lie across the taurobolium at the motherless spring without feeling, without breath; pale mulberries infiltrate the wind in ice dark of obscured dreams by the sea-green void, vanishing by the surf, as the fresh dew slumbers in the whiteness of morning exorcised with twigs of the dying trees. flicker with the nightly, strange sea, the [...]
the dark slithers, betraying the scarlet moon into the mellifluous hunger in each haze, a new mother of spring, the hills, the silence of untiring wanton blood broken between each finger and bone, nesting in the shadows in immense maddened breath across the perennial wound that dispels with the rain and alluvium struck with the [...]
flowers for you bursting like a ghost; red and white violets that were in a market shop your eyes hunted them and they were yours; as the street calls out in loneliness the telephone replays with your voice engraved in a blue marble vase by the sea gone. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
lonely, born in the ecstasy this root of blood; walk away into the forbidden, unmade road split and wounded, eternally with revived memory, the stranger of winter shadows into the dark planetary motion, the insanity picked from flowers will too go on as we walk away. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Solitude arrayed in language unnoticed in its death, as the leaves survive the siege of winter, taloned with wounds rejoicing in the wind. In my dreams, there is silence as the flowers die through our eyes; whispers held, empty, beneath our feet of the grey stone, leave a rock after death they exist unlike flowers [...]
tyranny blinded by the ghost of an isthmus, dark eyes fed upon your laugh like a poison to surge, the chill when you look at me; the dust of the horizon shapes cruelty. Reaped in the quiet like a violent beast as solitude precedes covering the ashes blistering on the pale shore this void of [...]
A/N: Another piece I wrote for an instrumental I created on Soundcloud. Check it out here. Early blooms rise at six axed in pale winter, a tumor of silence; in the white blossoms, fresh snow falls the night paradise lost into the womb and raid of memory, forgotten in the mist we entreat. A temporal [...]
you'll always be alone in the city; gone, the final breath in the icy mouths the secret of a lover, in the absence of morning and the affinity of dark at night; a fucked up dream stares left in its presence in the old city lights, warmer than the protestation that rebels against animal bones [...]
at mind's end, the winter sets the dawn, coffee and creamer, while the silent encroachment blossoms in the ripe mist. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Winter falls away, traces never ending like the tattered twilight alone; the serpent’s blood betrays the sea of lovers that fall upon the memory one by one. In blue wailing of the sea glare white diffused with ivory bone meeting the whisper of cold silence, the exile of our ghosts, the depth of language when [...]
A/N: Wrote this piece for a soundtrack I recently created. You can check it out here on Soundcloud. rye blows in the wind we have waited hidden in the dead valleys, broken upon the strange pale shore, open in a blue vapor over deprived sense what do I feel? I want to forget it all. I [...]
lament in autumn grief, a shadow of a touch leafing as bones; empty windows and shops, isolation of sense when there is none left for you or I, for you or I as the river leaves in the wind it is a paradox in the cold. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Blue fog, derived from the morning, Dancing alone in an orchard with the breeze, In a world torn with a hunt—a slow death for us all, Then don’t let us go then. We walk alone into the arterial landscape... Read more here. You can also find more of my work here.
mauvaises terres. I. The Old Line. We drink red tea in the winter and summer by the pale, ocean shore with rain feeding on the sunlight with coffee beans, and spoke in broken languages to each other originating from your father in different countries of Europe, he speaks almost a dozen languages. You wished he [...]
fingers of waves beauty in ocean’s skeleton to the rhythmic death like a lover among the tides; the path is yellow with petiole leaves in the dew fields, the darkened orchards in the brush of wind looms. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
illustrated in millenniums where our scars fall, while silence deranges sanctity in the deep spines and limbs of animals I can almost remember; the landscape fire sleeps lingering in a land from god, watching often on the shore as we become held to the distant sacrifice of the memory; as the ocean is pierced with [...]
One memory death has fallen like the decayed fruit; the shores have frozen, and our bones are shivering dark-blue; a shadowy world with beauty as it faded there is no promise under the oak tree nor the wilderness of the flowers nor the maples on lashed dead rocks there is no promise for me or [...]
dreams in the Sahara insanity in the flamenco acedia, I linger in the ocean floor, stripped in fertile silence as frost knows death better than I. the typhoon, the sailor it festers the dying beast of the albatross and the ocean sea. she’ll kiss the divine blue waves with fury, summoning the wind’s womb; in [...]
nude into the enraptured forbidden sea, behalf the whisper, its madness in autumn at its wake, unknown into the burial of yellow roses, in the tears of ghostly sands, tossing from forgotten sea light silhouetted against torn anamnesis these shadows of our time, in etiolated remembrance, our memories are hidden. the sanctity of blood that [...]
the waves in the dying of the dark by frozen, alluring dreams when you’ve never dreamt unsheathed upon each layer of rock that bleeds out by daylight where we see the blood drift, sliced in a sleepwalking geyser the dispensation of mid-summer, choked upon the shoreline ‘where have you been?’ I say, ’nowhere. It could [...]