An open letterI'd like to write about meAn open letter5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the plainest words,
or, better yet, not utilize
a human tongue at all.
For words are seldom meaningful
and only sketch where they should strive
to care- and thoughtfully describe
the detailed truths and hidden lies.
Yet still I wish to write of me;
explain, in detailed sketches
things I do not understand
nor ever hope to have explained.
Consider this an open letter;
friend to friend,
from fool to fools,
a message to the wind:
Were I to tell you of myself,
in person, not in written word,
I'd joke, tell excerpts of my life
and never show the storm inside;
This storm, so meagrely described
by all I'll ever do or say
is source of what goes on in me
of motion, movement, peace and strife;
It leads me from without within me,
lets me dream the world outside
with waking eyes and fully conscious;
paints the ways in front of me.
In some ways I am good and righteous
or at least prefer to be
shown other situations you would surely
break your bonds and ties with
Crank2:30 AM coffee and cigarettes, rain dripping from the ledge outsideCrank1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Exhausted, but hopeful; a universe in my cup waiting to spill out
I look inside; this is no new world of wonder, only the one I know
A terrain of coiled barbed wire that engraved my battle scars
Stumble once more down the dark scrubby embankment, naked
Thin-ribbed dogs of waste howl my name; they know me here
The dreamcatcher is full, there will be no more allowed inside
Knives in my back twist like an old song I’ve heard too often
Is that you, looking down from the highest places of light and love?
Do you know what it’s like to be a graveyard worm in soft soil?
How many fingers am I holding up? That’s right, I have none
Little stumps that can’t hold on to anything, can’t even make a fist
AmaranthineCast your dreamsAmaranthine11 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
To your body's tide
When your mind opens wide
All things end
Yet there's no goodbyes
From within your own eyes
desideratumtodaydesideratum3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the translations of you
are lost in the absence
hid behind a barrier
that could shatter in
you are declarations
and grasping, senseless,
at the blank
i am half fear
and all uncertainty;
i would give everything
you tricked me
into loving a vision.
you are a glamour,
in wreckage and nude hands
in your wake.
Foggy Headlights (and Chromosomes)I don't remember if it was a wedding or a funeral, only the flowers...Foggy Headlights (and Chromosomes)5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
seemed like millions of them
Soft, sorrowful, white flowers... roses or orchids?
I don't remember now, maybe magnolias...
You smiled a thin smile, your face pale, washed out.
If it was a wedding, I wasn't the groom.
A funeral, I wasn't the guest of honor.
I never could get things straight, somehow.
stay pretty, glass universestay pretty, glass universe4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No one must see you
like they do.
in the starlit
the one which has polemicized
is the shape of this world,
should never lay naked
for their vain
Their nonplussing fingers
will murder you.
in my glass
shhh.the chair i'm sitting on is hard, old and rocks under my movements like a rocking chair, except i know it's not a rocking chair, but an antique on loose heels. when i fidget, i trace my fingers through the cracks in the arms and legs, my wet, sick and clammy fingers sticking out against the mahogany.shhh.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
when he talks to me, his chapped lips move with the wrinkles around his eyes, the scruff plaguing the skin around his mouth like weeds. his voice is scratchy, the smoke coming out from his nose and mouth almost too smooth against the black of his eyes. they should be watery - like mine - but they're dry, tame from the countless years of smoking.
when he sits down across from me, the chair screeches against the marble floors and his suit furrows under his lean arms and rides up around his ankles. he's still young, i realize, despite the wrinkles and tired bags hanging under his eyes. he may even be in his twenties, give or take a few years.
one of my hands are fondling the small, silver spo
Sunday AfternoonThe icicle meltsSunday Afternoon6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to a javelin point
as ash lengthens along
the end of her cigarette
as snow navigates
the patio cracks.
Her hair catches
as his throat tangles air
Their forms trap guilt
in their skewe-d bones
the way their posture
like a chain link fence
around the purse handle
and the yellow drapes part--
ill-painted church doors.
she is caught between
two brands of cold.
ceiling secretsi was gonna have a vlog today,ceiling secrets5 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i just didn't feel like it.
um, i was laying in my bed today,
tonight and it's ten thirty pm tonight
and i was thinking about all the things
i had to get done tonight
and all the things i had to do,
that i have to do,
and all of my goals
and this is a freestyle poem,
but not really.
of every quasi-desire
that i have
(everyday and all-aways)
in the aching heart
in my narrow chest.
i desire to be known
and spoken of
like my name was caesar
before the fall of rome.
and i ache to be known
like i was jesus,
even when he was hanging--
put on the cross.
and i wanna be spoken of
like god, any god,
whether it's to be dismissed
praised, or spoken of
by the depressed.
and this really doesn't make any sense,
but what really makes sense, anyway?
besides things that make cents.
m-my mother tells me to get a job,
my father tells me to do things
that will make me happy
(this sadness is too real)
my mother says do something
Dear Mirror-ManDear Mirror-Man,Dear Mirror-Man4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I once swallowed
a shattered mirror's glass.
What are you but
a violent wart,
caught coward-faced and bleeding
on the surface of that mirror?
I once pushed against you.
bled against your exit
and swore you'd not return.
But there you were again tomorrow.
What am I to do with you?
Shall I make you yet
the essence of the ashes
with half a heart and angry mind?
Shall I make your halo rot,
and by its hair-width
I'd scream that you're a liar,
cry a murder foul,
scripted in your name,
and rise against you with an army in my fist,
to shake you from my skin,
and call on Adam's atoms
to push you from my wrinkled,
I'd pull my hands from out your cuffs
and give myself a substrate
from which I could unlock
the finest jewels of Earth:
a meeting of two lips
made red by winks
and softened in the secrets of their smiles.
where can you come from
but the caverns of my skin,
and the wrinkles of my mind?
In all senses of th
But one nightShe stares into the darkness as strands of hair decorate her countenance.But one night9 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her eyes hold pain.
––They’re damp with broken promises, and tainted purity.
She’s so aware of herself, it feels surreal.
She can feel her pulse in her wrists, her neck and her chest.
They feel out of sync, just like she does.
She prays to a god she doesn’t believe in just to feel safe, even for a mere moment.
She talks intimately to the empty sky, and asks it for help.
There’s an echo to her words.
––It’s windy, and utterly dark.
The full moon illuminates her doubting soul as she collapses onto her knees, not too far from the cliffs edge.
Her eyes are closed.
It hurts to see the beauty she can’t appreciate.
It hurts to feel so void of life, with a beating heart, and bated breath.
She inhales as deeply as she can.
With all the strength she can muster, she lets out a scream that shakes the core of the Universe.
The scream is long, and desperate.
let's lay down and watch the sky fall.i've taken on the habit of latching my watchlet's lay down and watch the sky fall.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the sixth-to-last notch so that it's too loose for my wrist
and every time i reach up to tame your mound of auburn hair behind your ear
time slips away from me
and we can entangle ourselves in the possibility of forever in its absence.
Bleeding InkI took the bullet that you shot.Bleeding Ink4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
During the battle that we fought.
I shot a bullet too.
Your wounds are probably worse.
Now I lie here, helpless.
How could I? So selfish!
You might have walked away,
or maybe you're here too.
There's something I must say.
Words for no one but you.
I'm sorry for branding you new scars.
I forgive you, but I'm seeing stars.
It's pouring out, I'm on the brink
I can't yet tell if there'll be a light.
As I'm left for dead, bleeding ink.
Dreams That BendDreams That Bend5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Today, I meet
like some cavalier appliance, silver polish
my shrill eruption
into the silent
The glimmer of your assemblage,
each precious scene,
a humming prong, impending
to just twin away
from the last mitosis,
to leave your suitors
with an ivory vestige,
it has no fathom
I've followed in your weather
like a rusty vane
accusing wind of heresy
for the paraffin
to swim apart
and pour out from your apiaries
(and I've no cup . . . )
But, even as your copulas
are starved for sleep
and your paper lanterns
flare and leap
from their ruinous heights, I cannot leave
which still sings
of all I know
nor will I seek
a remedy for dreams that bend the vine.
Omni-Love is omnipresent.Omni-9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
And it follows me
like it is my shadow,
which is ironic because
it is the light
that shows me the way.
But that is why it is everything.
It is the light that plays
firefly tails in lush cultivation
hugging the seedling
that grows young infatuation
into a love that feeds we.
It is a garden
that with each step
But it is also the shade
that protects me
from arson gazes
and burning tongues
that look to swathe
me in whatever blaze
they may have left before.
Yet, all in the same breath,
this love holds comfort
like fireplace embers.
This love is simplistic
in that it is instinctual
where it doesn’t matter
the apex nor beta
but that this love is alpha.
science doesn’t account
for connections that hover
in the astral planes.
This love was formed here
but like the world
because it shall go
on and on
on and omni.
GraffitiHe took me on a cigarette run to the train tracksGraffiti10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in his not-girlfriend’s car.
I slipped past the growth he trampled
toward the underbelly of the bridge.
He asked me if I was wearing shorts
and I wasn’t.
From the struts, he hurled rocks like punctuation
to a breathless, incessant combustion.
—“People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
But I guess that makes me a hypocrite.
They echoed like gunfire
across graffiti-covered walls,
charting out adolescence,
and ricocheting off my ribs.
When I put my arm around him,
he felt like a landmine.
He was the train that rumbled by
and he said we were lucky it was on the other side.
When I saw his eyes like
orphanages—I wanted to kiss him.
We just sat there and waited for another train.
The beautiful decayIn the beautiful decayThe beautiful decay4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The fabric shapes itself
In your room
Despite a changing ache
You my breath
Just to whisper
Closely against the walls
A resistant stare
In these arms
Be holding you
Still closer still
Yet so far away .
Just within reach
I break myself again
Just to have an hour with you.