I want more to be said to meTell me about your mother, tell me about the time you lived in that run down apartment and you met a girl named Emily with pretty lips and a salty mouth. Remember fucking her against a dead oak tree in the woods down the street from your mother's work. Tell me about the stale bark and how it spit crimson and wax all down her back...hot and sticky. It made her shake, shift, squirm, and all that did was make your eager body push harder. It made her shirt stick to her hell bitten back and you only noticed when she gasped as you slid your fingers down her spine while walking a half mile back to your mother's work. When she sat down she crossed her scraped and chapped legs (the forest floors aren't forgiving when lovers run.) and you could see the burning in the way she bit her bottom lip til' it bled. Just another crimson stain for your list. she can't breathe though, and your eager body and sprinting feet live in her til' this day. Tell me about moving away a few days later and how
This will destroy you."We are running away from home, and who we are, and your skin is meeting me at the edges where we tear our seams apart like ribbons waiting to be pasted onto some portrait, but what we're doing isn't going to make something beautiful. It's just tearing us apart, and I wanted to tell you that I'm not doing it anymore, but your lips slid into that scar I told you about, and I felt the edges creak and everything inside of me ached to be torn. But you-you, we- can't we just be okay?"This will destroy you.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"I know what it's like to want to stop, and grace yourself with blush and hope you look okay, and miss your skin, and press it to someone. But our skin isn't meant to blush or breathe, it is meant to break and blemish. We are swimming in ourselves, and our skin is holding all that in, but we need to flood each other and so we tear, and tear, because the ribbons let you out. They let you out. Would you rather bloat?"
"My visions of your face are blurred and I miss the skin on your hips because it hurts too fuck
Break night in your bed.I am tearing apart my bed and wondering if maybe just maybe I dropped a pill a week ago and didn't realize it didn't hit the target intended. 'They're so small and so simple, so of course they slip easily and hide effectively.' they're more vital then the blood in your veins and more punctual then the hunger in your stomach. The vomit in my throat rattles my head and my eyes are bloodshot because I can't sleep. My prescription expired a week ago, but the pain isn't gone. Fuck, I need a hit of the black rock, but fuck I'll settle for a pill that makes my body evaporate.Break night in your bed.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Robby is in my head again and my stomach hurts. He is sun dried and tired of living inside of me (or at least that's an excuse to get ready of my body). If my body disappears maybe he can go and maybe just maybe God will shake his hand or maybe I'm just shit out of luck.
Well maybe narcotics are better than staring at the back of my blistered hands and seeing a flashing image of the back of his head. Because I'm s
Patchouli GirlOn her front porch she had one of those little wooden step stools covered in potted flowers and various ceramic animals a frog, a squirrel, a giant ladybug. It struck me as strange, something my dead grandmother would have had on her front porch. It was definitely not the porch I had pictured as belonging to my first one night stand.Patchouli Girl5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was a step behind her as she fumbled with her keys. I had been drinking, too much. Probably. All evening I had chewed on my fingernails, hoping the Captain and coke would give me the courage to deliver the witty, flirty lines I had rehearsed in my mind all week. I'm fairly sure it didn't work.
The door was red, and I thought again of my dead grandmother the horrid crimson sweater she knitted for me one Christmas, the one I had felt obligated to wear every December until the funeral. I think everyone has a horrid crimson sweater from their grandmother.
It seemed forever to me that she fumbled with her bulky keys, laughing and shooting me fli
This Time It's to Me...Just because he's your newly discovered twin brother, doesn't mean he won't be gone in a few months, unexpectedly and without a goodbye. Or a memory of the last time you saw him. Don't spend forever trying not to forget. I'm still working on that one. I just wanted to let you know, because it almost killed me Which means it will almost kill you, too. Don't let it. Skip class to be with him, play Wink in the rain. It's so much fun. Remember to have fun.This Time It's to Me...5 years ago in Letters More Like This
Don't cry over those girls. The one you're with now, or the one you'll be with in a couple months. They both end up leaving you, but it all works out, and they happen to be your best friends, still, years later. There's another girl, though, and this one you really love. You've been dreaming of her for years, and knew she'd never be yours.
You get her in the end, don't worry. She's yours for life. When you get there, send her flowers and hold her hand. Tell her that you love her all the time, and that she's beautiful. Maybe someday
let the sky be lost.you and i,let the sky be lost.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we're not cut-outs from a story-book.
not misshaped and deformed pieces
of a broken star, unable to burst into
you're just the truth.
'i'm not telling you i love you
if i don't mean it. i hate when people
do that. they don't know what it
'so you won't say it?'
'no, i won't. not yet. not until i do.'
'that's good,' i smile a bit.
'no, you don't get it.'
'i don't think i do.'
'telling someone you love them when you
don't is like going to a tea party dressed
up in a ball gown: overdoing it. and nobody
cares. only the person in the gown cares.
all it does is make things seem pathetic
even before it starts. stupid fags who do
that have no idea what love is'
something like a pause ensued.
'oh,' i half-murmur, wanting to keep repeating
that one irrelevant sound.
'but one day, i will. with all my heart.'
it's like i'm terrified of your words, maybe.
the truth can hurt sometimes. but it's all
for the best.
'thanks for t
I want you to be a strangerI want you to be a strangerI want you to be a stranger5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
So I could meet you again
I would say 'you look gorgeous'
I would ask your name
I would smile
You would smile back
I would ask you to dance
And we would dance to the music
I would offer you a drink
And we would be drunk together
You would walk me home
And you would kiss me
I would ask you to come in
And you wouldn't doubt a minute
I would walk to my room whit you
We could get naked and sleep together
I want you to be a stranger
So we could meet again
And fall in love with you
I would say I saw in your eyes you were perfect
And you would fall in love with me
I want you to be a stranger
Now you only talk about our messed-up relationship
I want you to be a stranger
So I could ignore you
Missing YouI miss you more than I'd ever thought possibleMissing You5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
though maybe that's because I never thought I'd lose you.
I've dreamt of us growing up together,
one of those "happily ever after" endings
that never really ends
mostly because I don't want you to be gone,
and admitting that you are only makes it more true.
In my mind you're on vacation, the best, the happiest,
though I sometimes wonder why you didn't bring me along
and I have to remind myself that you just had to be
I still dream of us being together someday,
and when I awake it's still getting easier
to realize that it was just a dream, and that you can't
ever come back, but that's just one of those thoughts
that won't register.
And I still miss you, it isn't getting better like they said it would
I'm running out of things to occupy my time with
and thoughts of you are constantly flooding back,
as much as I pretend to try getting rid of them I swear
you do this on purpose, and I miss you terribly, and I wonder
if I will be stuck f
Sleepless DreamingBlack. No, blacker than black...Sleepless Dreaming5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Is that possible? Yeah.
The night is silent, like it always seems to be out here. Out here in the middle of nowhere. Out here where not even the sun finds me until half-past noon. Desolate wasteland of my childhood, trapping me in its quicksand pits until the day I turn eighteen. So long. So long from now...
I've given up hoping to figure it out. Staring up above me at the dusty rafters has become more than a habit; it's a routine, a ritual, a comfort. I don't know what keeps me awake at these hours. These hours when even the prairie animals and "monsters" of the sand are sleeping tightly. I, a mere human, cannot find the trance I desire.
Utter stillness is around me, and I concentrate on it. If I try hard enough, I might be able to melt into nonexistance, where at least there would be eternal dark and still and quiet, I'm certain.
The intense concentration doesn't last long; I'm too fickle of a person. Who was I trying to kid, anyway? I'm
First AidI'm broken.First Aid5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I think maybe I'm fixable, but that's just me and my opinion. [that was never very clear anyway.]
I'm not sure what, exactly, broke me; it could have been everything, and it could have been nothing. I can never tell how strong my ground lines are until they're gone. And, now, they're completely frayed and blown away, and there's nothing left to say "hey, look at how far you've come; you braved half the storm," so I wonder if I'm worth anything at all, and no one's here to answer that God-awful question.
Know what's broken? My tear-production gland. I've been given ample reasons to have crystaline droplets spilling over from my eyes, and yet there are none. None. Not one.
Though, crying has never got me very far in life, anyway. The most I got was a severe look from my mother and a "oh, grow up, this is ridiculous. you're fine, so stop being overly dramatic, girl." She never was one to put up with tears; she wasn't cruel, she just couldn't handle them.
I was taught, f
fairytales.she doesn't believe in happy endings that last through eternity. sure, there are times where she thinks it's going to end amidst a wild rainfall of white petals and a carriage carrying her and her beloved towards the horizon where the sun was setting. but those exist only in fairytales.fairytales.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the real world, there's infatuation and crushes, whirlwind romances and pure lust. in the real world, you love with a slight voice in the back of your mind telling you that it's going to all come crashing down someday, and you better be prepared for it.
but even though forevers aren't real, there's always right here, right now, and as her heart leaps into her throat and her eyelids flutter involuntarily, she knows that he is here and now, and the burning set of eyes combined with the messy, yet silky mop of hair on his head seem to create a pull that drags her just a little bit closer to a and they lived happily ever after.