The Washboard WindBody mimics water motion--The Washboard Wind4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
laundry skin, white wash, sweat,
your ribs are the hull of a ship
and heave night-breath. Bones
touch one another, unknowing
of their existence and you're scared
of the soundless swell in you.
You're no pirate. Don't fight this.
argument The last time I spoke with you, it was like breathing underwater. My lungs were filling up, so that thin words kept swimming out of my mouth and I coughed up phrases that didn't make sense. Every speck of twisted logic you managed to shout suddenly fit, and I found myself wondering if you had been right all along. It was too bright. You were too loud. I didn't know what to say, and the fish were swimming all around me and brushing my shivery arms and my skirt was floating and freezing my bare legs. My hair was seaweed. My tongue was salt. I was not as pretty as a mermaid.argument8 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
I'm not sure how, but underwater you were the most sensible person alive or dead. Your arguments, usually ridiculous, rang strong and true and made me look like a stupid foolish little child. My retorts were sloppy and ill-re
Butterfly BreathI caught raindrops in my palm,Butterfly Breath4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Standing on rough sand
And watching the ocean swell
With the fresh, new water of Spring.
The air tasted of salt,
Lilacs, and something forgotten
Lingering in my brain
Just above my spinal cord.
The boy was there,
Holding the sky in his palms
And weeping- always the same
That was when I realized it was a dream.
"Who are you?" I called.
He dropped the sky,
Blue shattered and the rain stopped.
"Don't break your wings."
He warned in a voice the colour
Of sunset poppies.
"Don't break them, or"
The waves crashed and he was gone.
I stood alone again on the sand,
Blue sky fragmented at my feet.
My wings fluttered in the wind.
I held up my hand for the rain to return,
And a monarch butterfly, regal,
Precise in every movement,
Alighted on my fingertip.
"Don't break your wings." It warned.
Its eyes were black as snakes.
"Who are you?" I cried.
"Why do you always leave me?"
The butterfly crumpled,
Dissolving as the rain returned,
Salty as the ocea
In the Year of Our Lord 1921Aug. 2In the Year of Our Lord 19219 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Two weeks out.
This far north
the sun barely touches the horizon
before it rises again.
No wind now for three days.
We have not seen the skipper since friday night,
but we can hear him screaming from his cabin:
"The sea has many gods!"
The sea is oddly calm;
his voice carries for miles.
This morning we dragged up
the bloated corpse of a sea lion.
The first mate stared long at its body
before he decided that it was not a mermaid
and we threw it back overboard.
The holds are empty still;
our nets drag useless behind us.
Cook says he hears bells in the distance.
He has been drunk for days.
The galley smells like stale bread and trench-death.
The skipper has gone silent now;
there is only waves against the keel,
and the first mate leaning on the wheel.
He mumbles foreign names
and stomps his heavy boots on the deck
to keep us awake.
We have not slept for weeks.
The wind is
golden ingredientsminneapolis hadgolden ingredients6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eyes so blue
I couldn't sleep
wanted to wander
lose myself in her
but memory's unmade
dreams depart with
I ate up pavement
like a twin city
and though I left
before you loved me
I couldn't ask
for a better way
to fill my hours
Toughshe looks strong, toughTough8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at least you think she is
but then again we all know
that ignorance is bliss
you dont know her pain
sometimes you'll see it in her eyes
but she doesnt let it show
behind toughness she hides
there isnt a true smile
there isnt a true self
its what she hides behind
there isnt anything else
you think you know her truly
you may know her better than some
but you dont know the pieces lost
or all the things she's done
you dont know the lies shes told
or seen her many scars
you dont know the lonliness she feels
or the coldness of her heart
you cant see the effort
it takes to hold on
you think shes alright
when shes almost gone
she looks strong, tough
and behind it she hides
she continuously puts up walls
cause she's been hurt so many times
you think she's opened up to you
shared the pain she keeps
but she only shares a portion
the rest gives her the creeps
you wont see the tears
when she looks back on it
you wont see the pain
and you wont taste the vomit
you wont see thi
ghosts in a slideshowghosts in a slideshow6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
the skysick sun, fading woozy, throwing up.
dripping on the backs of conveying camels.
bodies of water, yes, every touch moves through.
grassland often. skinny belly atop the garden hill's slope.
train-track thap-thapping. smile, God's tap dancing on a saturday sundown.
you're watching the show frontrow. i'm watching you.
i say, "those mistakes on your arm look nice in this light." but i don't. not aloud.
instead i say, "do they hurt when it's cold?"
and you say, "it's not cold right now."
so i say, "i didn't notice." but we don't. not aloud. not allowed.
so i say, "you look hurt." no. i say,
"you look pretty."
yeah. i said that.
then you looked at me. then you cried. because i'm a liar. only to you.
i mean, to you only, i am a liar.
i mean you see me as a liar.
but you know what? everything's alright in my mind.
and that's good for me for now.
"hey, V?" that's what you said.
"yeah?" i said.
"where are we?"
"we're here, dear. we're right here."
tell me i'm lying. tell me there's a me a
four sinsI.four sins8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the stars were so bright it hurt,
i fought a battle
to pull the light back into your eyes.
three weeks and a coma later your lips moved
forming a red stain in the air - "jesus," you said, "jesus."
i tried my hardest to understand.
please turn on the radio
and drag it to your grandmother
in the room with dusty light and dusty blankets,
she'll hear the dusty grit of static voices
from the old days
she will fall absolutely in love again,
feeling the crunch of an apple and touch of a kiss
on teenage teeth
guilt is the eighth sin
tears you apart with knives and daggers
and a satisfied smile -
i rebuilt frankenstein's monster
inside myself, all for you
Mail-Order Childhood [Age: 5]Mail-Order Childhood5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Everybody's talking, but the room is quiet.
The lights above glow with the warmth and luster of a dozen plump candles. Soft, yet radiant enough for me to see the nebulae in my father's eyes, even from so far away. There were neither props nor backgrounds, save for the children in costumes and the little STOP sign choking in my nervous grip. I had no choice. The show had begun.
My class sat in squealing tin chairs as we took turns prancing up to the mic to say our lines, just how we remembered them. The boy in the full-body milk carton had the most lines, the proud prick. But it was after his fifth when I was the next up. I squeezed hard and tried not to trip as I stood and made my way to my five seconds of fame. Mouth before mic, I held up the sign: STOP. The world seized spinning and the air was shot dead.
note to selfnote to self8 years ago in Open More Like This
it's a cycle
it's a cycle
it's a cycle
flux a cycle
in the spiral
the meta-ternal datastream
of vicariously obtained wisdom
breaching the walls of delusion
lifting the veils of illusion
liberating the amusing
from the 'truth'
it's a cycle
it's a cycle
it's a cycle
Dear Mom...Dear Mom,Dear Mom...4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I wish you'd understand that this is not just a phase. This isn't going to be going away. This is who I am. I wish you could see that I'm not happy. I wish you'd understand that I could be happy if you'd let me do this. I want to change my name. Don't worry, I'll use the name you planned on naming me had I been born in the right body.
I want to be put on T. I don't care if it make my acne worse, I never really cared about my looks much anyway. I don't care if my leg hair starts growing more and more. I never had a problem with my leg hair, I just didn't want to be the weird "girl" in town with hairy legs. I'm even getting used to the idea that I'll go bald in my old age.
I can handle this, mom, I promise. I'm not messing up my life, I'm trying to make me feel better about it.
I want to have a breast reduction. I have been complaining about my bre
what's yours is minesI imagine youwhat's yours is mines5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
unaware of the
in my gut
the piece of me
and another thing
what you're thinkin' 'bout
what you're thinkin' 'bout
and I guess
'cuz I'm all
filled up with
it takes the place
pressed up against
it fakes the shape
UnderstandI cannot sleep,Understand4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I cannot laugh,
I cannot even
Hold your hand,
My heart, you'll
Trans men and lesbians againKay, so if you're a trans man, you probably know about the controversy about trans men dating lesbians. That lesbians obviously don't like men, so why date trans men? Because they see them as girls, right? They fetishize us and our bodies, and don't really see us as men. They are all selfish like that.Trans men and lesbians again4 years ago in Editorial More Like This
You know what I think? It really isn't always like that.
Yeah, there are cases where that does happen, but those are the infamous chasers that manipulate trans people for their parts and treat them like objects. Those people are not worth anyone's time because they are selfish scum. This is about normal(as in, not creepy chaser) women who identify as lesbians and date trans men, I mean HOW DARE THEY?!
But you know what? Just as you can be offended that such a women could call herself a lesbian, remember that there are people, gay and straight, who are offended by us calling ourselves men. We all know that nobody can tell us what to call ourselves, and that's exactly what this is. It's te
Don't fallOne step... Two steps Maybe one more? No, that was too far! Stop! Back off! You're only hurting yourself so quit while you're ahead. You know there isn't a chance here so why do you keep trying? Come on, admit it, you've been there and you know how it will end, this is how it always ends for you.Don't fall4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You're a hopeful chaser. You know what that means? You run around, doing all the tiny things, making sure everything is to her liking but you know it won't chance a single thing... Even though you are holding out, hope, wishing, praying that it would.
You've already stumbled down this road before, grazing your knees on the gravel when you fell for her, patching your heart up when it started to tear and fall apart.
Don't do this to yourself again. Don't travel that road. You've already riddled yourself with scars, with marks, with pain that brands you hurt. Don't put your heart in those hands again, for last time it was shoved to the back of the self and forgotten.
Don't fall for her agai
I am meYou know that thing?I am me4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The one that engulfs your being?
That raises your spirits?
That makes you feel like you're something special?
Is yours a person?
No matter what, it still makes you feel important, right?
Imagine that thing being taken away from you.
Stolen by someone else.
It destroys some people.
But for one, it drove her mad.
She lost it.
But still managed to calculate how to escape her asylum.
They called her a murderer.
It wasn't her.
That man in the window, watching every move they make.
He did it.
He took away her Life.
With one fell swoop.
If he couldn't have her, no one could.
The girl lay there alone.
In that empty padded room.
Holding that raggedy, tattered bear.
Planning her revenge.
Thinking of her lover and the knife that took her essence away.
The man screaming Murderer.
She is no murderer.
She is me.
I watched her die.
I watched the blood pool out of her limp body.
something to write about...I'd been drug sniffedsomething to write about...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
addled & otherwise
by agents in
points of origin
hope to heart to god
like father thought
hand to fist to mouth
like mother taught
as if no one had
colored those pale
so I shook
as all good books
to the shape
you've made me
I tried to trace
as a map
but found you'd
Pass the Poem: Loss of a LovedYour face still fills my vision when I close my eyesPass the Poem: Loss of a Loved6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I remember July's gentle rain on white wicker.
I yearn for the candle-lit nights of embracing love
And I miss the unforgettable fire in your eyes
the memory of your smile stains my heart with a color I can't describe
midnight blue my thoughts run in circles, with star dropped diamond tears
My heart cannot comprehend this feeling of desolation
as teardrops patter through the broken window of my heart
My eyes cannot abandon the sights of you suffering-fading away
I'm lonely and everywhere I hear the sky screaming your name
A stray breeze carries your scent and a stranger wears your face.
I'm caught up in wisps of your phantom that I want to never leave.
I press flowers onto your grave, a token of affection
One you will never be able to push back... my hands are empty
I fall back against the tomb stone and wonder why you left
Its one of my many questions to which the heavens answer with silence
Without you, I'm starting
It Gets BetterHe didn't want to live. When I first met him, I didn't see that. Honestly, I couldn't see much beyond myself back then.It Gets Better4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Aching from a recent break up and bitter from being on the other side of abuse, all I saw when I first looked at him was someone beautiful and someone I could help. Since my best friend was beyond my reach, I tried to reach out to him. At that time, I thought I was only helping him heal physically while he helped me emotionally.
A few weeks before we met, he had fallen from a fire escape. I remember how casually he told me about the fall, about the damage it had done to his body. The memory still haunts me, though I'll never tell him that.
Even though I didn't know him, his words were a physical pain to me. Empathy has always been my greatest weakness. It is what made me look past the exterior, the obvious warning signs, the knowledge that I'll only regret it, and waste my time on worthless slobs that only hurt me. The same empathy that made my heartbreak for his pain