May 25, 2012

by Elexa Rose
I don’t want to breathe
unless I’m
breathing in sickly sweet.
I will unwrap and suck and swallow.
I watch lights
in shapes of people,
they speak but
I don’t care.
My body
doesn’t want to move.
Why should it?
It sticks out where it should
slope inwards.
I wish my
eyes had that look,
that look that catches.
it spills over and
up the walls and
over my toes.
It runs.
Please don’t look at me
unless you really
I’ll let you hold my
and we’ll watch trash and
listen to trash
talk trash
smoke trash.
Intricate symbols
and electrical impulses
in our heads
let us feel

Her Curse
December 24, 2011

by Elexa Rose
He cast a spell asunder
so that she may see
more than any man before.
She would count the freckles
on a blade of grass,
and laugh along with the
chitter and splutter of
small, grey wood louse.
He watched her linger
at the edge of an axed forest
as she traced the lines of
a fallen tree’s years.
Round and around,
the circles made her head spin.
“Women need not for such
needless curiosities,” he said,
but he could not lift her curse.