Windsor BlueWindsor Blue
I am erasing you, and I am happy.
These roads could be consuming our souls and
would be none the wiser.
I slept on the hard shoulder, in the grass and you
drove ahead, flesh and bone and heart beating against ribs between lungs that work like paper swans
litter the tables and floors in a hotel 300 miles away
in the middle of a place where I've been left before.
There is no other set of co-ordinates on the face of this earth that looks exactly like this
exactly like you as you connect the cables and
let me sleep 'cause you know my energy levels are running low and it's
one hell of a drive, socks full of holes that you press to the pedal to
accelerate this heap of metal and plastic and tacky fabric pulling apart at the seams.
"I can't help you," consonants drifting in and out of the smoke from your mouth, "if you won't help yourself."
I am erasing you, and I am lost between here and Montauk and Idaho and home is calling,
or would be if I could catch it but
a radiant light over mexico.a radiant light over mexico.a radiant light over mexico.6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
dear maria, i am writing to you from a city of stars.
i stood at the bridge, watched the cars shine in and out of black and
i remembered the snowflakes in your eyelashes and strands of your
hair. we stepped in from the cold and brushed all the tiny little stars
from eachother's clothes, and we sank into the plush couch in your
front room with the heating up full and buried beneath the blankets.
there are stars in the high-rises, tiny squares of life in
space and valerie is sat in her desk chair, she's keeping
herself awake all night to finish that big project for the
board tomorrow. she rubs her fingers against tired eyes
and wills the night to dissipate around her, give way to
morning and the great rebirth.
there are stars in the depths of the riverbeds, weeds
growing small and thriving off the gift of life under the
rippling surface, and they hope to one day break free
from their watery confines. we crushed them with the
weight of our laughter, tre
a lesser beauty.a lesser beauty.a lesser beauty.6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
i ran through the darkness for an eternity to find you
lost my way in a world that never was
and it took me years to find the light.
spent my days drinking some miracle elixir that
helped me escape the void in the hollow of my ribcage
where i sometimes think i slept away infinity.
you are a bond of flame licking away at my skin, connected
to a deep vast ocean somewhere in the islands of destiny
you are building wooden rafts to take you to the new world
where you waste two months from a year trying to be three
halves of a whole and fighting away the feeling that you hold
parts of another's memory in your troubled shaken head.
i am the swirl of colour when you stare too long at the burning sun,
i will set you alight if you don't watch your footing with the utmost care.
on a clock tower we carved keys and chakrams out of sheets of steel
[if i had known you were going to walk out on us, i would have put
them on chains to rest against the concave of your neck
elegy in c minor.elegy in c minor.elegy in c minor.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
at the piano he sits
his fingers are poised over her ivory keys like death angels over the lord's bones.
as though they are attracted but never meant to meet, and his breath rattles through his body with each inhale.
fleeting is the first touch, a tangle of notes pure in their discord
and there are oceans and sprawling foreign lands between us.
following: the resurrection.
your hands work at the grand and bring forth an adagio of melancholy.
each note rings lonely into the air and i am trapped in an evening four
years in the past where you played for me the first time.
you were fifteen and surrounded by a glass skin cracked in so many places i feared you'd get everlasting scars when it finally shattered.
you were fifteen and tugging the moonlight sonata from that one hollow in your ribcage you kept safely hidden from the world's prying eyes.
you were fifteen and secretly miserable, longing for turtle days and hayfever and the carelessness o
a train ride north.a train ride north.a train ride north.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
really, we are children in our parents' clothes.
they think we've grown but we're still small
and i still have that tiny multicoloured blanket.
i hide it in my attic because i don't want you to see how weak i am
i don't want you to see how much i'm still struggling with this life.
when we speak next you will invite me to your sister's housewarming party.
we'll get so drunk we forget who we even are
and i'll agree to go with you even though we both know it'll be bad for me.
we are lying in a field way out of town when you tell me about that time you loved me.
i'm looking at my fingers as they tear at the grass because i'm wishing i was anywhere else
i could be in paris or rome or tokyo and sinking in,
becoming a new person in a place where no one knows my name.
we both know the summer will end and the days we see eachother will be few and far between
and so you asked me about who i am.
will you finally find yourself out there in the big
dear midnightmy earthy mattress tickles my neckdear midnight5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as i lay down to stare at my love,
but i am not looking over;
i am looking up.
power lines scar her stellar
dark-blue face, and city lights
pollute her skin like a thousand
spotlights on an over-powdered model.
but i am not concerned about
her blemishes; no, tonight i am here
to find flawlessness beneath
and so i gaze
the stars are the freckles
on heaven's nose, and the clouds
the hair of Venus herself.
i reach up to try to sift my fingers
through her wispy white locks,
but find she is too far away.
a single star drifts across the dark
cheeks of the night, and i fear
she is crying over our unrequited
distance. i can see her
clear as crystal vision,
but i am merely
a speck on her spectacles.
i turn my head and see
the harvest moon cradled
in heaven's arms, her craters
frothing over like chilled strawberry
wine, and i
i am drunk.
a secret oath.a secret oath.a secret oath.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"madness need not be all breakdown; it may also be
break-through. it is potential liberation and renewal
as well as enslavement and existential death."
- r. d. laing
imagine your bone structure collapsing in on itself, birthday sticks in the mudpie of your flesh, and eyes like glass, blue as all the oceans and glinting as the light curves through them, odd little chips of endless third dimension. imagine as i do, these separate features animated. an awkward caricature of limbs at impossible bends and intersections, levitating in the space between worlds where your half-body splinters, the shards of your bones are swallowed by the earth and i wake to the familiar sense of a gaping, yawning loss.
sundays run fluidly into one another until suddenly each moment becomes a disjointed struggle between will and sympathy and some sort of hybrid, a collaboration in soulache of disappointment, anger and the guilt that drags itself after, a crawling heavy sense on th
second chance simon.second chance simon.second chance simon.5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
it's only after the cops raid his home that i realise i could have saved you this time.
i always see these things too late, i know. and you would have laughed all soft and understanding and told me
you can't go saving every broken soul, you know.
you have to leave some to the fire and some to the angels.
you have to let them have their revelations, let them fly or fall on their own.
then, the loss.
the guilt was stronger than anything i'd ever felt before.
i am still twelve years old and curled on simon's bedroom floor.
i am still thinking about all the signs i missed, and missing them again.
i am still stood over the headstone in the rain on his birthday.
january 22nd tugs at my flesh and bursts my veins and presses hard against my eyes.
(i still make a wish on its final moment and hope it reaches you in your endless tomb.)
there are so many things i wish i had told you.
your hair reminds me of magical midnight, and when it sticks up in tufts i think of
mend.i. fix me, please. she exhaled angels wishes and white lace, fingers fumbling over his collar and tears tripping their way down her cheeks.mend.6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
he smiled softly and pressed cold lips to her forehead, pretending that he could make everything better in calm hands and silent whispers.
but his structure held no magic, and he will never be capable of miracles.
she believed him when she shouldnt have.
ii. they wasted tuesdays running under rainbows and
kissing freckled noses and singing along with broken radio static.
no matter how much she dreamedhopedwished he was real,
they were really just a disaster waiting to happen; never a rainbow. for them;
life was more of a tornado.
iii. they made love on sundays and drank coffee in pale sheets, fingerpainted blue hearts and explored rain-covered streets in thin clothes - just because.
in the beginning there was nothing more that they needed, but after a while, just because fell
seven days.shes just a pile of white limbs passing outseven days.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on a red canvas of
bedsheets and broken bones and splintered hearts.
she wakes up with tear-streaked eyes and her window panes
clouded with broken promises.
shed smile, but theres no fixing
other peoples mistakes.
she decides that we all have twins living in an alternate dimension, and
whenever they do something terribly wrong we get punished here. its really
the only way to explain why things just cant be fair.
she wouldnt mind life being just a game of chance, if she had better luck.
she wonders if fake smiles can buy her way into hearts. she wonders
if smiles can buy anything, anymore.
she needs to stop complaining.
she falls asleep with no will to live, praying that god
erase her permanently.
the sun rises red with apathy and regret. if he was there
he would dry her tears and kis
he was a storyteller.We would sit under moon cloudshe was a storyteller.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watching the sun sparkles disappear
from the crowded air. You told me
that every one word answer
had a story behind it.
[I guess you were a storyteller, just
not wanting to share your stories;
your first reaction to everything was
"Do you care?"
a. You spent summers in my attic,
refusing to let the dust kill beauty.
You would rhyme off Shakespeare, as
we would forget about the stars, and
count tree limbs instead.
b. You watched me catch lies and turn
them into truths. I was oblivious to the
flashing signs telling me to watch out
for the fall ahead of me. Maybe I thought
you would be there to catch me.
c. You would tell me, "shh stop talking,
you'll ruin it." I never found out what 'it'
was until you were on the front porch
begging me not to cry. "Just stop, you've
already ruined us."
"Did you ever care?"
honesty blue.honesty blue.honesty blue.6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
you told me
my eyes were black coals, simmering and smouldering in november air.
the first time we met you asked me if i was a winter child,
and when i confirmed your suspicions you smiled that knowing smile,
told me you could tell by my snow-skin and the way i wouldn't lock eyes with your honesty blues.
you bought me alice bands for the spring,
wrapped them in doc leaves around a brown box
and tied a red card to it with daisy stems.
you used to make me take my glasses off,
said i would set your heart alight if you looked at my coal-eyes long enough
like a young boy holding concave glass over an anthill under the sun of summer.
[i knew then, you liked to play with fire a little too much for my health to handle.]
let's grate down some of that optimism, shall we?
here's the plan
step one: the introductions. a lingering touch of the arm, or an embrace. or possibly both.
step two: the friendship. talks at midnight, histories and aspirati
achromatopsiai.achromatopsia6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'technicolor' isn't a real shade
so stop calling it your favorite
especially since these days
all i see are inbetweens
i've got this brand of blindness
that doesn't let me drown in the blue of your eyes
or taste the honey-coated golden of your skin
all i see is grey.
[and you never were beautiful in black and white.]
you like to talk in what-ifs and maybes
with oversaturated swirls of indifference
but you don't seem to get that it's those things i'm missing
with my eyes slowly falling into these patterns of grayscaled simplicity
my mind's searching for clearer answers in this scrabble board mystery
so as you stumble on eight letters that are begging to be heard
i'll let you have a few of mine:
'u' and 'i' are only vowels
[and they're definitely not in 'l - o - v - e'.]
and i'm not sure if i can decipher what you mean to me
when all i see are the same tired tones and none of the multichromatics.
you used to live in the space between clouds
where you would breathe liquid clar
definitely, maybe collab.i. you are a mish-mashdefinitely, maybe collab.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of never-ending smiles and toxic beauty.
you're a tangle of scattered thoughts
and makeshift perfection; you make
the seven wonders of the world jealous.
"maybe someday arrows
will guide us through the milky way, and we'll use
the stars as stepping stones."
"maybe we'll play hopscotch in the sky,
surrounded by little fragments of dreams
that dancers forgot to remember."
ii. you're the displacement in a
chemical reaction; you're the magnesium,
and i'm mercury (only liquid at room
too close to the sun for life to
and the messenger they loved to
you are a butterfly's wings
when it discovers its new skin,
somehow more beautiful in that
single moment than for the rest of its
life. you loved to dissect them;
"maybe if I study them for long enough,
Ill be able to figure out how to
i already found out flying
is overrated, but i wont ruin
iii. dirt and crumpled paper airplanes
clog your ribs.
the hard year.the hard year5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the hard year
the house was a bruise-
blood clotting and pregnant
beneath the wood.
the rooms held darkness longer
and smelled of life in reverse-
our young bodies bent, but tight as clothes-pins.
the flowers in the yard were firecrackers
and more than once I slept
in a weed jungle, fingers stripped cables,
wrapped in chicken wire boxing gloves.
in the hard year,
you hit like your father
and I climbed stairs
without making a sound.
rabbit hole criminalsthey once asked me if i've ever been inlove.rabbit hole criminals5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
liars are fictional characters.
they've stolen our thoughts and inverted our speech
and we spew trails of trains beneath streetlights
and wonder why they can never look at us
quite the same.
i said no.
i could hear you crying on the other end of the phone you know.
liars tumble from room to room,
you heard they live between your lips,
between your sheets and and when she
smiles so wide and spills her glass slipper
kisses, liars are wide awake.
liars are fictional characters.
they've stolen our names, our agendas
and backwashed our soap stained lips.
and we look so clueless when they ask us to repeat
this is head spin, this is
that one night you left me crying on the curb.
and it still hurts like it used to.
i hung up before you could get a chance to speak.
these flowers won't ever bloom again.
horns.horns.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the thing about the antelope is that he does not know the difference between the grass and the ocher. between the fence and the fall. he tilts his feral head towards the august sky and smells the monsoon on the slow and steady breath of the earth, is unconcerned. runs to feel the hard stage below him, does not tire, does not slow, does not imagine anything better. does not imagine. he grazes. knows the time of which the sun becomes sleepy, crawls across the horizon until it is hidden in the grasses. sleeps tawny-colored with the sun and does not worry about night-terrors and hungry mouths until the moment they sniff him out.
do you know?01.do you know?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
do you know how badly
she wanted you to breathe?
she'd take polaroid snapshots of the air around you
and she stuck all onehundredeightythree photos
in a little photo album
that she labelled help
so that, maybe,
if she helped you take those breaths
she could finally be your reason for living
since she could never be
just by herself.
do you know how badly
she loved you?
everytime you stepped into the room
it seemed like you'd replaced all the oxygen
and she couldn't breathe
but she loved that glorious feeling of you filling her lungs
pulsing through her veins
and even when she got lightheaded and saw stars
not one of them was more brilliant
do you know how badly
she missed you?
she spent every night awake until the sun came up,
waiting for her phone to ring
and your name to flash on the screen
but all she ever got
was a beep and a warning: low battery
and those dark circles under her eyes
and she wrote you letters
telling you everything she couldn't pu
ways to bewipe the blood from your brow,ways to be5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lay down shaking.
somedays are more difficult than others,
i say as some form of excuse; you say,
i don't want to think of the somedays just now.
there are angels on your breath and light in your fingers.
pressing for compromise,
positions turn to look past ourselves
on the ceiling tiles,
the floor, outer spaces
all the places we never used to see.
i miss youwhen you leavei miss you4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am bitter and cold,
like frost around the heart
it's running through my veins
and i am so cold.
i wrap the arms which should be yours around myself. i wait for who should be you. i wait. and there are landslides and volcanoes and ash clouds rising in the sky. and i can only think of you. there are trillions of stars in the night sky, behind the clouds, there are imprints of what once shone so bright and i can only think of you.
there are lovers, and they are so close. and there are lovers, so far apart. there are lovers. and we sunk with the tides. we sunk with the tides and anchored on ocean floors. i can see your smile when i close my eyes, so i close my eyes just for awhile.
but i only open my eyes
to find myself
Masochistpunch, kick, kneeMasochist7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beatings in the rhythm of
one, two, three
eyes close, body tenses, breath hitches
harmoniously in anticipation
of the next painful blow
wince, cough, bleed
reactions in the rhythm of
one, two, three
an electric shock runs down my spine
high off the taste (and scent)
of the blood trickling in my mouth
hate, rage, glee
feelings in the rhythm of
one, two three
each burst of agony, every shot of pain
keeps me alive, helps me remember
i exist (i am here)
travels in the lower casefull, with a tank of philosophytravels in the lower case6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and black coffee.
we took back roads,
like cheap poets, to places
time breaks chains to flee.
tuning radio frequencies. staring straight.
avoiding discussions, intimate conversations.
hearts beating around brown axle orbits,
across the flaking continent.
tire drones and hums. rotations of rubber.
the sun rises,
with mad sightings and camera diaries.
coloured buses, country kids kiting,
they offer sky-on-red distractions.
crossroads with old droughts.
of please slow-down
concrete. bullet holed signs.
and in town halls the
dusty ploughers gather to gossip,
rumours of rainclouds.
its dark on the plains,
i piss with the craters of the moon
and the wind.
sleepy fence posts hold wonders
and age and cattle.
the prairie heat
shimmers like a fluid dream.
dry, cracked earth holds stories
of the future, land palmistry.
and a truckstop arrives, here we
are aliens. and u.f.o's
and traffic lights
nightmares.i. theres only so much you can say untilnightmares.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lips crack open and words fall short.
he prays that his rough hands and broken thoughts
can get the point across, but
feeble touches never sounded much like love.
ii. he talked of how many girls he fucked,
while you told him how many boys youve loved, and watched as
the numbers were almost the same.
sex and love are completely different. you informed him late one night.
I know. his fingers whispered as they brushed along the curve of your spine, not-quite-lovingly.
iii. the only feeling you become aware of is one of
confusion and murky lightheadedness, the world
spinning and falling in technicolour.
you would call yourself numb, but you cant distinguish
the difference between feeling nothing at all and
(is there even a difference?)
iv. sometimes he would swear that the nighttime was his time, and that
the place he felt most comfortable was the dirty streets behind your apa