I let the water take controlIt's been awhile since I've been underwater,
so I drew myself a bath
and let the water rush itself into the tub
like blood to the brain,
as it pooled into the fiberglass basin
I felt the tides start to rise
while the pond I created began to
encase every limb,
my lips brushed against the water
in a liquidated kiss
and my blonde locks melted into the sea
as if my name were Medusa and
my strands of hair were snakes,
but my body dissolved into what it used to be,
I became the water and the water became me.
And I will Always be the MoonWe have gotten so attached to these days and these months,And I will Always be the Moon3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but a deer doesn't know a Tuesday from a Thursday
and a caribou can't comprehend that it was born on a September afternoon,
but they can understand this instant, this moment, this breath,
only now, no longer the past, and only the future when they get there,
there's a healthy lack of awareness in that,
escaping the fear of death but thriving off the instinct to live,
everything so primal and based off gut reactions,
I guess you could say ignorance is bliss,
but ignorance only actually applies when it comes to humanity,
oh I would like a life like that,
one that is organic, tangible, and ripe with bloody berries,
one where carnal creatures run rampant,
one where we rise from the dirt with muddy thighs
because we were bred into these earthly bodies
to hold seconds in our palms like newborn children,
and to throw our heads back and howl against the awareness that we are dying,
for oh this skin is only our host,
NocturnalWrapped up tight by my own wings,Nocturnal2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hang upside down
while the blood rushes to my head
inside my cobwebbed cocoon,
Ultraviolet rays flicker against my eyelids
in colors I have never seen,
yet maybe I have once before,
I saw them the first time your skin brushed mine,
a kaleidoscope of solar energy
making me blind enough to see the light,
Your voice now echoing in a frequency
only I can hear,
it ricochets through my thin bat bones,
lingering along my teeth
so I can taste the way you sound
along the backside of my cavity,
But now you've been bitten
because I have no control,
my incisors sinking in to your handsome heart
because you are ripened fruit
in the dead of Winter
and I am a parasite
in Summer's wake,
If only the day ever met the night
maybe we could meet again,
but for now this must be enough,
so I return to the shelter of my own wings
to protect myself from the sun
and your own astrological luminosity.
His Breath, Her DeathHer eyes,His Breath, Her Death2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so pale yet patient,
swarms of orca whales swim inside her irises,
dancing along the sunlight in jewel tones,
so rich with reflection,
it's as though you are staring into the ocean
if the ocean were emptiness,
but when you look passed the beauty
you can see that she is broken,
she is a ship wreck in the making
with anchored hips and a drowning smile,
but that's what she gets for falling too fast
when everyone told her it wasn't safe to sail,
the waters too rough, too cold, too heart breaking,
it's too late now though,
she is withered and writhing,
intertwined with ribbons of seaweed,
she has nothing left to give anymore
because he stole her oxygen and
trapped it inside his own greedy lungs,
so now as she dies,
he breathes in her reaping
and then the wind sweeps them up, down, and away.
stillyou lust to make his long legs quiverstill2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like two blades of grass
heavy with morning dew
but you're the first frost of november.
BloomIt's normal, you know.Bloom3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bruises flower under skin like lilies in a garden
Tears find their place just like water in the soil
They seep into the black
And hurt grows so green and natural.
Pearl skin is supposed to go purple
It's as right as the rain.
So don't worry, don't fret
I'm art, you know, cross-stitching on the wall
An ivory piano key
Just as I should be
Because battered things are beautiful.
Feathers torn from silk pillows
And stick figures on balance beams
Aren't as loved, nor as adored,
Nor as beautiful as me.
AnatomyI cannot be the backboneAnatomy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of your moral affirmation;
set aside the scalpel,
burn the phonebook if needed.
Once ComfortingWooden platforms housing the collective wordsOnce Comforting3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of authors past and present tense,
From which I drew shelter in pubescent days,
Back when escaping life was just a turn of the page,
I would pass the time in naïve haze,
Filling my mind with the white lies
That writers call device.
I drank deep from this well of thoughts,
Getting drunk on the heavy draughts
Taking in the pathos notions
From those that would describe a puddle
When it's an ocean
They stuck in me,
Those written hollow truths.
Duty, Honor, Glory,
Consumed my mind
And in search of these,
I left home to find
Leaving behind those paper portals
To gather dust in an empty room,
Where there are none to exhume
Such dangerous ideals.
War taught me uncertainty,
Where chaos moves too fast to see
And life is but a privilege
Bestowed by a corpse's eyes,
Oh, how I long for those comforting lies!
Green fireflies.I want to sit on your porchGreen fireflies.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the simple thought
of your swift arrival.
Sleeping SunCrickets, hiddenSleeping Sun3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
in hydrangeas, rouse
a sleeping sun.
Who Is That Girl?Who Is That Girl?3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Who is that girl,
With dead eyes,
And bleeding wrists,
That will lead to her demise?
Who is that girl,
Who dreams all day,
And screams at night,
Yet smiles anyway?
Who is that girl,
With music-filled ears,
To avoid the tears?
Who is that girl,
Who seems so familiar?
Who is that girl,
That I see in the mirror?
Exteriorsflashing lights and a tightly wound clock,Exteriors2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a never-ending waterfall of mass-produced body parts
and machinery with solar powered heartbeats,
a digital anatomy
punching holes in the night to let sunlight filter through,
artificial stars locked into conveyor belt constellations.
we could fall off the edge of the horizon tonight,
it will only be tomorrow when we wake up attached to heart monitors,
Houston, we are in coma.
we can't change the shape of the air we swim through
if we refuse to breathe,
so let's drink to the night and drink the night.
we pull oxygen through spiderwebs of nerve endings and tin foil,
to fill our disappointed lungs in a last ditch attempt to feel something.
if we don't come back in one piece, or not at all,
they'll chisel words like Stellar and Fearless on our headstones.
but we were nothing special.
we were only satellites on a forgotten wavelength.
Census of Ghostshe now resides in susurration:Census of Ghosts2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
shaken from our summer sheets,
flags drawn taut and shuddering,
and wispseeds rising into the light
with their dressing gowns unbuttoned,
planting onto my lips that name
i've tried to hang with himself;
on a late morning,
while folding your laundry,
i found him again and held his tongue
when he yearned to speak of love
that once transpired in his passion,
or maybe it was the infatuation
of surrealists: brown skin but touched
upon each other,
marking the insignificant with brands
of remembrance: like the crinkling of
tinfoil or the crisping of smokers' lungs
or the thought that cigarettes are only
romantic if you can witness their glow
or hear them faintly burning—
white ash rests on the dashboard
and his fingers are caked with rust
in my flashbulb drug collections:
the color of blood that's been drying
in my mouth while i try to recall how it felt
to hold someone who might have come
and remained forever breathing
if that letter had never reached my
Glass Half Full Of Emptywaking up on the wrong side of the world,Glass Half Full Of Empty3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
disorganized and incomplete, story of my life.
another bloodshot morning in a city i've quickly grown to hate,
another monotonous day without the things in life i've slowly grown to love.
breaking up the scenery with daydreams,
momentary static distractions from the routine.
i'm wearing the floors thin from pacing wall to wall to wall..
if i threw it all away,
i wouldn't miss a god damn thing about this dead end town.
if i bought a ticket to where you are,
i could be there inside twenty four hours.
what the fuck am i still doing here..
easier said than done when i'm this fucking spun,
but they say where there's a will there's a way,
so i'm looking for a way to cut and run and stay.
my mind tends to wander, you would know better than most,
but it's never gone too long before it finds it's way back to you.
disorganized and incomplete, story of my life,
i know i drive you crazy but you keep me sane, and that's the truth.
so take this for whatever
Another Sleepless NightAnother sleepless night in paradise.Another Sleepless Night3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In dreams, I chase mice,
Anything to soil this sterility.
Sometimes I dream that I'm an astronaut
As my room looks the same.
No widows; sealed door.
Outside it might be beautiful or dangerous.
Reality is the sound of disinfectant
on mop-slapped linoleum
But I'm sure that someone is dying,
Their fragile contents now on the floor.
The fluorescent's light is weak
Like noisy candle light,
But the white paint is too bright
And needs to be dulled.
Somewhere, a baby's cry
Ebbs to shallow breath,
To silent statistic.
And I feel momentary shame in my iron grip.
Sometimes, fragments slip from lips
To join me.
Their owners unconscious or uncaring
Of my fears.
"He never had a chance",
Drifts down hallways with
From some central command.
People hurry like bees
To their assigned routines
But somehow slow--honey drunk
In rubber soles.
It's a consensus that winter is for dying.
I'm reminded of meat preserved in freezers,
But I decide it's th
Froth is another synonym for ScumYou know, it truly baffles me how people like you can keep carrying on with such scotch and guilt-free consciences.Froth is another synonym for Scum2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You put on a dozen disguises a day and I watch you sway, prance, and masquerade with the hearts of all those who think they love the genuine you, and that's including myself, too. How can you not flinch for even a nanosecond at all your fallacious fidelity and flippant ways, even whilst staring me dead-straight in the eyes?
I've heard of souls evicting the corrupted bodies of their owners who have been far too fractured with lies, but you, what you are capable of goes beyond false laughter and cries. Something tells me you've been living without a moral compass for so long that for you to call to mind the meaning of direction and compunction would be deeply dippy.
You are the byproduct of false humility and fraud sympathy- I doubt you have ever felt the sorrow of being scammed and ripped-off while wanting so bad to pour your heart out to a hot, steam-filled cup only for
i miss youwhen you leavei miss you4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am bitter and cold,
like frost around the heart
it's running through my veins
and i am so cold.
i wrap the arms which should be yours around myself. i wait for who should be you. i wait. and there are landslides and volcanoes and ash clouds rising in the sky. and i can only think of you. there are trillions of stars in the night sky, behind the clouds, there are imprints of what once shone so bright and i can only think of you.
there are lovers, and they are so close. and there are lovers, so far apart. there are lovers. and we sunk with the tides. we sunk with the tides and anchored on ocean floors. i can see your smile when i close my eyes, so i close my eyes just for awhile.
but i only open my eyes
to find myself
The CatalystI have thoughtsThe Catalyst2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but I never think.
Underestimation of your affection,
of your jealousy,
I, a breaching whale who breathed too deep.
Like bubble wrap
the air pockets in my lungs are pop, pop, popping;
I am nothing if not lonely air.
My thoughtless mind
so driven by my gullible heart,
too quick to believe you could ever love me
at least the way I love you,
But is this love if I am bleeding?
Your carnivore's touch,
your narcotic smile;
catalysts in my river of veins.
novemberthe sun is a dim pearlnovember2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath a blanket of gray
hung low from the heavens;
i'm your yellow tremor
paled by the cold, aching
for a proper sunrise.
Highway Robberythe stitches run like train tracks across her heart,Highway Robbery2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but it must have derailed because the only sound is her monitor.
i've been awake for four days and nights just watching her sleep,
afraid if i close my eyes she might slip away without me.
her hands are wrapped in plaster casts
and there's still stained glass buried in her face.
her lips are broken and silent, her eyelids are static and braced,
and she's my angel full of staples, my sunshine.
please don't take my sunshine away.
closed my own eyes for only a second,
woke up on the wrong side of the road again,
your room is suddenly full of nurses and you're flatlining.
their voices sound like breaking glass
and the passenger side of a Honda Prelude caving in.
please don't take my sunshine away.
i never even got to say goodbye.
the girl who didn't get shoti am all aches and pains and coffee stains--the girl who didn't get shot3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
am i the smell before rain, the blood in your veins?
my life is composed of memories and scraped-up knees,
failed attempts at surgeries
of my mind and of my heart, of whatever stops me
when i'm trying to start.
i am all the shores they never graze, that haze
when the sun burns rainwater on roads.
i may feel warm but know this--i get cold,
i get frozen stiff and when i'm bent i won't fold.
the marrow of my bones hold blue-grey skies,
murkier than the rampant clouds in your eyes
but when i'm rib-caged i still have someplace to fly.
i am all the forlorn poets, for i've lungs and a tongue,
i'm rung and stung and a song unsung.
there are secret meadows in my mind, with
lacklustre dews and tarmacadams that shine;
it's where the blood of my bruises tastes like wine
and the words in my throat tunefully intertwine.
i am all the streetlights telling you 'no',
telling you to 'slow down', and eventually, 'go' --
am i second hand smoke? does sp
Mendbreathe in, breathe out.Mend3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a picture's worth a thousand wounds
and there's galleries on our sleeves.
blade in, bleed out.
cutting out the imperfections
because there's a crowd to please.
but you're the only one who doesn't know you're beautiful,
and these wounds are not the final word on who you are.
we can grow new skin to hide these scars,
rewrite these broken lyrics and dance to a different song.
breathe in, breathe out.
we're wearing this cycle thin and vice versa.
we've all got demons in our yesterdays,
so tear them out of the calendar pages.
tomorrow is a new diary with your name on the flyleaf,
let's cross our hearts and hope to live.
MilkmoneyThere's a door that needs to be opened, out in the midst of a field of grass. The stars come out and dance about it, beneath the mad violet sky above. I keep waiting. I keep waiting. The closed door on the hill will be opened, and dreams will rush out while confused dreamers rush in. Smooth chaos. Things will be. I keep waiting. I've moved my bed onto the grassy hill to be closer, closer to when the door swings open and freedom flies out. I want to be there, then. I keep waiting.Milkmoney3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all poets are used to deceitare you still savoringall poets are used to deceit3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the taste of deceit
off the edge
of your limerick tongue?
you know what i mean
you "poet of unusual sorts,"
chaotic green eyes
and skin of pale misfortune
leaving scents of sweet seas when oceans
begin to spite you.
yes, your silent panthers,
loyal only to the sound of sonnets
of broken piano chords
and keys and torn six-strings.
those slithe things will
prove to you
that betrayal is just eight letters
of pleasure undercover.
it's these little beauties that
will make you see;
every liar was an artist
and every poet was a whore,
just till the point
they owned you no more.
every limerick was a trap
and every stroke a cry;
and my every little breath,
sweet deceit strolling by.