33 Altars, January, 2016
[CW: bones, suggestive content]
You drop your glasses, shed each optical nerve. The pillow sighs with the peel of skin to show vertebrae. Discover how each disc surrenders to my hands. Let them know the pallid ridge of your sigh every time I clear those mounds of hilly mice. Pale and modern may your dwelling be, the bones tell a truth deeper than thoracic bones or Jurassic fossils. Long after this block of “luxury” apartments turns to relics, you’ll relish the ossified altar of warmth from sacrum to coccyx.
I wrote this poem inspired by a recent MoodMilk post, written by Ryan Stephen Thornton and pixiewithpens. Thank you both for giving us permission and encouragement to be chaotic little goblins with our poetry! These prompts were an important reminder that I’m writing to have fun, dingnabbit (especially considering I ain’t making any money off this). I actually lost track of which specific prompt I used, but maybe you can find it for me below:



Literally felt the sensation of someone’s hand on my spine, like felt my spine tingle.
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Wowowowow very sexy, very dark. I love it.