alasanon: (simple and clean)
I just want to post it quietly and anonymously and to hell with the fandom. Really.

I want maybe two or three people to know.

I want to put my name in it somewhere quietly, where no one will notice unless they're really looking because really looking deserves a reward.

It'll be really odd, since it's so much bigger than anything I've written before, but ... well. It's what I want from this particular piece of writing. So....that's that, I guess.
alasanon: (simple and clean)
it was twenty years ago this week
when I stepped from one world into another
I carried little enough with me at the time
but the baggage has weighed on me since
I don't want eighteen back, not for all the feathers
on a phoenix
but a sense of ease might do me well
my will of iron has bent so many times
I might as well be lead, sinking and dull
pierced by countless swords and buried
my freedom is nearly old enough to drink
so I raise this glass
alasanon: (twisted)
But only time will tell if I mean trees or people or gods.
alasanon: (simple and clean)
All the rivers were running high and brown this weekend, splashing the wrong directions and worrying at their banks.
alasanon: (Default)
We drove down the coast, through the perpetual mist and the redwoods. The ocean was white, waves rolling over the beaches. I could hear them over the drone of the tires and cars on either side.

I wanted to stop and stare out at the sea, but we were in a hurry.
alasanon: (Default)
...well, let's be honest here, since it's literally JUST ME at this point. I've apparently entirely abandoned my former home and decided to move to a place no one knows. What a dream, what a fantasy, ah--me.

Maybe I can be more blatant? Maybe I can risk a little more? Maybe I can access some of the bravery that I used to wear so casually.

This isn't a private journal. This isn't where I go to pour out pain to the few (the proud, the xxxxxxxxxxx), nor is it the place I stash my internal voices.

This is the place that may be hidden but is never a secret.

Anyway. Most of the poems I've been half-writing have been about a particular anime series from last fall. So. Now you know, and it's not that mysterious after that. ;)
alasanon: (Default)
We all wear them.
We hold them to our faces, a different one for each purpose.
alasanon: (simple and clean)
I'm in a state of crisis, like so much of the world.
It's hard to feel like poetry and creativity have a strong part to play in the present moment.

But I want them. Selfishly, I want to keep this going. I want to have it be honest and true this year, as much as I can make it.

It's my birthday soon. I want that to be a day for joy, if it can be. For fun and maybe for seeing friends.
It's only ten minutes from now, to the number. Four and a half hours to the moment.

the sweetness of your
mouth opening for a kiss
my heart breaks each time
alasanon: (Default)
We wasted no time, crushing our own hearts to pulp with the grace of a thousand suns.
alasanon: (simple and clean)
the hour is late, or rather, soft

Excuse moi.

1/10/17 12:11 am
alasanon: (simple and clean)
I have no context for the shape of your mouth
the way your lips encompass my name
syllables slipping forth like prayers
only a breath from falling

I have no defense from the slide of your hands
down my back, sleek and sharp by turns
the way you mold me into certain forms
necessity twined with pleasure

How strange.

1/3/17 11:19 pm
alasanon: (Default)

strange for you, you say, and hard
but consider the weight of years
the stigma of being alone after so long
how it would feel to have toys underfoot
years after the last of us had grown


12/27/16 11:33 pm
alasanon: (simple and clean)
There is no subtlety in your hands
Your fingers stout and sure
sounding out the rhythm of my pulse
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