me up


This is a lesson learned by lovers


From the sugar spit spat by time


That we're nothing but mangled bodies


Who continually fail to align


But we try to keep straight


With whiskey and waxflower breath


But we're walking in circles


Because we favor one foot


Like property lines we've crossed


Rivers we can't afford to drink


We're wilting like gardens


We're ships that god can't even sink


Hallelujah, I'm born again


In the black heart of the tulips


I never bought you in the end


Bring me to the end 

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We're in a perpetual confusion of tongues


Tripping over phrases until we're raw in the lungs


Can you imagine how many times I'd be hanged


If you could understand the words I've been saying?


We've condemned honesty to make room for lidocaine


Our hearts have been removed to make clouds for more rain


 


I'm scattered abroad upon the face of all the earth


With a half-life of never since I survived birth


No gutters to follow away from all the lights


Where I can tap morse code into the mains and the pipes


I'm saying, "We've been lied to, I love you. I need you now."


But I don't scream for long enough for the code to be loud


 


Let's build a tower and call it the end


Separate at the bridge where the train tracks bend


You're living in the reflections of the glass


I'm dreaming aloud while lying on my back


I've been looking for a reason to smash every mirror


A Cassandra complex for a girl who's never near


 


You can't change the future, you've already trapped the past


If we're taking turns speaking in tongues, let me go last


You'll never hear a damn word I say, you'll never listen


Because you're surrounded by your demons


And I'm burning alive, just beyond your vision


 

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Cosmic radiation through dime-store drinking straws


Blisters on my heels that refuse to heal


A black hole aftermath when the room depressurized


All our novels falling from poorly supported shelves


Onto floors I've claimed as my own


There is no comfort for a perpetually broken boy


Like me


 


My broken back, your useless literature


Your discarded gifts, my dead flowers


My sandstone knuckles, your lilac candles


We're a god damn mess, and we're only getting worse


 


I used to live where the coyotes could get to me


And deer stopped to bow at the sight of my hands


Pulled by my hair through the muck and the mud


Until I ran towards the rising sun, towards you


I've fashioned a crown from the stems of white roses


And the pedals are all turned to rot 


What kind of king I am, sleeping on the floor


When you left the door open, it scared me like war


 


A mouth in the wall that's lost all but one tooth


You could turn the deadbolt, but you never do


And I constantly wonder, how much electricity I must build up


To lay down with you once, and levitate you out of your head


How much electrostatic glow I'd have to project


To keep you safe in bed


 


 

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There is no way to win through


The glass into the light beyond


Where the electricity runs with the hum of a song


That no one has sang since before we were born


While moths crawl the length of my arms


And leave prints of their wings in dust


Up and down the place on my neck


That I never want you to touch again


I wish there'd been some kind of chemical on your lips


That could have scarred me, branded my collarbones


A scarlet letter to wear for my shame


Not shame of you, but shame of me


For letting how my heart felt dictate what I believed


A tyrant inside a ribcage, just waiting to ravage the body outside


And I know that I'd destroy you if given half the chance


My hands were not meant to save anything


Not you, not anyone else


They're better off at my sides, being eaten alive by moths


An exhibit of failed intent for the crowd to laugh at


They'd call me a monster, a beast with one back


A spine that doesn't bend enough to retract


So it's become a cross with no god to make it a metaphor


I'm a shitty church that no one prays in anymore


If you fell now, you'd fall for a leper


And when you dragged me anywhere, I'd keep dropping pieces


Until there was nothing left but a trail of me 


For you to follow all the way back home


So what am I meant to love if not you?


An attic with no roof, a gathering of moths around my little light?


They've no feelings for me to hurt, hearts too simple for me to break


Just let me lead myself down into the cellar with no floor


And fall into the abyss, where Virgil waits whistling 


Even if sometimes you lay awake at night


And think that maybe all this drivel is just what you needed


To keep the wolves from the door


But it's not, it's just the blood soaking the lawn


Let the moths come, let them gnaw at my nail beds


If it meant I couldn't ruin your life any more


Than the ones who came before


And left the window open 


When they vanished

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Theserpentthecharmer-1586443

As always, download for Hi-Res.


Bored at work and have always wondered what a visual representation of this would look like, so...


A not so informative, and oddly confusing infographic of the 2014 Resident Curators.


Please feel free to message me if I messed something up.


Enjoy!


 


P.S. If this seems rough, it's because I never intended to release it, actually. But it turned out okay enough that I said "Ah. Fuck it."


P.P.S I was informed that I accidentally spelled MarieIv's name with an L instead of an I. That's my bad. 

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Film: Red Wires


Released: December, 1988


The sophomore effort of Canadian-born director Tomas Ellis-Warsburg, Red Wires was released in select theaters throughout Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and British Columbia. The screenplay, written by Kentucky playwright Thistle Wickens, was originally intended for off-broadway theatrical release, but was never recognized as a particularly "stage-worthy" piece. Red Wires is the tale of Tommy, a young boy, and his twin sister Hilda, who search the five boroughs of New York looking for their father, who mysteriously disappears after developing a cure for Bowen's Disease (A rare skin disorder). The journey is only decided upon after Tommy and Hilda discover a secret room in their father's apartment which houses evidence of a conspiracy to thwart his medical efforts.


Although claimed by some critics to be "Lackluster" and "An egotistical, pedantic romp through New York City", the film generally received positive reviews. The most confusing, and somewhat genius, aspect of this film is that it was written by an American, filmed in New York City, but only released to Canadian audiences in select theaters across Canada. The true glory of Red Wires is seen in the outstanding performance by Japanese actress Aiko Ishiguro (Ellis-Warsburg's adopted sister) who plays the ironically named "Aiko", a geisha with (the aforementioned) Bowen's Disease. 


Dense, sometimes confusing, and intentionally dry, Red Wires wins through with its unflinching attention to realism, its showcase of breakout performances, and its several cleverly encoded references to Homer's The Odyssey. Red Wires is a stand-up film that is normally forgotten when discussing Canadian cinema, but it will never truly disappear from the selection of Ellis-Warsburg's greatest works. 

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If I stopped to turn my head, I'd see a road full of crooked crosses.


Knocked down by the wind, the weather.


And I wonder if this is what everyone has been seeing.


This amalgamation of faith lost by something not of man.


We are set to conquer the world seven times over.


And yet we're afraid to tell one another how heavy are our hearts.


I could take all of my fury and bring this city to the ground.


But I couldn't take your hand for more than a moment without shaking.


And I could die knowing that you were here and alive, and die happy.


Our parents are meant to leave us at some point.


We're born to be abandoned, but not before we learn to love.


So we can repeat the cycle, and tell our children how it was. 


Before storms gathered up and ripped at our skin.


Before someone left you alone with your bed and your limbs.


It's how I fear I'll become, if you ever let me try.


I fear that I'm imagining that I'd give you the entirety of the sky.


Maybe I'm weaker than I once thought possible.


And you'd be left once again to fend for yourself.


In the space where ghosts roam restless and alone.


The silhouettes of every man who'd loved you and gone home.


Without the slightest thought that it would break you.


Turn your heart to stained glass.


Pieces that will no longer fit together, but refuse to mend and pass.


I am the giant that wanders in the ocean.


I am the ladders down to hell.


Climb the knives up my spine, meet the bats and the ring the bell.


There's only the words that I've written here to guide me.


There's only the crowd of moments I'll hold in my heart.


You're in them all, you're the centerpiece, you're my art.


And I'll kill anyone who ever hurts you.


Destroy every cross that forces you to carry it.


I'll make a bonfire of them all.


And we'll dance like savages until the cold and the fall.


When we'll go inside and rest and give in.


And those silhouettes, those ghosts, will be gone.


We'll have cast them away, we'll dream before dawn. 

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