Beneath streetlight eyes."This isn't living," I say and you are silent. You don't have to say anything for me to know; you don't like to believe in anything until you know the answer, until you can see every step. There's no answer key to life, but I don't say so. "What's wrong?" I ask and you fumble, say something about your parents, your love life, your friends who hate me. Your lie is bleeding, but this is the only language we know. "It's going to be okay," I say, but this means nothing to people like us, and we are silent again.Beneath streetlight eyes.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's easier to lie to you because sometimes I hate you, but usually not. The words slide out of my mouth like tobacco leeching from my lungs, and you relish them, tasting every last one. You like it when I lie to you, and sometimes I like to watch you burn. Sometimes I hate you, but usually not.
We are the children in perpetual motion, rising through the night like sparks from a fire. We taste the sky, drinking beneath the harsh light of parking lot eyes because sometimes we hate o
It's All That Will RemainI sit and stare at a decreased horizonIt's All That Will Remain5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mocked by improvement,
Devoured by development.
I sit and stare at the grass, once so green
Now yellow, as the light from dusk
mixes with light from the street lamps,
The cold sentinels, lining the streets.
I sit on an island of life,
designed for aesthetics,
I stare at the advancing
Stone and tar
Hungry for more.
A last refuge for life,
In the cities of the dead.
Three A.M. Three A.M.Three A.M.5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
My eyes are wide open, but I can't see a thing. It's three A.M. and I'm lying here in bed waiting for these champagne dreams to seep in and sweep me away
I lie here, consumed in your intoxicating scent, sedating me into an otherworldly comfort. It's the end of the day at the end of the week. It's three A.M. and all of the burdens of life have been relieved. I am now weightless and free to savor the moment.
Still tethered to reality and my mind won't stop. I focus on you to coax my weary eyelids into giving up their fight, but no matter how hard I try, my eyes are still filtering the pale moonlight. Through the shadowy figures and the shad
lucky mei said "i think love islucky me4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
truth" and smiled
but she really didn't know
and neither did i
she muttered "lucky you"
and i wasn't listening anyway.
we're all students of half-truths
of absent fathers or rain
(go ahead, pray for sun
and tell me how it goes)
ugliness is youth and the
same clothes as yesterday
and hours and hours and hours and hours
mulling over pain
who said pain is a problem anyway
life isn't neat
ugliness is defining beauty
or a cage or stage (or measured words
or plain old common sense)
or wanting anything else
(ugliness is rhyme, or a turn of phrase.)
and pettiness is all the rage.
she told me we
believe in hell to get to heaven
and i wept because
she began sinning at seven
(what an awful weight
and she longs for death
her life is an awful wait)
we paused for a drink
i asked her why.
she asked me to cover the tab
and if i thought angels
i am the lost causei am all ninety-nine shades of nostalgia,i am the lost cause5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i am the streets from seven cities ago, and i am the thick rubble breaking underneath your feet. i am the flashing headlights brightening and fading on the other side of your bedroom window. i am the wind that's whispering insecurities in your eardrums and the lightning frozen in your backyard.
i am the lingering taste of too-ripe strawberries and cracked pavements.
i am that broken vase you never bothered to clean up, and i am the shard of glass caught between the wood planes you never saw nor felt until i scraped the skin off your left knee, and caused a red stain all over your favourite shorts.
i am the compliment to your colours, and i am the disappointing grass stain on your hundred-dollar jeans.
i am that something-you-can't-fix-with-a-glue-gun, something if you'd like to get rid of, you'd have to bleach it all off and even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to get rid of that empty looking white mark.
i am the condensation
The Orange DreamscapeThe Orange Dreamscape of a Cloudy NightThe Orange Dreamscape5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Acoustic notes, played from an old guitar
- detuned, to keep the secret safe
and bulky sounds of stepping shoes
- refined, to keep people attuned.
And voices - channeled over clouds,
like flickers of an afterlife,
to keep us all awake,
Dawncold sunlight,Dawn5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
frigid in the lingering wake
of straggling images
pouring over me in streaks
of bittersweet awakening.
if you believe.i'll smoke on your love, if you let me.if you believe.4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
i'll inhale you whole and breathe you into
my lungs and you'll take the form of a tar
when i walk down the road, i'll stroll down
the middle, toe behind heel right down
i can fold you into every crease of a paper
crane that i'll learn to make at a craft store,
where all the moms hang out.
where i won't fit in.
but i will do it for you.
your love will weave its self into my bones,
color bleeding into the skin that stretches over them,
turning me into a canvas for emotions
you hold near and dear.
but when i stand out in the cold, on the porch, when you're asleep in our bed - i will hold the cigarette up to my lips and inhale the smoke that is not tainted with your love.
i can't goemily: you know what sucks the most in the world?i can't go4 years ago in Drama More Like This
emily: the feeling of loneliness. knowing that when you come home, there won't be anyone waiting in the dark of your room, wanting to hold you like you need to be held. that feeling of walking into a crowded room and feeling so lost that you might just fly away. i hate that feeling, nora. i hate it.
nora: i hate it, too.
emily: i fucking hate it. and you know what?
emily: i only feel all right, like i'm a better person, when i'm with you.
nora: but i -
emily: can we just be quiet for a bit? can we just sit like this? just for a bit?
nora: ...yeah. yeah, we can.
note to selfstop wasting time wishing to write betternote to self5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all that you ever wanted to see printed across the faces of stars,
like postage stamps Write letters to the universe
and walk outside every once in a while
just to hear the applause of leaves
smell the clouds and their glorious soft tickled whites like eggs
laugh because you've never seen a silver lining, only soft daubs of pink
like bacon. Make this your breakfast, waking up
to the birds tracing black arrows across the sky
watch this through eyes
like telescope lenses
and wonder at wonder, and please
let happiness please you and
thank you is a nice thing to say
every once in a while.
Adam and EveAdam and EveAdam and Eve4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Eve and Adam
They lived in Eden
They left saddened
The elephants receded as
the hummingbirds jetted away
in cool blue streaks
firing away into the background
of extensive nature
A colossal stone sphinx said
-There isn't any way out.
The sharp sun danced on his
spotted soft coat he licked
his paws between purrs that
shook the plates of the earth.
The rusty garden gates swung in
sardonic intervals. Air rushed out
as all living things slipped into the
vortex of sin, and when Adam and
Eve landed on the other side they sat
naked in the dusty landscape of eternity.
of the curse
the taste of almostthe light of the moon is the only thing keeping me from standing on my toes and kissing you. i don't care that she's here, that they're all here. i don't care that you might not feel the same about me. i don't care and i never will. because it's halloween and it's scary, just like finding the truth about you. the light of the moon is stopping me because i know you can see me just as well as i can see you, and i'm scared of what's in your eyes, and i don't want you too see what's in mine.the taste of almost4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i feel like we're going in circles, living only on the magical, mysterious, vampire weekends. and i'm only up when you're down, and you're only happy when i'm sad. and it can't work and it won't work, but we try and try again, like pushing two magnets together. but it'll never happen.
i'm painting my room, and i feel the urge to paint your name in red, so that's what i do. and i paint it over and over, blocking out the red, and maybe someday, years from now, someone will chip the paint away and see you
RainFuck writersRain4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wisps of white hair springs curled from my hard knuckles. Time descends eternally into a vortex. A vortex felt, but not spoken of. Darl and Vardaman. William Faulkner was the best writer of all time. Cars move as metal contraptions. Blacktop painted wet. Water rolling into a gutter like time descending eternally into a vortex. I had a lover but then she couldn't take me anymore. Curly black hair and a cute smile. I wouldn't let her get braces. Sprawled across my bedroom floor, naked and looking for answers. Sound breaks weightless across a defined plane of existence. Mahler Symphony 1. Feel the end of the world under your fingernails, digging into your shaking hands. April may be the cruelest month, but Novembers a bitch. My window is open. My mom is home. It smells like rain...shit.
vials of red.brokenvials of red.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she scribbles these words into her
feathery light skin,
peels it off,
(she doesn't feel a thing)
threads it through a bottle,
and launches it into the sea,
(a stained mess of emotions)
letting it go.
wishes bounce her weightless,
the infra-red scope of pointlessness.
she brings up a vial of red,
(red, so red)
swirls it round and round,
(into her body lacking of colour)
filled with red, she starts off her run,
(keep going. gogogo)
watching the white of her skin,
glow lightly underneath.
her feet pound the pavement,
as she loses her red through her pores.
tired of impossibility, tears,
she tears her fading red-coloured strings out,
pulling all the shades out of her from underneath.
"is this what you want? my bones are out of red.
my pupils are dilated from lack of red. all you want
is the redredred in me. i'm not red. i'm anything bu
Bird on the WireI am a bird on a wireBird on the Wire4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
full throated with song
these hollowed bones
know just what notes to play
to usher in the dawn
Forgive me for plucking sleep
from your eyes
Forgive me for tucking the darkness
beneath my wings
I know not everyone enjoys the music
I play . . .
Is that a shoe?
PotSlick shit soothes,Pot4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
soft shin smooth,
you have those knobby knees
that knock awkward.
Your curly hair falls,
your bare back against the wall,
we try to kiss
but we can't stop laughing.
Those Little Mermaid sheets
tucked in the corners, neat,
fly off the bed fast.
You hit your head on the bedpost.
16 and wild-eyed,
living fast to die,
who would know things
change so fast?
It has been two years since I have seen you. Two years since we kissed, with pot smoke seeping out the side of our mouths. You called me a week ago saying that we should "chill" sometime and that you had missed me. I know you didn't, you were just looking for an excuse to be apart of something that was once beautiful. So we hung out and for a second it was just like old times. Smoke filled my car and we laughed at all the shit playing on the radio. But then that moment was gone, the photo still ripped savage by the calloused hands of time. I guess until we meet again, I will read my Camus and you will listen to your Su
SkewIt cameSkew4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A child's play,
but crossed the borders
set for less
The fog seen by Poor It SackIn the loneliness of the hour, there was It Sack.The fog seen by Poor It Sack2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Sack was a kind and gentle soul - letting the need of the hour come in the way without question or any doubts; Sack was a true, honest-to-Ba-eg Bag - well, close to one anyway - that served its master blindly for as long as it could be remembered.
Two Bag Months, sadly - It got lost and torn while carrying grain from the town of some dirty natives to another town inhabited by dirty natives.
i dont really understand.I don't really understand [you].i dont really understand.4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
What is so funny about watching a comforter swim in
an ocean of soap and metal inside a box, watching
it flip and spin, spin and flip. It's getting clean. I
don't really understand [the punchline].
Walking away from it all, I had no regrets.
I had done it before. I had said goodbye to a
building before, had parted from human beings
to [never] lay eyes on them again. But we knew,
[I] knew, that we would meet again. If it was on the
street or in a dimly lit arcade where we were both
cheering on some kid playing Packman, we'd meet again.
[but not you and me. not us.]
I used to write stories about love. I would imagine
these great southern gothic romances, or seaside
lovers that would be so passionate for one another,
they would recreate the word love.
And then I just stopped writing about love. That was
after I met [you]. After I ran away from you, after you
tried so damn hard to conceal your love from me, told everyone
except me, and then I pushed hard en
hating things that rhyme.vintage wallpapered bedrooms and dead roses in my hair, you're laughing like you actually think i'm funny. interesting.hating things that rhyme.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
did you think i was funny when i cried on your shoulder?
when i fell into your arms?
when i laughed at your joke?
when i fell for your charms??
made up my mind?
lost too much time?
looked you in the eyes
and saw the fire inside?
did you think i was funny when i told you i loved you?
so i cut all my hair, or didn't you know? you don't even look at me anymore. and i'm getting really tired of being ignored, backstabbed and lied to. it's starting to trouble me, really. because now i'm starting to not feel bad for myself, but for you and the mistakes you keep making. i'm tired, so tired, of being ignored and
i'd hate to die twice, it's awfully boring
i see black light
don't let me go like this, tell them i said something
are the only things i can think of when i should be saying
i love you and i hate you and i can't make up my mind. i'm tired of you and i can't get
Punch Drunk, FuckPunch Drunk, FuckPunch Drunk, Fuck4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He sits alone at a table for two
nursing a bottle of bourbon. I despise
his askance glances and the one line quips
that encompass his social repertoire.
It was just another chance meet at the door.
Tangled within each other once again,
we've been here before. 'You just can't resist'
he says with that smile, that smile, and I swing
for his face, and then he has me by the throat
against the bathroom floor. I taste blood, and
we're kissing. Behind me with his arms around
my body, his hand counting, one by one,
each rib, as it makes the passage into
the brevity of my waist line. He stops,
just there, in the slope of my hip. I feel
the hum of his resonance on my neck,
'this has been my favorite part of you.'
Part time bad asses with tattoos and scars,
or one time shots at the punk rock extreme,
we were always products of the same scene.
Pushed together by the fear of sleeping
alone, we'd never admit there was never
anyone else, or that it was
super novas over teatoday, we went to the moon.super novas over tea4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
we constructed a thing shaped like a tree
house using my father's old snippets of dreams,
the plans and wispy bits of thought he left
floating over our antique dining room table.
its color is a deep brown, like his eyes.
there are whales in space, you know.
they eat stars and they glow. the ones
that floated past our windows i gave names,
eccentric ones like bartholomew, acheron,
they are names that remind me
of chandeliers and ascots and fine, useless
walking canes. i talked about this while we
floated about and i told you how i had this dream
of wearing a long dress and partaking in
bouncing dances set to violin. you told me
i should have been born hundreds of years
earlier and i took this as a compliment.
we made love on the ceiling and the next day,
you floated away. the universe can make you lose
your mind; its vastness can make you feel so small.
you wanted to touch a star. i watched you through
the window, i called your name, i pressed my t