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."
her.she is one hundred percent alone, minus him.her.6 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
william.dreams make him vomit.william.6 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
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.6 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.
lightening bolt eyes.he has lightening bolt eyes and one fucking killer smile.lightening bolt eyes.6 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
bipolar hearts.we use to watch Fight Club together, because she said that it made her feel a little less alone, and i could never reply so i held her in my lap.bipolar hearts.6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
and she told me she was kalea's dizzy mind.
and in real life, you would think nothing of anything really, because she watches the birds fly just like you do. the morning rises on the same side of her window, and she can watch the clock tick away hours, just like you.
and she told me she was kalea's spinal cord.
i watched her pick at her fingernails for too long, and always decided i would leave as soon as they started bleeding. her arms are full of scars where she thought she felt something crawling up her skin, only to find she was still alone. i told her i was here, but she turned over(and i can still hear her uneven breathing)
and she told me she was <i>
charlotte.it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child.charlotte.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)
when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet.
(and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)
charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.
(because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.
charlotte's first b
messages.it's twenty degrees outside, and when he breathes into the air, the smoke spells sex.messages.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
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
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'
mertha.i like to seperate my thoughts into names, to keep them in order.mertha.5 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
annie.annie paints the end of her erasers red, so every time she erases something, it reminds her she is made of mistakes.annie.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and her mother would be proud, really.
annie has long fawn legs and can't remember the last time she actually drank a glass of water. the feeling of being dehydrated reminds her that she can in fact feel, and her father spends too much time away from home.
and her mother re-named herself "alone."
when she was six they found out she was dyslexic. her father told her she just couldn't see things right. annie went home and stared into the lamp light until her pupils dialated and tears ran down her face.
and everytime she spelled "love" it came out as "unknown."
annie has an uneven heartbeat, and when she holds her breath everything turns black, and silent,
hematophilia"did you crawl in through the hole in the fence again?"hematophilia6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"then why are your knees muddy? and your elbows scraped?"
"because i saw a dog get run over on the highway by an eighteen-wheeler last night."
"yeah. i saw its guts unravel like streamers, like those snakes-in-a-can."
"yeah. there was so much blood; i rolled around in it, and it smelled like dirt and pennies."
"yeah. it's stuck under my fingernails, too. i can't fucking get rid of it."
"is that from rolling in it?"
"no; i scooped some up and put it in an empty vodka bottle so i could paint with it later."
"why'd you have an alcohol container in your car?"
"i forgot to throw it when i was at the redemption centre."
"that's for your anger management, right?"
"you'd paint with a dying dog's blood?"
"dead, not dying. and it was this really great shade of red that you just can't make with acrylics."
"how about watercolours?"
"i fucking hate watercolours."
"oils take foreve
silencewhat i am thinking when we fall into silence:silence6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
i like your meninges, i say, i like how they guard your brain like they are the secret service, i like them and how they're water-plugged scars. and you never like what i like, but i like you even more.
i like the shape of your mouth, and it embarrasses me greatly to admit it to myself, and i want to tell you oh-so-badly, but i have put enough words in my own that i would fall in on myself like a poorly-constructed factory.
i will tell you until my mouth runs dry and saliva strings crystalise and my lips crack, this is not what you want. i am this, you are that, i am some form of a broken bird that forgets what flying is, and falls out of the sky. i would say this, except i am sure you feel that i am what you are- you are a bird with feathers invisible, feathers infinite, feathers astounding. i would say this, except i don't want you to fly away.
i would like to twist my body into letters to spell things out for you.
i've got to crawl into
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
and when the music stops. one.and when the music stops.6 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
don't bend too far.keep breathing,don't bend too far.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they tell you, but
you are tracing your self-inflicted scars,
lit up by moonlight. you are dancing recklessly,
eyes closed, waiting to collide with something, anything. you are
closed ears, icy blood, darkened dreams,
almost-broken lungs, and they say
keep breathing, keep
you have no time to listen
to things you don't understand.
horror stories seem much brighter at night,
and hope fades in comparison. see, you have
glass running through your veins, waiting
to pierce your heart, running faster and faster
until they collide with your lungs, and
you can't breathe.
you are killing yourself, slowly,
with too-much-depression and
you look to memories for comfort,
thinking you might find hope
in them, but
you can't remember things
that never existed.
unconsciousmy sheets would not fit on my bed.unconscious6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
in my sleep, you rest your head
on my shoulder
and it's comfortably awkward,
realistic in just the way boxes
but rectangular prisms.
i dream of spiders crawling on my
sheets and pulling out your eyes.
i have fifty headaches today,
fifty raps on my softened skull.
i am a tiger,
striped and stripped and filled to the lips
with jealous bile or blood.
the rain sounds like thunder,
the thunder, an earthquake.
i swear i love like head trauma-
crowbar to the cranium,
blow to the brain,
and i just can't imagine
you wanting to hold me.
someday.i. i will alwayssomeday.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
be waiting for my
(would you like
to wait with
giving up and
sound awfully nice.
(you are the reason why
iii. i believe that words
can paint rainbow
sunsets and rivers and
happiness and golden
skies and things full
(im still trying to figure out
iv. writing non-fiction
makes me feel horribly
for everyone to realize
im nothing special.)
v. i dont want
to anyone. i
only want to be
mine. i only want
(i like to pretend
roamin'i named him charlie.roamin'6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
charlie was the sort to sit on the concrete rather than the bench three feet away because it was ironic, his guitar case under his shoes and a cardboard sign on his lap that read, "roamin'." charlie was maybe twenty, with too many deceased train tickets and copper-plated coins turning in his jeans. i would bet the contents of his pockets that he couldn't remember where his hometown was anymore, what his mother's face looked like, or why he left.
i wanted him to hold his sign the other way, i wanted to see if there were more permanent-marker words scrawled on the back. i wanted it to say, 'drive me somewhere,' or 'take me to the west coast, take me back east.'
i wanted to drop my shopping bags and throw open my passenger door and tell him to jump in. his guitar case would go in the backseats and he'd kick his feet up on the dashboard and leave muddy traction prints along it.
i'd tell him to empty his pockets, see what he's got, make him chip in for gas money. i'd dr
falling sickness.one.falling sickness.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
he reminded you of comets colliding and holding your breath underwater and bedtime stories. he was your rainbow, your sunny sky, your ledge to hold onto and the song you fell asleep listening to each night.
you couldn't get him out of your head.
you didn't even want to.
there was no choice, no other option. there was nothing - nothing but him and the promises in his eyes and the whispers from his lips.
there was nothing but falling.
he made you smile, made you laugh, made you want to live again. the two of you would go to the park just to watch the shadows chase each other on the ground. he'd hold your hand and tell you pretty words, and you believed every one of them.
his breath was like autumn wind, soft and sweet, and he was the only thing that would chase your nightmares away.
you didn't realize that he was the nightmare.
he was the water and salty tears. he was the waves, pulling you under, begging you to surrender. he was the sweet breeze hiding the terror
roadsigns.i.roadsigns.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have searched maps, road signs,
songs, hearts. i have opened my eyes
and my hands to the rain, fairytales
singing in my ears. i have closed my eyes
and let my nightmares and demons
find me, i have
screamed on the insides, heart
barely beating. i have dreamed
of my own destruction, whispered
into the silence, prayed for the answer -
could i ask you for one last favor?
when you're sad, remember the way
i would hug you. when you're laughing,
remember that my laughter doesn't sound
the same without yours. when you're lonely,
remember that i tried to fill your empty spaces. remember
that i'd fall for you if it saved you from the
scratches, remember the color of my eyes,
remember the sound of my breathing. remember
the good and the bad, remember the secrets
and the inside jokes and the songs we listened to.
remember all the things we understood
without ever saying, remember
that i love you.
i have forgotten how to fall asleep
without the pitter-patter o
sunday thoughtsyou are glowbraceletssunday thoughts6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and fireflies and oatmeal raisin cookies.
you are thunderstorms
and comic books and afternoons on the bleachers.
you are constellations
and crinkled denim and nights spent on the park bridge.
you are the best thing
i could ever hope for and i love you more than should be allowed.
a letter for the lonelywhy am i writing you words with no meaning,a letter for the lonely6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
knotted up in a pretty little bag with no meaning,
tied with a bow with no meaning,
sealed with a kiss with no meaning,
why do you have no meaning?
i don't know,
i don't know.
the trees have pulses, it's why
their leaves have veins-
i may have gotten a d in natural science,
but i got a b-plus in biology
and i'm not stupid enough
to think that a being with veins doesn't have a heartbeat.
trees have just so many arms outstretched
and nobody ever
hugs the elm tree with
a thousand arms and i give it,
the dying one on the corner of my street,
a hug though i hate hugs
and i only let go
when i feel its heart
the medulla oblongata
regulates the heartbeat,
isn't that funny? i think it's funny that
the brain talks to
the heart at all- i feel love,
and you feel nothing,
you use your nerves and fucking frontal cortex
to use logic and
sunshine.before, she would look at the stars and wonder if her someone was out there, somewhere, looking at the same ones. she'd dream of magic and flying and wishes that come true. she'd say tomorrow will be better, tomorrow will be better. and she hoped it would be.sunshine.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
silence didn't scare her back then. see, she was too busy looking at the clouds and comets to worry about the imperfections and the dangers of flying.
open doors didn't remind her of people leaving. they just reminded her of chances, risks worth taking. her heart sang a lullaby filled of hope and happiness and learning how to stand again, learning how to breathe. her heart still knew how to breathe back then.
and when it rained, she would close her eyes and imagine it was a beautiful poem filled of fairytale happiness and promises that no one would ever break.
now, she just closes her eyes and wishes it would go away. now, she wishes the silences wouldn't drag on because maybe then her thoughts wouldn't suffocate her. s
Touch my bonesLight is slipping in through the blinds and making slits in the darkness of my bedroom. Beside me, you dream of cliffs, mountains, trees, lakes, and wider skieseverything in gem tones, clean, and vast. I listen as you breathethe slow and regular pattern of sleepand run my hand across your chest. Your skin carries stories in braille about your soul. They tell me that you are afraid of the unknown, and death, and of drowning. When you were young, you wished that you could fly, but now you wish you could disappear. Sometimes, when it is brightest out, you stare into the sun and let the light blind you. You feel at peace when you think of emptiness.Touch my bones7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I am afraid of failure, I whisper in your ear. I wish I was a hundred times larger so that people would take notice. I could do so much more. I am tired of being ignored. I cannot stand to be alone.
I have missed you terribly.
I whisper these things in your ear, and catch our collective secrets