stay-trashy

I rust. I, who they called "unsinkable" --once Sleep in ghostly slumber. In my cradle I sense Bodies breaking down. They cry with me about Loss and sacrifice Sometimes when I forget to feel. The Grand Staircase is screaming Every last table and chair is Kneeling Baby dolls are weeping Do they lust for eternity? At times I yearn for my lost children Those that lie yards From my mast And those generations descended Alike They should walk my bow Caress my stairwell Play in my parlor rooms; Shake me awake For you are One thousand, five hundred And seventeen Perished And I am One Not yet dead.

i want to be the one behind the camera lens                                  capturing you and keeping you contained to memory i want to be the boundary of your skin and keep you enclosed with all the limbs                                  i have to offer. i want to know your every part and have midnight conversations with them. i want to be the sand                                 and the sea because they've been seeing a whole lot more of you lately,                                   than i ever had. even the mountains have been making comments on your lovliness,                                and they hardly ever even b