silent screams.taste the venom between the smacking
of twin lips as they break their joint spine
and revel in the sound of death drilling
behind your eyelids until alone is a sound
you think you might want to rest in.
close your heart and button up the shutters
and board up the doors until the wind howls
and the chain is beating against the wood
with a hollow sound like a fist knocking,
but you know better, because no one has
knocked on this door since thirteen hundred
days ago when time was starting and you
had fresh pain[t] and a bright smile.
music hurts in the way of your skin peeling
and love is too bright to even look at and
the voice you want to wrap up to swallow
your breath is strangely missing and no
matter how hard you try, this absence
is just the lack of anything and you can't
drown in nothing no matter how
damn much you want to.
your back is in knots and your head is in
pretzels and you're screaming without making
a sound and crying without dropping a tear
and your flesh is melting all
show me the meaning.staple my eyes closed and promise me that's the best way to see.show me the meaning.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
press your mouth to mine and breathe poison down my throat, bite my tongue until the blood is dripdripdripping a steady path down to my waiting lungs. backhand me when i choke, call me ungrateful when i try to cough it up again. rip reality from behind my lungs and tell me not to bother with it, tell me i'm mistaken and the world is a lie and the only map i'll ever be able to trust is the rotting directions spewing forth from your gilded tongue.
ignore me when i question. get angry when i keep pushing. shove me into the wall and pull the moral fibers from my heart until i forget what right tasted like and am left with the feeling of wrong tattooed between my molars. let me stumble into tar pits of mistakes. don't stop when my hand draws the blade across her breast, don't blink when i continue to hack, when i'm sobbing between blows. turn your cheek when i'm sobbing, when i'm breaking her down, when each lash across her ba
the redefinition of right.this is the kind of mistake you always hoped might happen.the redefinition of right.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's the sequel backtracking and breathing life into the clay-lungs of your favorite character, the news reporter glancing back at the teleprompter and ten thousand more souls clawing out from the mushroom cloud. it's the kind of mistake that fixes the imperfections and calluses of reality, the kind that smoothes over the ordered lashes.
it's not getting what you deserve, but rather, what you wanted. it's feeding you honey when you were prescribed bitter root, slipping you into satin when burlap was folded at the foot of your bed. it's the kind that scares you, because you know better than to think it can last, your fingertips brushing over the edges and expecting it to dissolve like a glorious dream, your tongue savoring the sweetness because you know any second the illusion might evaporate off every taste bud.
it's waking up and swallowing the sun. it's letting the burn settle into your belly and smolder, your very flesh expa
stuck in transit.Time bends and snaps the spine of reality between its hands.stuck in transit.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Desires bleed like the ink you've left smudged and faded on my hips. The room is empty without your breath to swell the walls; my bed is cold without the warmth filtering through your pores. The clock is manipulated and broken, the ticks becoming distorted screams, the silences becoming gasping moans. Sleep flutters behind eyelids and drags at the exhausted mind until I am writhing under the sheets that smell like you, nails biting my scalp, body contorted against the pressure you kept at bay.
My memory sinks and anchors on the same parts:
The honey of your tongue and the heat of your sleepy lips against the back of my neck. Your palms following the nerves radiating under my skin until they quieted and fled. Soapy shoulders and sticky, peanut butter kisses. Murmured Whitman as we sprawled on bench swings and echoed songs as we shot down back roads isolated in sound.
Memories drag me down and pull me up, wring me dr
the sun thief.this is the point i'd like to tell you how i really feel about you:the sun thief.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
this is the point you sit down and shut up and keep your wandering fingers to yourself. put them in your pocket, in your lap, shove them in your mouth, down your throat, in the fire, under the knife. frankly, it doesn't matter to me -- just keep them to yourself. you have a nasty habit of trying to pickpocket emotions that aren't yours to have and trying them on for size when no one is looking. you have nervous fingers that pluck at loose strings to see if you can unravel the tapestry. you have a terrible way of picking at the chipped paint as if you have the power to erase the beauty spread across the sistine chapel. let me clue you in: you don't.
so be quiet, swallow your tongue, understand the forever trapped between the glow of his words isn't for you to capture. you had your chance when the world was new and the passions were leaking out of his pores and you turned away. you had the moment for the span of a breath
the emptiest word in the worldyou're the kind of beautiful that breaks down centuries.the emptiest word in the world4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you have the appeal of bloodied smiles and epidemics and time winding down on the cliff edge of your poet's mouth. you're holding together shattered dreams between scarred palms and sobbing with the strain, but refusing to let go. you're picking up birds with broken wings and taping them together, refusing to give up even when they teeter off your flesh to plummet to earth like stone. refusing to stop, refusing to give in, refusingrefusingrefusing--
and you keep repeating: one more time, one more breath, one more and you'll fix them.
you're two shades from a sunrise and four seconds from a meltdown and you're still not afraid to go dancing barefoot in the ash. you're choking on smoke and spitting up wine and pulling truths from between your fractured fingers. you're licked clean and scarred and your lungs are ballooning until the air is too thick and your voice is lost in the aftermath. you're falling through closed windows onto
bleeding ink-throats_c.I'm forgetting how to pump these rotting thoughts through my grasping, skeletal fingertips. I'm a well run dry and the only thing left is the bucket at my feet, cracked and aging; blank, broken pages with nothing left to say. And all my body's wishing for is a way to spell the words that will write you back into my arms. Because you're a thousand miles and a million wishes away and I'm starting to believe I've just got no words left to say.bleeding ink-throats_c.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I am bleeding syllables and pulling phrases from between my teeth, but they're broken and empty. I know if I breathe my poisoned sorrow into your mouth, your lips will dry and your flesh will crack and the beauty of your wordless joy will turn vile with the hopelessness of my wordy existence. Perhaps we should live in silence and bury my words under the porch. Perhaps we should turn our cheeks to the strung-together sentences of my questions. Perhaps we should just run into muted existence and forget how with each separate vowel, I am digging up
we are eternity.Tell me, darling, how do we best count time?we are eternity.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
If you wish, I can reboot my system so we might run through the system and backed up files until we come up with the hard answer. We can have it in Eastern, Central, Pacific or Neverland and still be left with empty numbers. We can cross-divide and carry over our hearts, add the sum of our parts until we're nothing but decimal points flashing on the ambiguous screen. We can disconnect and rewire, throw our cyber-smiles against the wall until it's been reduced to springs and forlorn beeps of the dying machine.
Still, we'll have our answer: thirty days.
Or, if you prefer, I can break my poet's tongue in two and bleed words all over the hungry sheet of paper. I can write sonnets of the wind winding across the continent and limericks of the wolves howling for our distance. I can write songs to make stars weep in the clichéd sky of diamonds. I can compose you poems with phrases strung so daintily together that your nerves will bind and your
sheep-wool covered lies.i ate your heart and reveled in the way it smashed between my molars like ripe grapes, the way i could feel the pulse beating between my clenched jaw, the life squirming in and out to stain my lips. i swallowed it whole and felt it beating like a drummer boy in the pit of my belly, your sorrow the beat i danced my day to. your misery was a lullaby i sang to myself at night, the sheep i counted when my eyes were closed. i could feel it in the way it seeped into my veins and tangled around my bones like weeds growing too fast to contain. i gloried in the power it gave me, the way i could pull your strings and make you dance, the way i could bloody your soles and your soul and at the end of the day when i slept in my bed, it was made of the gnashed bones and entrails you left behind.sheep-wool covered lies.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
is that what you want me to say?
if you want, i'll tell you about how i thrilled at the tears in your eyes. i'll tell you i manipulated the map to pull reality apart and create a fantasy for us to get lost in
bleeding confessions.dear boy-with-a-solar-heart,bleeding confessions.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
love songs are never enough, poems are empty carcasses of emotion when it comes to you. i've spent entire evenings rummaging through the backlit crevices of my thief's mind, trying to drag the proper words from the shadows, but they all flee. the words all hiss and spit and claw: words that describe emotions that have never once been exposed to daylight. words that have slumbered for decades in the hope they would never be touched. words with seeping wounds and open bruises and complications a mile-wide. words that lived in little fear until your warmth shone through the slats of my reality-prison. words that are fighting me tooth and nail and slipping the bare minimum onto my desperate tongue so i might scarcely taste what it would feel like to properly describe you.
do not consider this a love poem. think of this as yet another rambling of a nonsensical tongue and a dreamer mouth, but certainly not pretty words strung together to talk about moss-covered s
the sun isn't a candle.you never did learn that beauty can't be painted on rotting ship hulls. decaying wood will always smell like the ocean's betrayal and the salted funeral salute of gilded words. swirling acrylics will only mask the bleak gray and bled-dry sinkhole of your chest. so, you can sit there and call yourself the queen of your world, the mistress of mystery and empress of lust, but you're taking on water and sinking fast and the imploding sea around you is the last grave your cat-eyes will ever witness. you're sinking like a stone in your hate and deception and the one hand that would have pulled you back is the one you gnawed off at the wrist.the sun isn't a candle.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you see, you had the sun in the palm of your greased talons, the whole reason for expanding lungs stitched between your pores and you discarded it like secondhand news. you never did realize: he's the cause of the spinning axel and the foundation of rome and the song the stars sing to dusk-covered fields. oh, you were just too blind to absorb his light!
as i cry sanctuary.the world is ending; i am borne in the bloodshed. i am stretching awake from the locked arms of the corpses, the froth of the raging sea dripping from the ends of my hair. i am naming myself death and sleeping in graves, molding sprawling metropolitan dreams from the loose sand behind the tombstones. the timeline of my hourglass is a snake swallowing its own tail. i am infinite; in this finite world, i am nothing. i watch the maddeningly swirling chaos of human destruction below the soles of my feet without a shudder. i touch the mirror and see wormholes in space. i press frayed emotion against the base of my skull and pray to science in the name of osmosis. i am whole and beautiful. i see everything; i feel nothing.as i cry sanctuary.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am the night sky thief. i burglarize the heavens and paint them on my bones. during the day, i feel the morningstar dripping down to splatter on my pelvis, drawing forth warmth with a liquid pull from the sprawling roots in my belly. i am a statue caught forever in a m
tide pools of disbelief.broken words splintertide pools of disbelief.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath my feet
and i'm perched
on the faded edge
of what beauty
looked like before you
went and rearranged it.
from here, i can see
the distant salted shore
where you are cradling
the rest of my life amongst
the rest of the vowels
missing from my disjointed,
leaning against the vacant
air your bones should be filling,
i'm suddenly aware i'm nothing
but empty palms and scattered
sheets of music and if i was to cry
would you close your eyes to pretend
the collapse of my lungs is a poem?
would you write me a promise,
carve me a secret and fold them
in broken glass bottles
before hoisting the corpses
out to sea?
would you pull emaciated
fears from cobwebbed corners,
feed them into the shells of paper
airplanes before trusting
them to the airwaves and me?
if yes, then press reality
into my hollow cells
until life is a synonym
for you, until death
is a forgotten moment
when your lips peeled
goodbyes away from mine.
if yes, kiss me through
yesterday i died.ghosts are burning the edge of my vision.yesterday i died.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i can feel the way they crowd and jumble, the way their fingers are pulling sticky fingers against my sanity and dragging me further and further into the rabbit hole of my insecurity. i can see them in the shadows at the base of my eyelids and feel their voices in the spaces between my vertebrae. they call me when i'm awake and they scream when i'm asleep and i claw at my face and i pull at my skin, but they burrow deeper and deeper still.
they quiet and stagnate, yet i can feel them in the dust that my feet unsettle as i walk forward. their faces are persistent and their mouths gaping open with the scent of decay bound like a cord around their flapping tongues. they are silent and knowing, touching my inner demons with a violating hand. they nod, they smile; they are smug. i hate them for this. they see the way my heart quivers in my chest and they stroke the trembling bones that it clacks against. they crack the silence and whisper, tell me o
guiding me home.you found me bleeding on the side of the road.guiding me home.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you found me spitting up death and choking on life and letting reality throw bruising fingers around my throat to squeeze the remnants of belief. you found me quaking on the tile and shaking the entire building, my spine cracking like a weathered book. you found me as a victim of my own sense of fantasy, my own desires manipulating my nerves like a finely tuned violin playing nothing but funeral sobs. i was half-awake and half-aware and half-of-something-i-couldn't-even-label; you were in over your head.
three days later and i was stitched up with chapped-lips but swallowing whole foods and keeping it down for the first time in months. i was tasting the milk of your healing hope and the honey of your patience. i was soothed by your cool lips against my feverish forehead, but, i was still scared. i was waking up in cold sweats and breaking out to race down the corridors. i was lashing out when you tried to calm me and exploding at the bares
first-class funeral cheers.stick a post-it note on my head and stick me in a drawer as if you'll remember me in the morning. but you won't. not unless i cry, not unless i scream, not unless i throw my words against the walls until you hear the pulse, hear the beat of millions of phrases and definitions and images as wild as jungle throats and murdered lemons.first-class funeral cheers.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
beautiful and tragic, gorgeous and oh, my word, isn't she a genius? but they all boil down to one thing: you're gone. you aren't here. your absence is everywhere. i've erased the ends of my fingertips because they look lonely; i've shoved my hands in the garbage disposal because that's all i am. it's not pathetic, it's just life. it's just realities [a million and two different versions of the same tragedy].
my thoughts are wild, unbridled and, let's face it, stupid. they're suicide jumping off the edge of my tongue. you aren't here to fence them in and the natives are restless. they're leaping brick and mortar and cliff and stone. you aren't here. if i rep
lend me your heart.turn off the lights in your silver-threaded heart and open your eyes. feel your way through the darkness and ease around the sharp corners of my insecurity. be careful, step lightly, don't bruise yourself on my doubts. if you fall to your knees, just keep crawling forward. don't stop, be brave, i need you close enough to hear my whisper.lend me your heart.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i need another soul in the dark to hear these confessions.
i'm sitting in the middle of the ocean, choking on the reflection of the stars, but i think i'm starting to hear the echo of your pulse. i think i can hear the shallow crashing of your breath on the edge of your lips. so, shh, don't interrupt, because i'm starting now. don't shy from this tsunami of emotion or the callous edge of my well-used, wrung-dry heart. i promise, this won't take long.
i just need someone to hear the fears sending shockwaves down my vertebrae, the lonely terror throbbing in my palms every time they kiss in prayer. i need someone to know that i'm floating in flames, crash
irreplaceable.Some things in life cannot be replaced.irreplaceable.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This is the hymn beating within the pulses of those who mourn the shooting stars who have come and gone, who cling to the stardust of comets too hot to tie to this earth of dust and soil. This is the song lilies hum when dusk falls and the ground moves from the thrumming of a hundred pleading hearts in unison; what wheat fields cry out when absences are apparent and desperate mouths are praying into pillows late at night. This is the truth that is realized when mornings shot golden with sunlight do not pluck the beauty of dreams back into reality, but rather face the hollow space once occupied with life overflowing.
Some things in life cannot be replaced.
Some things are too precious to be created twice, but rather, are meant to be celebrated for the beauty so uniquely theirs. Some laughs cannot be recreated or mimicked or impersonated by even the silver throat of the mockingbird. Some souls are the Halley's comet of our generation, too wild to b
sleeping to dream.last night, i dreamt of you.sleeping to dream.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you were trapped between the hot, urgent waves of my pulse and the cool, twisted sheets of my bed. you were desperate and angry and everywhere. i couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't live around you. i was sinking in your chest and praying against your throat and the moon washed us silver with approval. the stars looked down and smiled for such young, frantic lovers are hard to find.
we were more than the earth, more than faded myths and legends buried beneath the silt. we were closing gaping distance with hungry mouths and sealing ancient promises with naked desire. we gave it all to one another as i stripped out of ragged cloth and quivering inhibition and you peeled out of bloodied armor and smothering responsibility. you were tired with slumped shoulders, but you didn't ache for sleep. you ached for me as i've ached for you. you were playful and tender and dominating and vulnerable. you were possessive and awed and hopeful and mine. oh, mos
bleeding miles, oceans thick_ci speak all these words in one breath. my mind drips- skin falls to pieces and lands in a pair of hands. the rain washes it away and it's gone, but it flickers like lightbulbs. flickers on and off in my stomach, in my head, in my heart. it's a thunderstorm, it's bleeding into waves. i walked down the hallway and kept my hands in my pockets the whole time. i dream inside my dreams. i have dreams in your bedroom that the forests cry. you kiss me until i cry. liquid sadness down my thighs. it's like breathing in space when you're not here.bleeding miles, oceans thick_c4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
(my heart is a drum and my hands cannot keep the beat. my heart is a bird that my bones cannot cage. you are here and you are not. you are breathing the curve of my throat and i am hungry. i walk the halls alone, i press palms to the walls and watch them fall to the ground. i can feel your heat and i am afraid. i am a coal in diamond's cloth; i am a mockingbird with the tongue of a beggar. you press love into my flesh and i recoil in fear. love is a
breathing hope eternal.the spaces between your ribs are just deep enough for me to fall in.breathing hope eternal.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's there i find you are the nectar of honey and the salt of the ocean, fading magnolias and withered vines. i discover you are the scent of sunshine and freedom, the simultaneous flame of desperation and redemption. you are everything my heart has ever desired, everything my dreams have ever imagined.
you are tender lips and calloused hands, poetry whispered between crooked teeth. sometimes, i imagine you sitting on the wharf with chalk smeared on your palms. i imagine you trying to capture the sunset between mortal hands, breathing life into sketches, dreaming ideas into existence.
you are beauty that is acute enough to hurt and hope bright enough to blind. the faith of the ages is woven between the fibers of your skin. you are everything i could ever be lucky enough to hold, but the truth is still curled in my lungs, reality is still trapped between my eyelashes.
i'm reaching for you, but i know, i can
the beautiful edge of ugly_c"you know, we are made of ugly things."the beautiful edge of ugly_c5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"yes, but have you not heard? ugly is the new beautiful. like the way you always seem to pry at my thoughts and know what i'm thinking; the way you make me talk when i really don't feel like parting my lips and lying to you. it's just like the cyanide and razor blades i keep in my medicine cabinet, waiting for the day when i master the definition of defeat."
"then we are the most beautiful thing in the world, because we are spending our days chewing on gunpowder and wilted roses. i spent ten minutes this morning carving your name on the inside of my thigh; somehow, replicating that pain makes me think of you. makes me think of the day when you broke my skin and told me you liked me better when i was coming apart at the seams. i never did tell you, but i've been falling apart ever since."
"i know you've been falling apart, because i've been picking up the pieces i find scattered around. it hurts me more than you would think, but i am
the words and the silence_c.words are what brought us together.the words and the silence_c.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it was the sentences and the phrases, the way the vowels sounded when you murmured them over state lines. it was the way i could hear your tongue roll and your teeth click; the sensual sighs between the beginning and the end. it was the way i could hear the ocean in your voice and the way i could feel the typhoon at the base of my spine. there was no friction between your fingertips and my flesh. there was no raised hairs from the tide of your breath. it was the language and the way we forged it between upraised hands and a prayer. it was the promise of tomorrow and the carved stone we left on our porch step - knowing one day our sails would fill with more than just hope.
Dreams are what gave our words life.
Oh, there was glory in the romance we dreamt of. We saw a legend in our tale, awaiting a serendipitous encounter and we craved to carve out its epic climax with our bare fingertips. Yes there was glory, and even pride. Pride that ou
singing of beauty.some sing that there is beauty in the breakdown, but i have learned in the heat of your palms that the true beauty is in the rebuilding after the fall. you found me a city burned to the ground and you exhaustively rebuilt all of my fallen skyscrapers. you did not mind the singing and the stinging eyes. you never faltered at the quakes that ran up the base of my spine to the tip of the city limits. you just moved with meticulous, tenacious, loving grace. you found me a forest cleared on a whim, an ocean polluted with the lies of the selfish, a sky darkened with the ache of a thousand breaks.singing of beauty.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you found me ugly, and still, you found me.
so, i do not sing of beauty in the falling, though i have seen the poetry in cracking ribs and bleeding knees. i do not sing of the beauty of salt-encrusted cheeks and nail-bitten lips. i stand in the heat of your embrace and sing of the sun that rises on each war-demolished countryside. i sing of the light that washes over every blood-soaked ba
dare to dance the flame.i'm not the kind of girl you'll be able to forget about in a moment.dare to dance the flame.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i'm the kind that'll stick like a burr and breathe ice down your veins, but just wait because my lips will melt the frost in a moment. i'm the kind of girl that'll sneak into your system like nicotine so you'll keep asking for just a little bigger sip each time, just one more bottle, just one more drag [just one more, one more].
i'm a lie in the making and an addiction brewing in the spaces between your bones. i'm terribly atrocious and wonderfully divine and you'll hate me almost as much as you don't. i won't be part of your memory, because i'll flood it until i'm all that's there. i'll steal your lungs and give you sips of my own breath and promise you it's sweeter. i'll bite your bottom lip with laughing eyes and wipe away the blood precipitation with something that looks like sympathy but feels just like lust.
[you'll never know which, but you'll keep fighting because you're dying to know.]
i'm a storm that