You are a language I am no longer fluent in / but still remember how to read. — #AsheVernon, from “Skeleton Song Eye see shots every where Eye Go https://www.instagram.com/p/B28JHPyh1b9/?igshid=1k64pfjgxhr7v
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Im so wxcited about both of these books ☺️📖 #pleasefindthis #iwrotethisforyou #bellyofthebeast #books #newones! #yaaas #ashevernon #iainthomas
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Oh. So there's that. 😅 . . . #ashevernon #melting #poetryisnotdead
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This is the story of how I never stopped running. This is the story of how, when the wolves knocked, I met them at the door and I became the beast, instead. – from “Little Red” // Belly of the beast #AsheVernon #wuttup . . . 📸 : @lesterplatt (at Williamsburg, Brooklyn)
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💘 #AsheVernon
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For #him. Ashe Vernon ~ ~ ~ Also follow: @sleeplessmagazine @sleeplessclubmusic @sleeplesspainting @sleeplessdivstyle ~ ~ ~ #mag #magazine #sleepless #sleeplessmagazine #neversleep #beautiful #art #millenials #creative #creator #writing #writer #ashevernon #vernon #poet #nosleep #book #poem #poetry #journal #literature #quote #cantsleep
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“...God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
oh,
you put him on his knees...”
Profane
-Ashe Vernon
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This is the story of how I never stopped running. This is the story of how, when the wolves knocked, I met them at the door and I became the beast, instead. – from “Little Red” // Belly of the beast #AsheVernon . . . 📸 : @lesterplatt (at Williamsburg, Brooklyn)
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"The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
oh,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name."
Profane, by Ashe Vernon
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I think my heart broke somewhere between hearing you say "I miss you" and "She seems nice" I think my heart broke, quite literally, shattered inside my chest and festered in its remains there, with splinters still tearing into my fleshy insides every time I see a picture of her and you I think my heart broke too soon and bled into my visceral organs, and now my stomach feels the pain of it too, collapsing with every song we ever made a memory to My heart was just brand new when you showed up and caressed it awake I think my heart was much too small and fragile and never fully healed My heart, My poor baby beating heart My very own ghostly shipwreck A voiceless drum against my taped up ribs This echo... - Velvetta "Iceberg Lettuce"
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