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railroad crossingshe pulled up and parked.railroad crossing4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
as she lit a cigarette, she thought about all the hours left in the day, and all the things left undone.
she thought about her neighbor, a strange cat lady, and how her ridiculous amount of cats made the building stink, and how her downstairs neighbor cooked meth in his kitchen, and how sadly ironic it was that a drug-addict was constantly slaving over the stove and always growing thinner.
she thought about the school children, and how some of them would go home to a nice, warm meal and a bedtime story, while others went home to a beating and an empty stomach, while still others went home and killed themselves whi
12poetry123 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
should only be
in
b r o a d s h e e t s -
[where the ink is tangible where words have faces
words rush between my &#
After DickinsonThere is a Queen all clad in silkAfter Dickinson10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Whose cloak is purest white –
She lives atop a tower of green
And outshines Moon by night –
Her crown is of the purest gold,
And golden is her spire –
And when the lowly leave this earth
She visits at the bier –
She mourns without opaque remorse –
But rather, lays her head
Below the corpse's whitewashed face
And shares his final bed –
And when her consort rises up
And leaves her on her own,
She gives up all her worldly grace
And fades into his bone –
drowning mermaidsa body of water lays crumpled on the side of the road,drowning mermaids4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the ambulance lights gyrate and the shrieks of the seabirds
are drowned out by the wailing siren, saaave meee, saaave meee.
the cops mill around, doodling stick figures and question marks on their pads,
and no one really knows anything about the bodies unaccounted for.
if it looks like a fish, smells like a fish,
it's probably a dead girl wrapped in plastic bags,
that's what the police men are laughing about over coffee at denny's that night.
she looked beautiful, like a mermaid, one of the rookies muttered,
a thin boy with downcast eyes staring into the depths of his mug.
his s
inner space tangothere was one brief moment ofinner space tango3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
elation;
erotic asphyxiation,
oxygen disappearing into
your favorite
vortex
then the moment was gone and
all the sunshine smothered
beneath your covers; bedsheets
soaked through with
sweat knotted
into a noose just my
style
and there you sit with
selective hearing never
fearing
my particles will one
day drift away down the drainpipes
to somewhere on
the other side of your
radical free matter consumption;
what have you destroyed of mine
that still i cannot see?
and will there ever be a day when
you will cease to captivate me?
the chains around my hearstrings are
as thin as fairy wings
.::.questions.::.i..::.questions.::.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you told me you believed in god
when i asked why, you said
"there've been situations where i should've died, but i didn't."
when i asked if you wanted to die,
you looked at me, then looked away and said,
"not anymore, i don't."
[i started crying when you said you wanted to die. you not existing anymore is still the most painful thing to think of.]
ii.
you told me i was the reason you were still alive
when i asked why, you said
&
pull a marilyni am not okay.pull a marilyn4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm trying to tell you that i could -
-
today could be the day i go off the deep end.
it seems like it's harder to breathe,
like maybe i can't keep doing this.
how long could one person go on like this,
living from one breath to the next
and trying to forget what oxygen tastes like?
pull a marilyn.
why the fuck not?
even she'd had more to live for.
the beauty you could murder,
so long as you had the right motive.
and if there was no beauty,
it was just waste and absence.
-
i am not okay.
i'm trying to tell you that i could die,
could roll over and think end and then nothing.
i'm not your wintergirl.you're looking for thei'm not your wintergirl.4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
seasons in this silence since
we've gotten too cold.
Chocolate ShoesUnderneath the treesChocolate Shoes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Deep in Rambley Woods
A little boy named Steven
Was handing out his goods
Kids from all around
Came to see the kid
Who had more sweets
Than their parents ever did
All kinds of lemonades
Pink and green and blue
He even sold a chocolate bar
Shaped much like a shoe
Yet Steven was a stranger
Even though he was a child
He hid a nasty secret
Even though his smile was mild
Every day at twelve o’clock
Stevey showed his true face
He was a hungry bloated troll
Who carried a blue mace
And with his deadly weapon
He crushed a child to goo
The he put them in an oven
To make a chocolate flavoured shoe
get out of bedi could never tell you how much i hate these bones, or how unhospitable my skin feels stretched over my face or across my ribs that are cracking from so many people trying to break in and every half-hearted breath.get out of bed3 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
i've never tried so hard to save someone like i've tried so hard to save you, even though you never deserved it. maybe i thought that if i could keep you from hating yourself for even a second, i could stop kicking myself when i'm down. maybe if i could press your wrists to your sides, i could stop from clawing at my own face. i've never forgiven myself for what i did, so i could never expect you to do what i could never manage.
drunkit's two am, or maybe it's four or six. i can't tell, there's no clock anywhere, i'm too drunk to know where my phone is or even judge how much time has passed, all i can tell is it's still dark, somehow.drunk4 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
a mike's hard lemonade, two round of beer pong, some jack daniel's and eight shots of brandy, i'm lucky trouble knowing how long i've been here is my biggest problem.
i don't know the boy passed out and snoring loudly next to me, and i wish i had a matress, or at least a fucking pillow, and i wish i wasn't this shit-faced and i wish i wasn't next to this stranger.
i'm trying to remember where all my friends are. i remember maura is asleep
We're not beautifulWe're not beautiful3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The color red reminds me of two summers ago when this whole story finally began.
You would stand outside my house and wait for me to notice you existed.
You made me cry because you took the time to listen when I didn't want you to see.
you wrote my name. You spoke my name.
Those were the days I believed I was magic.
Street lights remind me of times I was scared to death, running away from my house
at 3 am for a boy I wasn't sure was worth the risk.
You were afraid too, but I needed you to be stronger.
I followed behind you down the street as you played your guitar to sleeping houses
and a foolish girl.
Scattered rocks rem
FrequencyTell me why we keep repeating these useless clichés, likeFrequency3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around to hear it,
we want to hope for that tree's sake
as it's dying, at least it's making a noise;
but it's just sound waves,
like the waves of an ocean,
or anything, really, because everything is built on tides.
Even mathematical worlds like chemistry and electricity have this.
It's all come and go and light and energy and color,
and it's all got waves.
Even the science of fingertips is just touch and go.
We live on a planet pushed and pulled by it's own pet rock of a moon,
rolling around the gravitational leash of orbit.
Th
the elephant in my bed.oblivious to the constraints of time,the elephant in my bed.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
january snowflakes wooed the wind with their waltz:
one two-three, one two-three.
still naive, our footsteps
were not afraid to disturb
our glittering white universe.
wordlessly, questions were asked and answered
so quickly that we soon became
both the matador and the bull.
my door was painted red,
and we tangoed against Time itself,
a euphoric cacophony of beautiful maybes.
shoes toppled like domino tiles.
neighbors awoke with bleeding hearts.
keys lay abandoned in the door.
ivory tusks:
- i'm leaving in july.
salvation:
- tell me in june.
In Reverse13.In Reverse3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Jesus flew over the city today.
He cast a dark shadow upon our bleak and childish faces
and the now dark towers that surround us in the midst of this town.
I usually never notice his presence;
the yearly autumn rush mixed with the lingering summer sun overpowers him, fixing my focus to inhaling as much of those last sweet August scents as possible, knowing that as soon as we let go of them, we'll forget what they feel like
for twelve agonizing months. I know it should never be like that.
Such trivial things overpowering the shadow of God's son,
his breath lost in the smell of honeysuckle, his shadow in the early September sun
Elena's FaceLord, I tried.Elena's Face5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every piece of you that broke,
I glued it, sewed it, hoped.
My cheek ached
where yours was bruising like a peach,
withdrawing. Something taking you,
cell by cell, like a palace
dismantled by masterthieves.
You changed from coffee to white to green
and finally a shadow started settling
over you. Understand:
I couldn't leave you there,
where rats used your pelvis as a throne,
nursing their babies in your vellus hair.
Couldn't leave your fine lips to wither
and me a doctor.
Gentle, gentle with her.
The sun is up. Away.
the bitter things1. three months is a long time for something to be gone she says. three months is a long time to keep the bones in my back a secret and she would be the one to find them. she says they're structured like they're beautiful and maybe they are, but it makes me sickthe bitter things3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
2. i listened to her loving me and it would only make sense that i'd listen to her love him as well. it would only make sense that it would happen like this. i think about falling asleep while he's spitting breath all over you and it's not right, it's just not right. the saddest part of it is that i'm not mad because i love you, i'm mad because it's not fair that i couldn't have it.
her.her.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he told her:
i like how you put your hands on your waist
and tip your hips
to accentuate the precious curve of your back
and say 'come to bed.'
i like how you walk up the stairs
on the tips of your toes
like you're prepared to take off in flight
but possibly never come back
i like how you believe in luck
and running between the raindrops
and leaping through open doorways
and singing to the flowers
i like how you brush your hair
in the dim lit morning
and tell me of all your
last-night whimsical dreams
i like how you bite your cherry lips
and your fingernails and tongue
and how you sit with knees crossed
and bare foot bob
itching feet and sweet grassitching feet and sweet grass3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i could be a housewife if it was your house i was married to. (the house of your ears and chin and roman nose.) you could mow the grass and i'd admire you from the kitchen when you whispered to the horses things you'd never dream of whispering to me, and then i'd tell the horses things i'd often dream of telling you.
you'd be careful to treat me like a lady, even though i'm no lady. i'm 'just a scar or a ship or a spider or a woman with too much blood in her lips.' (said a boy when i told him tasting the breath behind his kiss made me feel like a lady with auburn hair and black pantyhose.) but i'd wear my crow-colored hair (ravens are pretty
cold things can love too.cold things can love too.3 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
i trace hearts on foggy windows
and tell you love is cold and fades away.
you trace hearts down my protruding spine
and tell me "no honey that's you."
shivers crawl through my skin as you hold me down,
your lips were sucking breath that was not there.
i am your puppet as you pull me across the splintered floor
and drag me into your arms,
(and i am not awake.)
because i am a lucid dreamer,
and you are a puppet master.
thoughts underwatershe watched bubbles slowly drift towards the surface as her body fell serenely to the ocean floor. her bones grew apathetic under her skin, and her mind grew somber as water filled her lungs. she watched the surface diminish until she shut her eyes tightly, letting an explosion of colour take over as she wasthoughts underwater4 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
thinking about the way
his eyes were certain and his hands were soft, out of the seven pieces he came up with the word suicide. and frankly he was in the lead already, as he put them on the scrabble board. it was like he knew the thoughts running through her head, and like he could see the scars through her sleeves. it would just kill h
pistol priesti want a dance that destroys the dancerpistol priest3 years ago in Open More Like This
as if he is wrapped in barbed wire and as he spins
he is gently shredded, unraveled like a piece of
yarn or a piece of clothe or a young smile
stopped at the corners of a mouth
as a bud. cut as he dances
i want air like a razor, a song like a knife
an imagination that limits heaven to a smile
imagine that as i dance my legs unravel
around you. around this silence
and religion people, like so many
beings i know. i want this dance.
i want it in me like a mountain
down by the roadway railway
in my churches vestibule
i place my hands on your head
and you fall down a foot
and your hair is
The Cloth of SleepThe cloth of sleep I'll make for you,The Cloth of Sleep3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I'll weave it with my own two hands,
out of the thread of dreamless rest
and thread of dreams that calm and bless.
A pattern I will draw myself,
upon the night so dark and fair;
I'll pin it to the cloth I made
and then I'll cut with skill and care.
A gown of sleep I'll sew for you,
it will be yours and yours alone,
to wear that you may put away
the worried fabric of the day.
When I have made this gift for you,
I'll send it to you in a song;
send back to me the news I seek,
that sleep was good, the night was long.
Sta.sh
