Order of OperationsWe're all thieving, polluting criminals, aren't we?
You twist cotton and facades, forming a curtain of
pity me, pity me, pity me
and all the sane want to do is
smother you, smother you, smother you.
We're all thieving, polluting criminals,
if we don't listen to you, if we don't pity you
and I do not wish to pity you.
TidesI tried to stop myselfTides3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from being drawn to you
For a while I had forgotten
but then I spent a few hours with you
and they crushed all semblance of reality
like a fucking bug and I knew
then that I was hopelessly
dead-weighted underwater for you.
Screaming EmphasisI lostScreaming Emphasis2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thirteen pounds of anxiety this week.
Body melted, melted
fingers slipping chartreuse
I am full of slipping
chain-link gums give me lead poisoning
body, gums melted, chartreuse
I, toxic, lick lips neon green
Arsenic tongue dart to nails --
Dirt, dirt, dirt, more dirt --
and thighs stuck hot against plastic
I cannot hold a pen
CANnot write eloquence or beauty
Hand skitters through page
TALKing I need silence I need
need, need, need, more needing
crushed under necessity-
The spaces of my ribs are where
my skin hides its bruises
feel like stealing-
taking hunger into my breast
full of slipping,
I do not breathe but static
Anxiety in Morse Code
we do not-
what SPEAKS makes sense
we do not-
Thighs stuck hot to the seat beneath me
Bones in my aching hand quiver,
wrapped around archaic ideals
why do they touch why do they --
PoisonI tasted your lip-spilled liePoison4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as it stained your red t-shirt.
It flows from your mouth freely before you can stop it.
No - no, don't stop now,
I want to know just how far you can weave.
Before you're entangled.
Your honey-sweetened words flit past your teeth
before you clamp them shut and look at me
your eyes begging me.
Believe this one, just this once, trust me.
I nod and smile, but there's little you can do
to mend my doubts now.
My fixation is shattered on the floor.
Pretty liar, love,
your lies are intoxicating.
Before you know it,
I've been there.
I've no throat.
It's what I get for swallowing ammonia
just to get the taste of dishonesty
out of my skin, my tongue, lips.
Until you swallow ammonia,
be a liar.
Cut Time Dig sonatas into your thighsCut Time3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
knowing that they're never written
for you. The ones written
in the moonlight, reeking of lust
and a cacophony of dissonance,
are the ones your mind screams
Chemical ResolveI still linger in that elegant space between your fingers and your mouth.Chemical Resolve3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And I'm shrewdly vulnerable, careening out expletives against your breath.
You never really figured me out, did you?
Couldn't ever get around this stone-cold, analytical gaze of mine,
dancing across each facial movement as though you were a line in a book.
But stones are never cold; you learned this by shoving my skin into them.
Stones bleed. Stones ache.
Do you ever murmur my name like I, yours?
Lips pursed oh-so-gently in that arrogant pout I used to love.
I hate you, I loathe you. You repel me.
My name grazes your teeth like my tongue almost did one day
like you wanted it to. My name, my name breathes fire dow
LiarYour smile is just as genuine as it was last week,Liar3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I'm still fighting with those thread-thin
self-inflicted stings on my right arm.
I can tell you there is never any blood.
I found another needle in my skin.
There isn't a better word for lonely.
I won't dance again.
My circulation is too poor,
I can't feel my legs.
I'm cold all day.
My fingertips are numb
You can feel them shaking.
I can't wipe that look you gave me from my mind.
It hurt, and I know you didn't want
to let that taint your face
and I said "I'm sorry."
You said "It's fine."
I still don't believe you.
I am terrified of abandonment.
I know you said you won't ever leave me
while I'm awake, like God,
only God's a liar.
I'm in control of myself.
I'm still fighting those visible ribs.
I can tell you the tension isn't friendly
It's not my posture.
Do you know what running water sounds like?
It's in the back of my mind
trickling through my eyes.
at least we can walk together now.
CiceroneShow me another way to think.Cicerone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Show me a paved corridor through the dungeon of my mind.
I want to watch you form words with your lips;
See them take root in your mind and spread up through your throat
and bloom from your tongue. Show me you know what I mean.
Show me a new puzzle, someone I haven't figured out yet.
Motherhood AloneA little boy sits asks,Motherhood Alone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Are you happy mama?"
She turns to him,
smiling dryly like only mothers can,
a grin not quite reaching her tear ducts,
She coughs once replying,
"Of course I am, pumpkin."
He giggles like only small children do,
curls his little hands in hers,
a curly-haired spitting-image
brown-eyed reminder of his father.
In quiet, she cries.
Double DamagedThe cultural cure was felt as she sheared off her hair.Double Damaged3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Persistently, Hatred swallowed the forensic evidence
burying her desperation beneath layers of cotton.
She plastered a behavioral anecdote over torn skin
and vowed not to let them get to her so easily.
She created a personal joke, once consumed by her fear
now showing confidence so bright it almost blinded.
Hatred paused in reflection, accusation a rhetoric,
The tides turned once more against her confidence
They gained another teenaged sacrifice.
Truth and Revelation in the ConstellationsYou know behind the tumultTruth and Revelation in the Constellations3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in your brain lies the secret
to the trajectory of the stars as they fall.
How could it not? Each phase of fantasy
holds some grain of your pain.
A hollow needle pierces a portion of your torso,
a vast, whooshing gulp of air slips
into your lungs and despair instead sates you.
The cant of your hips is bound to the the answer or
a response to the angle of the moon to the tides when it's full.
Or maybe in the splay of your true ribs
resting between your fingers as they stroke
holds a thunderous truth, the
cold betrayal of trust, a heresy,
but burnt filament and dying embers only cause
a very small portion of your scars.
The others are hidden where leaves fall.
They are never meant to be rose red in October,
but here we are, counting the shades found only
in lipsticks, the palm of your hand opened
To catch Orion's Belt in midwinter.
I love you, too, but you'll never know how much I owe you.
You and I dreamt my death.
Cyclical It isn't my fault that I jump when I'm burned or if every swallow feels razor-laced. I can't help but gasp and feel bits of my soul splinter off as I grapple with what it means to be you, to be me, to be forgotten, to feel guilt for being hungry, to feeling like I need steel in my skin to feel whole. I know what happens when I am doused with cool water; the shock reddens my skin so I jump like I do when burned. It isn't my fault. I feel both endless and self-stuck like I need less to tether me down, but more to weight me because I'm filled with helium. I will drown in the anxiety that I've broken me with thirty words exchanged in angry tones over food I wanted for the first time since I could breathe again but you had to say if I ate too much I would get fat with exaggerated hand movements around your middle. Rebelliously, I stood up and told you I didn't care and you took offense like I'd let too much of my helium out without your permission and I felt lower like I had. YCyclical2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ribcage SonataI am the only one here who has died one thousand deaths by my own hand.Ribcage Sonata3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I read them like a hymnal,
burning my skin with assurances I don't really mean and God smiles down at me
as if I've done something right,
as if I've done some time for my sins.
I tell Him to live in my celiac plexus
just to get a taste of what He's molded.
He's a Cheshire-grinner, sipping a gin and tonic
next to me like He has no new appointments
and tells me to come home with Him.
I implored Him to become the wood-grain in the pew under my thighs.
He hummed and murmured that I was too fickle a congregant and would not stay sitting long enough.
He suggested that I should clasp my hands together and pray a little harder.
I countered, telling Him, "Become a woman and see how it is to be born of a Rib."
I sit at the pew and contemplate each
scar I have found upon my flesh and between
each sewn fingertip, and decided I was wrong.
I wanted Him to live in my sinuses; to whine and complain about each change in pres
Thinking, ParalyzedYou caught the pad of your thumbThinking, Paralyzed3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
against your bottom lip, thinking swiftly.
Teeth against keratin and germs and
pulling apart fibers with crude precision,
it's really not a thought process without self-loathing.
You remembered red was your favorite color
when you were young. Overtaken by purple
once you knew how to say it properly.
There's the slightest blip where
you wonder how you went wrong.
You shove it away, tongue darting to wet your lips
Nail varnish tastes like shit;
Your nose scrunches slightly as your tongue scatters
the polish against the roof of your mouth.
You contemplate falling apart again.
Your eyes dart from one corner of the room to the next,
seeing spiders in empty spaces.
Your breath hitches at crawling limbs.
Hands are on your skin but you
don't care as numbness descends and
you're awake again eventually.
Breathing has become aggravating.
The almost-stagnant in-and-out in-and-out
synchronized with your finger-twitches.
Cold sweats are suddenly habitual.
Keeping SecretsLime is your lip color.Keeping Secrets4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your eyeshadow is saphire.
Your eyes are golden
and your voice is agonizing.
Your french manicured nails
leave red scratch marks as you reach for me.
Subtle isn't your nature,
your middle name is sure as hell
But you only told me this secret to keep me
wrapped around your finger
Your mother used your middle name to keep control of you
so now I have it to use it against you.
But you have mine
so maybe we're even.
We'll play rock-paper-scissors in my backyard again
before you take your stiletto heels
my heart out.
I don't bleed.
But as a last utterance
and you cry not out of guilt, but
because you know
just how much I could have
No, it's just that
I would have given you away.
Reality Amongst the AstronautsPoint out all the ways I was inconsistent,Reality Amongst the Astronauts3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hope God will pull me back into reality.
Point out all the ways I am inconsistent,
I don't sleep well alone.
Point out all the ways I will be inconsistent,
I will draw blood.
Give He knew another wave of nausea was coming. He gagged on it. There was no relief for the crawling lurch to his stomach. again his throat spasmed and liquid poured from him like a fucking rainstorm. He was dirty, filthy, worthless. Like food chewed and spat up.Give3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He wasn't good. His fingers clenched into his thighs, digging canyons, creating rivers. Not enough Another storm surge washed up is throat, now burned raw. His chest heaved, ribs flaring out like oars dipping into water. The night changed to dawn with his face pressed to the cool porcelain. The day remained gray as he slept through this mood.
It started once more with scratching, tearing holes into gifts he'd been given, and shredding pictures from the past. His mind flooded and went blank. He didn't fight it this time. Nausea never came.
InsomniaI can think up a safer place for my sticky,Insomnia3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
twisted bones, and find a great cavern for
the gasping load of my oxygen intake.
Safer than this hollowed out body.
Feeling deep red gashes, I know that
my tongue tastes imagined bubblegum.
Anesthesia lasts and lasts.