Emo Dylan Geick Is Writing Poetry & It’s a Whole Mood
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Dylan Geick looks like he’s channeling Sylvia Path (sans suicide) meets Beetlejuice era Winona Ryder (“my whole life is a dark room”) in a series of photos and videos over the last 2 weeks on Insta.
And we’re here for it.
“Write the next one,” he wrote.
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‘
He’s def back on his poetry bullshit.
***
Every song I sing in the key of my heart bleeding,
to the rhythm of tremulous eyes all out of tears,
striking keys with fingers I’ve torn off reaching
for you.
.
Every highway race, dodging four wheeled bullets
just to feel my pulse again,
one long road to my knees,
and every near death the clearest reification
of your godhood.
.
I watch my severed feet blacken burning
in the fire before me
desperate to cleanse what’s carried me.
Feel the flames lick up my thighs,
groin stinging,
now my chest and all the muscle charred.
What was once so tightly wound laid bare
to smoke and ash for all the world.
.
Reach for my throat,
sputtering love and false prophecy.
Close it finally and find truth
in my cooking brain.
What remains?
FUUUCK that’s so hot.
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KEEP GOING DYL!
Even in my sleep,
grind my teeth
bite my cheek
and wake with fresh claw marks
on the soul.
.
.
Where is the sand I was dreaming of,
so long ago?
Where are you Christmas
why can’t I find you?
Does my lonely shrieking ring
in the empty void?
Blood run through gutters –
dogs gnaw hands gone still –
and but two blind eyes to seek the glory.
.
.
Goodnight moon.
Goodnight brush.
Driving nails through my palms
and whispering hush.
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***
OK HE’S REALLY GOING THROUGH IT.
Last night I prayed to god
any of which I don’t believe in
my despair a horrible human sound
the black darkness of the soul laid bare
and silence in answer.From where did this passion come
tempest in the dark night
shaking what foundations I never poured
but were laid so careless at my feet?
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###
K
E
E
P
G
O
I
N
G
He took them and sent them across the stream, and everything else that he had. And Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day.
. . .
Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?”
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FUCKING SLEEPER HOLD….
s
o
DONE…
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Geick has merged the spirit of analog and digital without being tethered to either. It’s why he can toggle from answering questions about bottoming and his sugar daddy on Youtube one week and then hit the cover of VMan talking about chain smoking and penning poetry while waiting to be redeployed to Afghanistan.
For Geick who emerged as a freshman wrestling star at Columbia it’s another day as a digital beatnik.
Dylan’s second volume of poems, I Have Been Bleeding, is available now.
Dylan explains what went into the writing below.
