197919799 years ago in Teen More Like This
He was the cool kid. You know the one, the boy on the corner with the messy hair, the kid you could trust to do nothing and always be there for you.
He was that sweet kid, the one who threw love notes across the room to you in sixth grade. They hurt like hell because he folded them in those compact little paper squares, but the secretive hints in his handwriting made up for the red marks lingering on your arm. He even wrote your name on his palm in Sharpie, and when he got bored in class and leaned his head on it, you were tattooed backwards to his face. He laughed, because everyone would ask what NEB meant, and you laughed too.
He was the pretty kid, who got beat up and fell back on you outside Cinema 18, and you went home and bandaged his face until he was a mummy, and then you both went outside and ran around your neighborhood pretending it was Halloween. The boy you played strip poker with in 9th grade, except you were both blindfolded with bandanas, so the cards
...so I know she is alive.hypothesis one....so I know she is alive.8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If-then statements have money-back guarantees.
fine lines have guidelines,
play books and back streets
and you my dearest own miles
of ambiguities, analogy music,
and the dreams I shut off
That vibrant, orange, plastic laugh
has me second-guessing
tan lines and left-overs
and that warm, familiar
illegal music download static.
Reality is fallible;
everything bleeds right through.
No hesitation could occur as fast
as your full-system re-piecing.
Index a phobia of
forgetting every sigh,
every definition, every glance
of your fingertips on my skin.
Index a phobia of
dreaming it all.
do me the favor
of a giving mind:
dream twenty years
in the to be continued.
What's in your right hand?
Even then you won't know
what you want.
"All I want to do is hold her
and kiss her neck so I know she is alive."
because lately I've trying to find a scrap of proof
and I've been finding in the winding
complex potholes of my mind
not much to desi
From Start to FinishIt all ended with a blade. He was the one who always taught me to trust in things. Soon enough, he lost his trust. No matter what I did I couldnt find a way to bring it back to him. I realized that it was gone forever. I should have seen it coming then. Maybe I did see it I just didnt want to believe it.From Start to Finish7 years ago in Teen More Like This
There was something about the way that he had spoken to me. He always had such an honest look in his eyes. It was that look that always made me believe what he said. I should have known that his looks were only deceiving. Everything ended up being fake.
There was also something about the way he had looked that night. He was nervous, and he was scared. I could see it, and I could feel it in the way his hand shook when I held it. That night is the one night that I could never forget. It was the last night that he kissed me the very last time he held me in his arms. It was only days before that night that he had promised me that everything would be okay. He s
What classifies Beauty?What classifies a woman's beauty?What classifies Beauty?8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The eyes, the hips, the hair?
The size, the weight, the tummy fat?
And how much muscle where?
Is it all about the finer features,
And how large they are or small?
And what about a woman's height,
How short she is or tall?
And what about the color skin?
The black and curvy or pale and thin,
Slanted eyes that tantalize,
Or wide set eyes that grin?
Whatever the classifications are,
Such demands cannot be pleased,
Not for anyone who's not sold their soul,
That the disapproval may be appeased.
And what the reason, we must be mad!
To throw such jewels away,
To beat up beauty and throw it down,
And say it is child's play.
Sisters, now, we must unite,
To stop such torture here,
Yet do so in such a gentle way,
It makes our beauty clear.
drinking spiritsdecember came at dusk, that year.drinking spirits5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
it was said: the news spread like wildfire but the trees never caught on. the radio stations closed their mouths and windows; the waves froze to ice. the encyclopedia forgot to open, never looked up to see precipitation, page 748. the matches never ignited, jesus' death was dark.
that was the year when all christmas spirit was sold at the bar for $3 a pint.
nothing is a crime in new yorksomeone said chicken bones,nothing is a crime in new york6 years ago in Other More Like This
someone was sprawled in the gutters.
there was nail varnish
and letters from nagasaki.
there had been phone calls.
a neighbor heard intestines, we told she's not living in surrealism.
shakespeare was quoted,
gravity was doubted,
someone cut the safety tape.
the dog was confused,
thinking bullets were thunder,
set itself on fire.
mr. thomas thinks that explains the chicken bones.
a plate had fallen to the floor.
baked beans are seeping through the window panes.
we call back-up. over.