existentialism in heaven1. First, we have a lesson in breathing.existentialism in heaven6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
(I stutter, and in the back of my head there is a slide and small children are slipping down and losing their lungs, tucking under inside of them, and I came around afterwards and picked up all their organs and buried them inside the tanbark, hid them away in a little box that only I will have, every thought they expelled with their breath and would've liked to keep, and I press my fingers down and they are gathered around me and they say st-st-stutter with their necks like paper cranes for hope and peace and a hopeful mouth. They do not love me.)
She opens up my mouth, peeling back the ridges of my lips with her claws, and she looks inside and peers into some sort of mess and she says I can't sort through this with my hands alone, I can't, and she closes it up and says no, no, that will not do. And she holds her palms against my stomach like twin suns framing my belly-button with her rabbit-colored thumbs and she peers into the hole and wrinkle
Quotes 41. I never doubted you; I just doubted your love for me.Quotes 47 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
2. Something taught me that I have to move on like the rest of the world is and to stop living on a bunch of old yesterdays.
3. Your heart is completely cold, and now I am wondering how I ever though you were capable of love.
4. I guess we were the dreamers that became lost in their own dreams.
5. I wish I could write my name all over you and say your mine.
6. Never regret a moment that made you happy.
7. Laughter, some say that was my cure, but we both know it was you.
8. Falling in love, or falling apart?
9. Youre my miracle without you there would be no tomorrow.
10. If happiness was a gift I would it to you.
SadnessIt hurts you. The pain.Sadness11 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
You want it to go away.
Sadness. Please. Don't stay.
Think about lifeThink about life4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Think about how the beauty of life???
How in the life of the tragedy and how the wounds .... As the joy that grief divide us part ....
When judging the pot and lose a loved one dies the world and left without saying good bye ... no .. not even the memories of it goes consolation ...
Forever like the imagination and we can not imagine again ...
What to do ...??
Do you cry ...??
Do you complain about ...??
The complaint about what we tell ...??
I see a lot of grief when people submit tears on the cheek and removes the smile from the world ... and as if the grief of his life will bring ...
Many of the people Death himself and his life stands for the paradox of a loved one ...
Why do not we see this world in a positive ... why do not judge before he understands the mind of conscience ....
Why not make the sadness in your part does not mention?? To shed a tear ..... what make us laugh .. entertains us and makes us laugh ...
Let us always remember that this world is not our end ... to rememb
O' SisterStart with something, whether it be words or thought or action. Just do something, anything to avoid this dissipating grey matter, neurotic erosion.O' Sister3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I don't exactly remember everything." My words are timid, pensive.
The moments revolve, coil and ignite; flashing images with no particular order.
I scrunch my iceman toes, attempting to conserve heat, but the cold still surpasses the fabric of my Converse. My muscles tense against abrasive arctic gusts. The bitter wind raises bristled hair above goose bumped flesh.
These pink fingers quiver in the grasp of an 'I heart New York" shot glass. I guzzle down Stolichnaya. The vodka is dry-ice against my tongue; molten silver.
Blurred peripherals detect a lone ember drowning in the ashtray, a Marlboro Smooth choking beneath garish glares of moonlight.
"And this kinda s
ObsessionObsession6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He wanted to be too close,
knitting her flesh
into fresh woolen dreams,
and leave his thumb prints
on the skin that spanned her hips;
to feel her thoughts
before she even sensed them,
tasting the smile
that she nursed like a cool summer drink.
He wanted to undress her with his careful hands,
feeling his name drop
like an oath from her lips
in a dark room,
and make her limbs ache;
to numb her breath
and teach her words
that would turn the still air sultry
making the night blister
like unquenched summer.
the trouble isi'd like life to bethe trouble is2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
quiet and lovely
like distant church-bells
chiming through snow,
muted by the smell of
an old book and the
feel of a fire warming
me into my chair, and
a mug of tea, steeping
the moment in hushed
gratitude, easily in reach.
notes to self4:58AM 02/04/09notes to self6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her tongue was
a pink poison placebo
crosses look just
as silly to me!
the sun is
trying to kill me
I would rather starve
than suck Hallmark's
dick for cheeseburgers.
just quit writing
asshole; you suck.
the campus security
guard looks like walt
sweat yourself old.
stepping on fairies'
tails 'til the
how do you
More Haikus for LoversMore Haikus for Lovers6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The little tattoo
resting below your navel
Your kisses tremble
like petals on the spring breeze
covering my face.
Your eyebrow arches
just like the rise of your hips
when my hands claim you.
my hands slide under your hips
Neon MonstersI stretch my hand out into the light of the setting sun just to watch it turn my skin gold, because it makes me think I might be worth something.Neon Monsters6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I write things on my wrists, right over the veins that are really tiny blue trees tangled up in my flesh. Im hoping the ink will carry the words when it sinks through my skin and theyll get stuck in those blue branches so I can always reach under my skin and grab them.
Im fascinated by heartbeats and the spaces between them.
Ive always been afraid to listen though, in case the silence swallows the beats and stretches into forever beneath my ear.
I always found it some sort of unfair that the beats can stop for good but not the silences.
I wont leave windows open at night because I know in the back of my mind that everyone is wrong and monsters do exist. Some night Ill find one behind the shuddering curtains, eyes glowing and claws clacking.
[And itll look just like me.]
Then, of course, I
BIRDIf I regret anything, it is the reticence of birds--BIRD5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my reticence, the uncertainty of the word "today,"
which rusts like the flute before Judith one.
If there is a time to undress, it is now,
but my thoughts close in on me, like a tunnel,
and I lose sight of everything except the wind.
Beneath it all, my hollow bones
are icy blue, each joy expunged--
I feel it keenly, here, and there.
do you remember...i rememberdo you remember...i remember5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
DO YOU REMEMBER- I REMEMBER
Do you remember?
I remember the way we used to be so close
flesh upon blood, blood upon skin
are hearts melted together, that in which made us kin
Do you remember that old house we used to have?
the one with the rusted old club house that we made
Do you remember when i couldnt get into our yard, so i cried
tears upon tears, a bounty a lot
and you were the only one, that gave a second thought
the bucket upon bucket fights of snow,
the way the cold winter wind did blow
Do you remember,
your face covered so white
as fluffy white snowflakes, came billowing down on you in one descend?
but do you?
Now the years have passed by, mind you, and so you might forget
but i no something, i no something, you bet
you cant forget everything, for the past is your now
looking back at it all, we've come so far, its hard to begin
shh... i hear the wind..listen closely...
it says to me....
Do you remember?
I remember the running,
the slapping of
Grains of Red Sand pt1Grains of Red Sand pt14 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"This inexplicable torture had not only torn my body to shreds, but my mind as well. I felt no part of my former self in what I had become, after all the pain had quelled."
Grains of Red Sand
Sand; I felt its grit in my mouth, crunching as I clamped my jaw shut. I felt it packed between the glossy shell and the pink under tissue of my fingernails. It was speckling my black hair, like beige dandruff.
I was laying in it, though I can't seem to recall why. The sky was dark, and I could hear the lapping of waves upon rocks. I was near the ocean. I flipped over onto my back and dragged my arms through the sand, making an angel. It felt nice; the billions of tiny grains brushing against my skin simultaneously.
Everything was still; the placid waters created a rhythmic white noise, lulling me to a state of sleep. I was completely at ease, completely oblivious to the concerns that should have been gnawing at my mind; such as how I had come to be here and where exactly here was.
Out on the table.Out on the table.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I just gotta put this out there.
I'm gonna admit all these things, because I can't be afraid anymore.
Yeah, I wanted to make a milkshake without waking up Dad,
so I took the blender into my bedroom. It's still sitting there.
I am a chocoholic, and yes, I do eat all the M&Ms you hide around the house.
I eat just about anything else with chocolate too.
I know this disappoints you, and you think I'm just gonna keep getting fat. I'm sure I will. I'm not very athletic, even though I try.
You remember a few years ago when you asked if I liked a certain person, and I said no? That was a lie. I wish I had simply stated the truth. Maybe admitting it to you would have given me the courage to admit it to him. Look at me now.
I don't think I will ever make the bed of my own accord. Even when (and if) I am married.
I rarely feel pretty. People can tell me they think I'm pretty, and I can blush for a second. But I only share the pretty parts of me. I can be pretty dang ugly. And not just physically.
WordsWords6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She wanted words
written just for her -
that would spread her out
across a canopied bed
and make love to her
in ways no man could
that would trail
up the pale perfection
of her thighs
and bind her wrists
that would kiss
the arch and thrust
of her hips
caught like birds in flight
and roll her tongue in silk
that would rush the dark
night from the windows
and breathe her heart
The Ocean Smells Of DecayI am washed up carrion,The Ocean Smells Of Decay5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on plastic sand beaches.
Sea urchins eat away
at my cardiac muscle,
hermit crabs find shelter
amongst my flesh.
The salt brine has me tasting of
tears and high-blood pressure,
Seagulls are regurgitating me in chunks.
Not the urchins,
they liquefy my filth
the clawed-hermits live within
from my rotted tissue.
I smell like low-tide
and smoothed over
pieces of glass,
stranded with me.
Dawn reveals the stench
of my dissipation,
and I find
The Harlot, the Whore, and ISolidness, yes, I will reach for it, because if I do not hold these sand deserts into stone, who will?The Harlot, the Whore, and I4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Say it once more, forsake me in whispers. Fork-tongued murder spewing from platonic back-stabs. Yes best-friend, I'm talking to you. Shhh.... speak not of your austere heart, the visciousness impersonating affection.
My nerves are but lightning bolts, sputters of static disjointing through uninterrupted sky. Betrayal inflicted as a glittering, feeling sparked with flame and intention.
An attempt to accept sensation pulsed through neuron,
but !! NO !! I do not require such frivilous attachment to skin.
Hush now little beggar-lipped liar, Kings don't speak with thieves, and you are by far too tainted to take seriously.
Your pride; my amusement.
You call this alive?
I pleaded to no longer see you, and I told you, I told you.
Autopsy Confessions I must have a dense sense of autopsy because I never could feel the scalpels, and before you know it, I was rendered gutless.Autopsy Confessions4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Who's to say the novicane was responsible? Dirty syringes were the least of my problems.
I was considering the possibility of cadaver DNA when surgical steel spread across my naval, splitting my milky virgin-skin, and revealing the wastes of this carrion rib-cage. Scalpels sink into the spiderweb tissue and I find I am numb to this metal intrusion. Rancid nerves ignorant to the spark of knife on flesh.
The sterile aumbiance of bleach white lights illuminate my disgusting chest cavity and I blush embarrassment for this lack of feeling. I apologize for the cobwebs between my bones, and the spiders searching for insects of decay. Fortunately for them and you, and this autopsy table