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
The irony of poetry and sexShift things around in your head and you're single with skin to skin contact attaching heavy breath.The irony of poetry and sex4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're flexing your body, eyes rolling, jaw lifting there is nothing but increasing pressure on your hips.
The guilt is left inside your chest propelling your heart and jolting adredelaine showing up in your heightened
movements and sinking lungs.
Thoughts are only given the power to let you know it's wrong not the right to connect to your heart
when you have pushed it below the surface. The wrong is what makes it so good too. It's the pressure
on your hips that activates the thrust not the pounding of your pulse or the dividing of your mind
between your id and your superego.
You know nothing but what your body wants you to know and that's what feels good. Shadows are
crawling throughout the room hollowing out cheek bones and hips, you end up thinking it's something
fucking beautiful, when it's just fucking. There is nothing poetic about fucking a body when it's only
a body, there is no
If you need me1.)If you need me4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I can't always be fine. If you want I can stay by your side,
but I won't always be fine.
It is only a matter of time before you succumb to fire and
release your stiff tired soul into the atmosphere. It's been
a long tired road and the more she leaves the more you forget
about taking care of yourself. The more you remember how terrible
being alone can be. And no amount of creek bed or blue skies, or
green barns can help being alone. The weather feels like your
only company at times and your mind cuts past motivation like
a blinding explosion stripping bodies from their grounded state.
Or cementing to their position. I wish you could care for yourself
because I love you but the demons don't always let love win.
sometimes they build things in us from each other and we can only
promise that we'll hold up so much before we start falling over.
Please be strong.
it's sad because I know you, I know how impossible that is and
how many words are said and how many promises are lost and how
on skimming the surfacedear ex-lovers,on skimming the surface3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
dear ex-friends, dear little brother,
i have taken all the posters down and my room is a skeleton.
i wonder why you are sad and i am not.
i have taken time and care to grow into these walls
to plant memories here, first fuck
first sleepless night, first question of suicide,
i have collected bones-
here see them in my closet-
i have broken them all.
love was not strong enough to keep me here,
and love is not strong enough, after
on leaving it behindi stillon leaving it behind3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
this might appall you
or agonize you but i do.
i remember still evenings
with little to exchange besides
heartbeats and breathing patterns.
i remember soft afternoons
with my back raking against the carpet
leaving sporadic scars and stitches of memory.
i remember dark roads, and darker rains.
i remember a longer faith and a shorter pain.
the wounds are not as fresh, they do not sting,
but they ache and the few times i hear your voice
wedges your fingers in my brain and i can feel the cake
of neglected cum stains and i can hear the desperation in
the small whimper of my name and the way it was hard for your
breath to escape and my mind is running on thin rails, paper train,
and all i ever wanted from you was a home, not a place.
you would finger fuck me in the movie theater
and i would squirm and you would laugh because
i am not so good at keeping quiet. and all it would take
was a look from me or my hand up your knee or my lip under my
teeth and your eyes would
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.6 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
All we know is each otherGetting off in a limo, my spine sliding down the leatherAll we know is each other4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slick and sticky with your face in my lap burying yourself
so deep into me. Jaw clenched and fingers traveling through
your hair often pulling or retracting.
My bodies motion only lives in your excelling desires
where everything else quiets and the noises slip like thoughts.
The windows down, the breeze swelling my already grown
goosebumps as we blend like watercolors bleeding into each other
and becoming things we didn't know existed. I like that life boils
into this sometimes, I like that your body can be cupped round mine
and the world can be flying by with all it's madness and beauty and
still at that moment
all we know is each other.
on being free, chained, and whatever's in betweenhey, it's me. it's christmas eve. and well i know you know that, but i feel like if you save this message, it will be important to know that it's christmas eve or something. i'm alone and it's christmas eve. all i can do is move the way the music moves me and i feel like i need to be oiled. i'm not moving the way i want to be moved. i'm not really saying i need to be fucked or anything i just need a body to remind me what joints do. or i mean how they're supposed to feel. something like that. i don't even want to be in love. i don't love you anymore. i don't know who you are. i knew you once in the summer and in the fall and in the winter and in the spring and in the summer again and a little in the fall too. i knew that you were an untameable fire on a rampage but i did not expect you to burn your own body and you burned me too i'm not even sad i'm just so mad at you i'm so mad at you and i'm a little drunk and i'm a little fucked up and i'm not even sad i swear to you i'm not sad.on being free, chained, and whatever's in between4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Distance collects like When I wrote "I love you" on your palm I never thought it'd mean more than I love your ribs, and your spine, and when your stomach slides over mine and blushes with heat against me.Distance collects like6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I didn't think I'd be leaning against the sink throwing up and thinking "I'd love for you to see me this ugly, love for your lips to brush against the goose bumps on my bare shoulder blades and feel the heaves shake my whole body and the only words that would leave those lips would be 'it's okay, i love you.' "
I wander in my house drunk, fall down the hall dragging my fingers against the wall asking myself where my bed is so I can tell you I'm sorry until I feel my chest drop and I sink to the floor swallowing myself in one thought and whispering: "No more, no more. I know."
I miss you in more ways then one, and it isn't all your lips or hips or ivory skin but it is your voice and heart and soul. You do not miss a soul if