Login
Forgot Password?

OR

Login with Google Login with Twitter Login with Facebook
  • Join
  • Profiles
  • Groups
  • SuicideGirls
  • Photos
  • Videos
  • Shop
Vital Stats

reypulque

Member Since 2007

Followers 170 Following 629

  • Everything
  • Photos
  • Video
  • Blogs
  • Groups
  • From Others

a light shines through

Jan 11, 2021
3
  • Facebook
  • Tweet
  • Email

It lands like flag planting Apollo, touches down as if deified by the occasion, the flesh the apparent heir to the pursuit of day. It lands like the twist off notes spilled from hook or bridge, a progression that frees itself from context by meddling with your head. The sky seeps slow and gray, spilling from the window, leaving by the door. The instrument growls and rasps, what complaints they carry they sink in the soil, becoming background and landscape upon insistent interrogation. Not the ceaseless ingress of the window, not the left open door on a day heavy and uncaring. Still somehow a light shines through.

It’s not parallel to the strut and the story. It’s not the divergence of actions into separate worlds one room over. The day has its way and the words follow their usage, torrents and showers and unearthly powers, worked into the just so skull in a just so world. The skin wakes to the spirit of the shine, the soul of the ordained sun a wash of colors, a swatch pad of earnest hues for would be walls. The skin wakes before the alibi, before even the appetite and the crown. A candle left burning, a prayer somewhere, the brush of earthly thought against your name. The brilliance you feel to your bones.

Out the gate the day outclassed me, I was out of the running before I found my step. The light goes missing and stays that way. I smoke on the cold brick and cracked cement porch, the coiled plumes climbing up the eaves, the dull day running out behind me. Meager wants that are unachievable, a reaching wildly against the facts as the ends close in, the writhing despite the done. Old man dithering at the end of a played out day, missing all the what if worlds and one sided loves. A story despite the epilogue. A lens is left if nothing else. A way the words once tried.

More Blogs

  • 05.12.24
    0

    the call

    Yet another day, the front porch spilling smoke into the shifting a…
  • 04.11.24
    0

    simmer

    The hours drag and drawl, the vision blurs and fades. The world is …
  • 03.12.24
    0

    chiming of the vendors

    It is there in the playing out of the song, in the fade of the ligh…
  • 02.26.24
    0

    recess

    There really is no alarm, no sharp end to this report. I sip a micr…
  • 02.22.24
    0

    invocation

    This is how your letter finds me, as beaten and bowed as nature all…
  • 01.22.24
    0

    skyward

    Weeds spill from the eaves and the puddles ripple concentric on the…
  • 12.12.23
    0

    hey day

    Each day some half down arrival, each day a hapless waving goodbye,…
  • 11.30.23
    0

    garbage apostle

    It’s not like the words were waiting, the sheen of rain, the fallin…
  • 10.06.23
    0

    ghost wiring

    Comes to the lay of the day I declaim the decline smack in the coun…
  • 09.12.23
    1

    9 mile cigarette

    There’s not much to do once the sinking sets in, once you feel the …

We at SuicideGirls have been celebrating alternative pin-up girls for:

23
years
11
months
24
days
  • 5,509,826 fans
  • 41,393 fans
  • 10,327,617 followers
  • 4,608 SuicideGirls
  • 0 followers
  • 14,965,798 photos
  • 321,315 followers
  • 61,504,741 comments
  • Join
  • Profiles
  • Groups
  • Photos
  • Videos
  • Shop
  • Help
  • About
  • Press
  • LIVE

Legal/Tos | DMCA | Privacy Policy | 18 U.S.C. 2257 Record-Keeping Requirements Compliance Statement | Contact Us | Vendo Payment Support
©SuicideGirls 2001-2025

Press enter to search
Fast Hi-res

Click here to join & see it all...

Crop your photo