my heart is melting in my chest everything is blurry I’m constricting, constricting, reducing the pain is so large but I have become so small a tiny insignificant thing you never noticed my disappearance I’m a ghost now a shadow of former things a former me maybe I was never real to begin with tara […]
black beetles creeping down the walls eyes stare out nothing behind them except everything everything everything every thing nothing behind them at all black beetles clickety-click-cuhlicking along ash curlicues swirls and slithers through my veins dancing pearls down my veins alphabet ash moves slow out my veins my veins as roads to pure thought black […]
The dark veil descends and I find myself unable to lift it. It settles quietly. I close my eyes. Something whispers. I am wicked so I shiver. It coils around my shoulders. I am shrinking, shrinking. I am afraid eventually I will disappear. tara caribou | ©2020 Read this and more in my poetry book, […]
A mind-bending science-fiction short story collaboration series with A.P. Christopher.
You attempt to crawl inside my head Inside my head Inside my head You attempt But you don’t know me You think you do But I know better That you see what you want You see what I let you So you attempt to creep and slither To break and enter To place inside of […]
Silence surrounds me Smoke curling out my nostrils Inhaling your words Left me breathless No matter They are oxygen to my lungs Slipping my fingers lower I’ll write your name there Just like I’ll use my tongue To sign my name along your thighs There’s poetry written across your clavicle And beneath my breasts Hushed […]
My review of Tim Miller’s short story collection “The Lonely Young and The Lonely Old”.
I didn’t give up on you No, I couldn’t just walk away You tried to hide your face from me And yet I stayed I stayed through the dark hours Through the hot glistening tears I stayed when laughter barked roughly Tearing from your throat Harsh reminders of harsher days I stayed when you had […]
We should get one thing straight, I’m not gentle laughter and soft words spoken at 2am, I’m not stroking touches and whispers of breath upon your throat, I’m not delicate heartbeats and a musical voice I mean, Unless by softly spoken words you mean that you want your name laced with filthy expressions at 3am […]
My review of Braeden Michaels’ collection of poetry, “The Raven’s Poison.”