messages.it's twenty degrees outside, and when he breathes into the air, the smoke spells sex.
but not the loving kind, the kind where taking a shower just isn't enough to get the smell of him off of me.
he's all wrapped up into disney movie, magic shit. when i know that he is just some dirty subliminal message, and i'll get sucked in.(but i'll tell myself it's not my fault, because my sub-conscious should be more aware, and i'll pinch myself to make sure i'm sleeping.)
i know that's not right. (anything to keep me asleep)
if and when he holds my hand he squeezes 3 times, and that means "i love you." and i am aware that i should squeeze back 3 times because that is just courteous to do. but for some reason i squeeze once, and that just means, "okay."
(there is this part of me that wishes my subconscious could catch
watching you spin.you're a disco dancing, drama queen with dirty hair and the permanent smell of stale cigarettes. but god, are you beautiful, twisting and dancing under circular lights,watching you spin.7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
and vomiting when you're done.(acid does some crazy shit)
your hair was once blonde and beautiful like your eyes, but now it's laying in clumps almost everywhere, because you fucking pull out a strand whenever i'm around, i don't know why i do that to you.
but i never really ever offer to leave, either.
there's that one song that i always hear you listening to, it's the same old shit about love and loss and never being able to forget that special someone, i use to get mad at you for giving in to such conforming types of art.
but now i just let you go, because last time i actually made you cry.
"would you rather fly, or read minds?" i told you i'd rather read minds, and know what everyone thinks, because you can fly on a plane anyday, but no one ever thinks the same.
her.she is one hundred percent alone, minus him.her.7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
she has milk white skin, and jagged bones. her eyes are pale and soft, and could make you surrender under her breath (and they will.)
every night she goes to sleep with a man who touches her, and she feels sick. and she wishes he'd just leave the hair in her face.
(because it's easier to hide tears that way.)
she dreams at night.
her milky skin is spilling over unfamiliar fingers. the freckles on her back match the ones in his eyes, and she feels safe. she offers him her heart, and he closes it into a box.
(she wakes up feeling ninety nine percent alone.)
she's in a nightmare
lightening bolt eyes.he has lightening bolt eyes and one fucking killer smile.lightening bolt eyes.7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
let me introduce you to whom i call "fire-fly."
he has ice white skin and something about the way his hair falls that makes me wish mine would conform to such a beauty.
looking at you for so long makes me feel. Really feel.
he calls them fire-flies but i say lightening bugs.
fire burns hot against his skin, and i can feel the heat in his heart
but lightening bolt eyes can destroy you.
but god, it's so beautiful first, but only at first.
he calls me his "freckled girl" and i call him my heart
and he says that i shine underneath the sun
like it was made for me, and only me
but he has telescope eyes, and those can see to the stars.
he has razor blade hip bones and they stab into me while i dream
lightening bolt eyes and freckles like stars
and in my bed at midnight is the perfect galaxy
and for a second we make one constellation
still.one.still.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
(and sometimes, she swears she can smell her mother's sadness.)
when alice was little she remembers playing freeze tag with her mother. she remembers feeling anxious, and now she feels sick. "if daddy touches you, stay still, and don't make a sound."
william.dreams make him vomit.william.7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
he has spider-leg fingers and eyes so cold they could stop your heart.
(and they will.)
every night william goes to sleep knowing that someone else is waking up with his only friend, and he wishes he could brush the honey-stained hair from her cheek.
(not the man, who can't even spell love without cheating.)
william dreams at night.
his spider fingers are creeping up the jagged edge of her spine. her skin is the color of milk, and lightly freckled. william keeps her safe, and has made a tiny door, where he keeps her in his heart.
(he wakes up next to an empty pillow, with an empty feeling)
william writes a book in his nightmares.
she is in every chapter. her legs stretch across every page, and taunt him with sex, and things that spiders are not allowed to touch. she holds
12 : fuck"let's forget for a moment that love doesn't exist and rainbows don't last forever," he whispered, running his hand along the curve of her waist. she choked down a,"but i can't," and pulled him close to her. it's hard for her to remember that his heart doesn't beat for love when he kisses her collarbone and the smell of rainwater makes her dizzy.12 : fuck7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"i want you, ohgodiwantyou." and she couldn't help but hope that maybe he wanted her for more than one reason.
he called it
"fucking" and she whispered,
wanderlust.00. she was afraid if she held him for too long, shed lose this feeling the rise and collapse of weak lungs, butterflies numbing her brain and tricking her vowels into slurs, hearts flooding and spilling over into messy red and white pools of affection.wanderlust.7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
01. shes all eyelashes, splintered bones and eager dreams, while hes just newspaper print, rough lips and hopelessness. they met in the turbulent center of a hurricane, swept up in disaster and lost in the redorange flames of another blazing skyline.
02. forever was seven letters too many, three syllables too close to smothering him. words didnt matter to her anyway, shed much rather have his fingers rack her ribcage in the rhythm of could-be verbs and his cumulus eyes lock her into a cloudy state of moving and being, of acting and re-acting, of loving and being loved.
forever was whispered between inches of flesh and heat, between bedsheets and silk.
03. he hates even numbers and speaks in ru
ianeverything starts out blackian6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
but ian sees her in red.
ian is the kind of boy to breathe in pillow cases, and lay in the fetal position waiting for sleep to come, and the outcome doesn't surprise.
(it never comes the way he wants it to).
ian is colorblind in his dreams. he wakes up feeling anxious and restless, because he can't remember if her eyes are really green, or blue, or where the coffee stain is on her favorite yellow jacket.
(the left sleeve, he could never forget.)
ian is neutral. black hair, black eyes, pale skin. he doesn'
fair grading.rain rain you went awayfair grading.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
come back and flush me down the drain.
i sat in the middle of the road and my mind's in a drought
i've got the carcasses of words baking in harsh artificial light within me.
[i slur my words, but don't think it's because i've been drinking
i just don't know how to bring myself to say anything to you.]
we're walking down the street, puddles lit by street lights.
there are rainbows in the cement cracks, and your words are sparkling with magic.
'this is where dreams live,' you tell me.
'this is where dreams live.'
[if this is a dream, then i must be snow white, and not even your kiss can wake me up.]
twinkle twinkle little star
your explosion burnt my heart,
i'm collecting galaxies and dust in my jackets,
purely because she's no longer around to wear them when she gets cold.
i think my sinuses are extrapolating a long night from tissues, flaked into what i know
what i can't remember and what i can't forget.
we give our hearts suitcases
and tell them to just l
suicide is overrated.you traced my scarssuicide is overrated.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
some were raised, some caved in
and in my ear you whispered
'why do you do this to yourself?'
i thought it over for a long time.
'so no one else can.'
you have a
tattoo of a swallow
soaring up your wrist
you always told me you got it because
you could never fly.
you didn't need wings
to fly away from me.
you trail your fingers down my sides,
counting all of my ribs.
a curious look appear in your eyes,
and you murmered to me-
'you are not beautiful.'
i told you i knew that.
love is not the only thing i'm starving myself of.
truthless heroesHe lived in his own little world.truthless heroes7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She lived in the universe of people.
He liked to watch droplets of rain falling down to the ground, shattering into a million little pieces.
She liked to let the water soak through to her bones and jump in the puddles.
He liked green tea.
She liked strong coffee.
He whispered, "I love you."
She, though, loved only herself.
He said, "I won't let anyone take you away, ever."
She belonged to the whole world.
He kissed her thin scarlet lips.
She let him kiss them.
She told him, "I don't love you".
He couldn't do any better than "I know".
She wanted to love him more than anything.
He couldn't prevent it.
She knows she can't allow it.
She knows she has to be cruel to him - only for the sake of his sanity.
She knows it now, when the strings have tangled them both so tightly, they could either cut them up with a sharp razor, hurting them both, or give it another chance.The last chance to cast the metal shreddings into silk strings, tying their hands and hearts
and when the music stops. one.and when the music stops.7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
i tried to dance on the breath of time with you, but
i only ended up tripping.
i would've let you be the rocket if i would've been space.
[space is black, lonely, empty.
rockets are hopeful, beautiful. rockets are goingsomewhere.]
this is the shadow of a memory, the breath of a chance.
we could've spent the rainy days chasing the dreams in your heart.
and maybe, if we had more time, we could've looked into ourselves and thought of ourselves as a garden.
maybe then we would've realized that the weeds are there for a reason.
maybe then you would've believed me when i called you beautiful.
we put veils over the parts of ourselves we wanted to hide.
you breathed waterfalls and holes and explosions.
[as much as you loved beautiful things, you were best at destruction.]
i found comfort in your shadow, but your shadows never were very forgiving. i only managed to get lost, without a co
mertha.i like to seperate my thoughts into names, to keep them in order.mertha.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my lonliness is named mertha, and she'd like to meet you.
mertha sits by me on my bed and we draw pictures of tulips and snails and wonder when that math test was. she takes my hand and grips it slowly, while singing that song my mother use to sing when i was 4.
(and i wonder exactly how she knew the words.)
mertha walks with me in the rain and understands that i don't like to be asked questions in the morning. sometimes when i'm sitting in the bathtub with no running water she won't leave me alone, and mertha knows that she is unwelcome.
(but she stays because she knows i'll come back to her)
she hangs over my head when i'm getting dressed in the morning. mertha pulls on my flabby skin and reminds me t
dying stars.dear you,dying stars.7 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I know that the days are growing longer but the nights are growing colder, and I can see the shadows beneath your eyes. your skin is blemished and no matter how still you are, I see the technicolour wheels swirling behind your too-drowsy lids, brain working overtime, lips refusing to spill words of need and doubt. your breath falters more each day, dropping slowly like rain on an empty sidewalk, and I wonder if Im the only one who knows its there.
I watch you slip further down the drain.
I long to make you believe that I understand, that I get it. I was there too. I was there in the world of afterthoughts and ice-cold looks, where friends are just blood and bones, blood and bones. Ive lived where one day, your universe slips into night and you never seem to wake up, darkness embracing your arms, licking your fingertips. where youre just one star, about to combust.
did you know, that when stars die, it takes hundreds of year
ardor.all I can feel is this pulsing, the infinite beatingardor.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
inside my brain, under my palms, racing through my veins.
the music mixes with your heart sounds and all I care about is that
its like youre stealing the oxygen from my throat, like were
pressed tight enough that theres not enough air for the two of us,
and Im lost in the sound of your breathing.
(its too cliché to say you take my breath away.)
you burn into me and set my heart on fire, smoldering through layers of
flesh, capillaries and ventricles until you get to the very core, filling it with
fresh ashes and the spark that ignites everything.
the chemistry between us is unexplained and undeniable,
fireworks exploding into shimmers of passion and maybe, (just maybe) love.
you s-s-shake and shine and almost
Im tied up in the feel of your wrists and the curve of your
spine, and how youre ohsowrong but ohsoright
and note to jesus christ: being an
Thank You, Slater.Listen:Thank You, Slater.7 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I used to go to the nearby campus coffee shop in the early evenings, armed with a pen, a blank notebook, and writer's block. The sense of loneliness was unspoken but well accounted for.
I always shared coffee-counterspace with the same boy, who never smiled or talked and who had a penchant for bedhead and argyle sweaters. He liked to lean back on his stool, balancing precariously as he read novels, and I liked to pretend I wasn't watching him watch me. We coexisted in quiet companionship, thrived quietly under fluorescent lighting which sometimes caught his thick-framed glasses.
His novels changed while my notebook remained the same; his dogeared copies of The sound and the Fury and Animal Farm distracted me as I doodled stars on blank pages, waiting for something that could not be explained.
It was raining. I remember that. His glasses fogged up when he walked in, his tousled black hair dripped water on my elbow.
"Why don't you ever write in your notebook
soapstone heart.1.soapstone heart.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we were on and off, just like rain and light switches, and i thought maybe we had the same amount of electricity. i sometimes thought of telling you 'no', but my kisses said 'yes', and my heart just wouldn't learn how to shut down.
it pissed me off.
i pretended i didn't know your name and asked you to whisper it in my ear, just to be the only one to hear your voice. i'm selfish, but i think you already know that.
(if i could make a lasso made of gravity, i'd pull the stars down and take them. i promise i'd share with you.)
you gave me a necklace that you carved from soap stone, and i couldn't tell if it was an arrowhead or a heart.
i decided it was a heart, and wondered if yours was made of the same thing.
"you are my everything," you whispered. i really thought i believed you. no wait, i actually did.
i remember finding scraps of paper in my desk with little poems on them, all signed by you. but it wasn't until later that i found out you had google'd them. it wasn't until
your personal geography.You killed every one of my dreams. They were fragile and required deep digging, but you dug deep enough to find a way.your personal geography.7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
(Haven't you thought that by breaking every single one, you must have killed yourself multiple times?)
You didn't quite adore all the cracks on my heart, so you took it to lost-and-found. You labeled it lovely - "broken things are beautiful" was your anthem. Me, I didn't see it as beautiful.
(Just throw it out, no one could ever be interested in such an ugly hollow organ.)
Definition of a loser: someone who does not win. You used to say I won at losing, maybe to make seem less discouraging.
(So did I win or lose? No, I couldn't win. Not even at loosing.)
I once asked you to tell me the latitude and longitude of your love. You locked me out of the room while you were trying to figure it out.
(But you never did find the component needed before taking any measurements.)
escapei ask myself why my angel wings haven't grown back. and i wonder if yours are just invisible.escape7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but i know that seeing me will only make yours disappear, and you really should leave.
(i'll come back sooner or later.)
you tell me all these wonderful things about me. and how you won't disappear.
"i'm here for you," you say.
but all i can think of is, 'don't.'
because, really. we both know i don't deserve it.
you'll come and hug me, and i'll stand there with my arms at my sides. i hate seeing you cry.
i just don't know what to do with love anymore.
so please wait, until i can figure out which emotion fits where.
(i just know sadness doesn't fit into my blood stream. and love doesn't belong inside the back pocket of my jeans.)
i never knew that escaping would be something i would wish to acheive. i want to lay on the tops of trains and sleep under the stars. i want to bring my all my paint brushes and canvases with me, an
nightmares.i. theres only so much you can say untilnightmares.7 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
the folding bicycledear someone,the folding bicycle7 years ago in Scraps More Like This
take a breath, take
a step back, take my
hand, and take me with you.
there's such a thing of being satisfied with
where you are in life. i wish you tried it instead of
filling your head with sky-drawn wishes,
i wish you didn't have potential.
i hope to God that i forget your name for
one second of my life, which is the name of
this 'existing' thing i do when you're not around.
if my brain could erase eight letters, if the
waves could break around them, your name
would be as memorable as the man who invented
the folding bicycle.
i'm tripping all over my own two feet on my way to the
mailbox, and this is fourth letter i've sent you.
i'm sabotaging myself the second i let the envelope
slip from between my finger and thumb. i've neglected
yet again to put a postage stamp on this letter.
also, i probably shouldn't have addressed this to
'you' and wrote the sender as 'me.'
i want to be just like you, i want to be so lofty-
monotony.we went to vegas. you drove and i pressed myself against the side of the door and breathed out pictures onto your window. you planned to make it big, and i planned to make it a memory. i fell asleep through the city of lights, and it was then i decided that christmas didn't feel the same, and your hands were always cold, even through your gloves.monotony.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i sat on the hotel bed and thought of how many people sat exactly where i was. you were in the bathroom buttoning up your shirt. i clenched mine so tightly closed my back pressed through the fabric. this was when i decided this is what suffocating was like. you were talking to me but i only remember the crying of a girl in the next room, here is where i considered the fact, that i just can't cry anymore.
i told you i feel my flesh tighten when i wear dresses, but you insisted. you hit the elevator button and as the door closes, my stomach sinks. i study the man next to me and wonder if he slept through the drive here. it's then that i decide t
counting angelsi.counting angels7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your eyes are worth more than all the orange sunsets, twenty million crystalline planets, and seventy tangled butterflies. If only i could do it without harming you, I'd put them in a glass jar and save them for later, when I'm sad, to remind me that at least you're still beautiful.
Your heart is woven from melancholy lullabies, diamond orchids and flamingo-pink fireworks. Only mine is a little bit barbed-wired, but if we ever collapsed, the birds of your inside would untangle it and make it bloom and sparkle and burst into shards of sunshine.
Your smile makes the sun hide in shame, or maybe I just can't see it when you crack your scarlet lips into that lovely crooked crescent, your dimples dancing rounds like speckles of rainbow in a dark room. Maybe it's just me, but when that perfect half-smile isn't there, you make me want to fix the world so that it doesn't hurt you anymore.
Maybe I love you too much.