1. Chrysalis

    I’d like to think my lips are caterpillars
    And the skin that peels off
    Is made from the most painful silk-
    Stained red from the sweat of its shedding.

    I think I will be a moth when I grow old
    And my wings will be wrinkly and sunken-
    One day I’ll be flaking the dust off my visage
    And in a gust of wind, my face itself will blow away.

    I wonder what it will feel like
    To grate the calluses off my bones
    And grind into the earth
    In a final attempt to give myself away to something.

    I wonder if it hurts
    And I hope, in a way
    That it is agony-

    I wonder if I’ll feel myself decay.

  2. Morsel

    The earth is having me
    For dinner tonight.
    Her roots drink my wine
    And between my ribs
    Rests a breadbasket
    For her kin.
    She chews on my flesh,
    Slowly churning
    Me into herself.
    And
    With a whisper,
    And collapse of breath
    I give her back the olives I took
    And tenderly
    We make oil from my eyes.

    Softly,
    She bites my tongue
    And I scream out a tree.
    My nails stretch
    To grasp her drapery
    And she adorns me;
    Never forgetting
    Though digested,
    The food stain
    On her lap.

  3. Say cheese!

    Say cheese!

  4. I’m honestly curious

    If I gave you full permission to kill me in any way you wanted, no repercussions in any way, anesthetic (or none if you’d prefer, I couldn’t care less), how would you do the evil deed?

  5. The Art Of Breaking
    By: Ariel F.


    A musical doodle I recorded a few days after an incident that changed me more than I’d like to admit or show. Mostly improv. Not what I usually post. It has been rotting in the archives for a month and I just found it again and thought it sounded neat. Enjoy.

    ~Ariel.

  6. Working Title

    I promise I’ll be better in the morning
    But for now I’ll just let myself crawl
    Into the grave I’ve only known in mourning
    And in the dead end of the coffin I will sprawl

    I want to be my own demise
    I just want someone else to pull the trigger.
    I know I will not do it, but I surmise
    I can be a better me as grave digger.

    The cats are gasping underneath the floorboards
    while rats pose as friends and great gifts of France
    And the crying botanical citizens break their vocal chords
    Because no one ever gave their skin a chance

    And when sitting at the side of the road
    no one cares no one shows
    A single hint of affection

    For all have been too caught to look down
    From their phones and they drone
    At the slightest hint of infection

    But I promise I’ll be better in the morning
    But for now I’ll just let myself crawl
    Into the grave I’ve only known in mourning
    And in the dead end of the coffin I will sprawl

    I want to be my own demise
    I just want someone else to pull the trigger.
    I know I will not do it, but I surmise
    I can be a better me as grave digger.

    I still feel every word
    And every sound you sing
    It’s not what I have heard
    In darkness beckoning

    And I know that it’s absurd
    That your voice I cannot cling
    But know that it’s your burden
    That my blood is curdling.

    I want to be my own demise
    I don’t care if someone else will pull the trigger.
    I know have to do it, but I surmise
    I will be a better me as grave digger.

  7. "I want to be my own demise. I just want someone else to pull the trigger."
    Ariel

  8. People die.

    And that’s all there is to it.

  9. The Death And Return Of Superman

  10. Finished product!

    Finished product!

About me

The world is up-side-down and I am down-right-sideways. A blog about my life and the like. Also my poetry, art, and songs at random intervals. Feel free to befriend us. We do not bite.
~Ariel