sleeping dogslet sleeping dogs lie-sleeping dogs6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
do not reach out &
touch his dreaming face,
do not lean close to kiss
his shuttered eyelids;
wait for him to wake &
let time pass
until it is time to love him.
let him rest his weary head
on the arms he wears at home,
cold boston winds
telling him when the
next train comes;
& when he must sleep
in a rusting missouri,
wish him the sweetest dreams.
let sleeping dogs lie
& drift between sleep & awake,
missouri & boston & virginia.
let him sleep unencumbered
& be there endlessly
until it is time to love him.
the vomiting crowd of coney islandthe destructive walls are shadedthe vomiting crowd of coney island8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in grey and i am remembering
every feeling i have forgotten-
i am terrified.
this is a city that never sleeps,
the bones of my chest thrumming
like taxi cabs in the streets,
my fingers shaking
in want for comfort and solace
i am not standing
in lorca's vomiting crowd-
i am his vomiting crowd,
looking high and low
and between my clenched fists
for catharsis and purification,
for the reason of this illness
pressed against my skin,
for the indefinable sickness
i drown in like bubbles of spit
day in and day out.
i fear the restraints
i've placed for myself,
that they may not be the
my first drunk poemwriters write whilst drunkmy first drunk poem8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
because every word
fumbled and smisspelled
comes out beautifully
because of the truth it holds
my ear bleeds from constant burns
and my stomach burns from constant bleeds
because beauty is never enough untouched, it seems,
the way anything i put in me is always too much.
i bled and evoked sympathy tonight.
i drank until i needed a body to stand me straight.
my organs writhed like heathens in moonlight ritual
and i let it shake.
i shook to be honest
but i was never honest enough
to admit from where the vibration came.
i shook with fear
and never, ever being adequate
the commutei keep your kissthe commute7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
under my bed:
i won't lose it
just because you aren't here.
i will hesitate in the spaces
between the weeks
we are together,
and we are
i will write you letters
and gaps and commas
when my head stops spinning
and my pride takes a bow
to the lion of my heart,
and feel the stinging air
seep out of its balloon.
put your (love) affairs in order, dear
and find me under your blankets;
i want the places i know best
to be the ones made of skin,
secretly tucked away
in the crook of your elbow
where my body rests, or
behind your ear,
like a pencil-
i want you to write me words
things i don't know about you that bother me thati wonder what it's likethings i don't know about you that bother me that7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to fall asleep beside you
in a post coital haze,
and to wake in the morning
to run to class.
do you wake me,
do you kiss my forehead,
do we make love again-
i don't know,
and do you wet your toothbrush
before applying toothpaste,
tell me you don't leave the sink running,
it must get awfully tired.
and what do you dream of
when i lie next to you,
blissfully more than just a body;
what will you dream of
a year from now?
please tell me i can fit into
your big picture
as easily as i can fit into
barcelona is burningi owe you an apology-barcelona is burning11 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
you, in the crowd,
the one panicking about reading
or the mess at home
or the sheer volume of people
pressing into you like corners;
the woman who birthed me into this world
through hours of agony
as though that wasn't enough
because doctor appointment after therapy appointment after residential stay after thirtieth pound lost,
i've put you through countless
warped into months of agony
you never asked for;
and you, oh, mostly you.
you, because as hard as i've beaten my own heart into the wall,
and as deep as i let you bury mine,
i know, somehow, i managed to do the same to you.
personificationi am a whisper no one else can hear.personification1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
yes, your butt looks huge,
yes, he will leave you
if you tell him how you really feel,
and no, you are never enough.
just because only you can hear me,
it doesn't mean i am any less real.
i will tint everything you see
like a pair of cheap sunglasses
with one lens opaque
so that you cannot see anything clearly
and your perception is skewed.
i am in the pilot's seat
and you will be mine
the second you let your guard down.
your heartstrings will connect my piano strings
as i hammer them down and knot with pain;
i will break you to your knees
and hit them to the pavement
like a child in the
unending, ceaselessnothing existsunending, ceaseless6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
than the moment
by the sway
and we talk
of each others' tongues
in the connection
only to retie
alpengloweverything hard-kept in the heart is falling onto paper. each word so well-fought to be kept within the chest becomes a snowflake from november skies, but the winds are unseasonably warm and a fire is kindled inside each bone in place of a bitter chill.alpenglow6 months ago in Emotional More Like This
there are ten thousand things i can never tell you.
the way that wars are fought, i wage battles among my selves to keep the quiet. you will never hear my voice, too soft like the pillow beneath your head each time our bodies find each other, say how my breath becomes a porch swing when we touch and i sway.
i can never call you by any name, given at birth or given by heart. you will neve
scattered grassrootsi am the great plains-scattered grassroots7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i begin losing my hair and
i am tumbleweeds lost in the wind,
tumultuous dust storms
from the dryness i leave you in.
this becomes my skin.
i miss having someone
to tell i love,
but the ache it left in my bones,
deserts and sands,
is reminder enough
that fond remembrance
doesn't mean it's
a letter to ethanyou're fifteen minutes away.a letter to ethan5 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
that's a quarter of an hour, that's ten miles, that's space enough that i never have to see you again.
but still i feel my heart beating like a rabbit's foot against my rib.
i'm a girl still in denial
of being a woman with
breasts and hips and a womb.
i'm a child with my heart and i will surrender it foolishly
to the first boy to give me roses and push them into my hair.
i don't know how to love,
the way i don't know how how to stop.
but let me tell you this- it happens.
they both do.
i loved your fragile brown eyes like i'd never seen a warmer fire.
i sank my bones like an anchor to
across, a crossi like the things that go unspokenacross, a cross1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
between you and me,
like the night we spent on the beach
lying cramped on a shitty, five-dollar walgreens towel
with another frayed over us,
and hearing the string
of intoxicated teenagers walk by and say,
they're watching the stars at night.
and no matter how much that girl,
clearly filled to her brim
with vodka as she tripped along the sand,
she spoke something more beautiful
than a van gogh painting.
we were romance, we were god,
and i know i must believe in god
because of the feeling building in my bones
when i see those "jesus saves" signs,
black with white let
constellations are just bodiesyou left me in my bed-constellations are just bodies8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i was crying-
when you walked down my stairs
for the last time.
you were to spend the night-
you lived hours away-
until you told me
you couldn't do this
i was fine-
you were just a constellation-
until your words
forced images of my last love
before my mind's eye.
i cried before you-
i hadn't cried in months-
but i didn't cry for you.
in retrospect, as you closed my door-
it was the last time-
my only thought is
why didn't we fuck
before saying goodbye?
the saturday after your birthday is where i foundbefore you there was an incessant need to be touchedthe saturday after your birthday is where i found6 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but for no longer than the time it took to touch, sweat, and moan
and never by the same hands twice;
for vacancies to be filled
and to never have an empty bed when sleep finally came.
when i found you it was dark and i was drunk.
it wasn't a story built for the centuries,
but we will be the lovers whose names are remembered for the years to come,
tied and woven in song and into the bodies of trees, we will be so in love
that the angels above will cry in jealousy because in my haze,
heavy and raw and with everything burning inside me, i'm afraid i fell in love that night.
christmas doesn't have to be lonelythis is the first christmaschristmas doesn't have to be lonely5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have not spent alone;
when i have had arms,
sand-specked like the beach
and as encompassing as it is
to my body (of water, my ocean),
waiting to hold me
and steady my waves
there will come a day
that i am so fully loved
that the effulgence mimics and empty room
and the engulfing fire
exudes the warmth missed
in the winter snow
in which i am kissed
this is the year
that my endless yuletide wishes
have been made.
this is the year i am christmas lights,
(again and again and again)
spoiled little girli have turned my bodyspoiled little girl7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
into a void
so that i can love
instead of my heart.
i feel nothing
so i feel nothing
but your skin has not
in a week
and it has me
loves completely vanilla,
though there once were poems
of red clay and sun;
kisses with no ridges
and i cannot seem to
find a way to stay captivated;
touches when i cannot remember,
so i run
when i see the silhouette of his face,
like nightlights or fireflies
of a dark room
i seem to have almost
i think you have spoiled me terribly
because i feel nothing
before georgia takes you againbefore georgia takes you again9 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
romanticism is such bullshiti don't understand a bitromanticism is such bullshit4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
what's so romantic
about missing-you and distance,
love stressed and strained like string
across miles of roping rivers;
it's ugly and sad
and there is no cure
because i will not wait by the letterbox
praying daily on my knees to a god i know i believe in but i'm not sure you do
to hear word from you-
that you're well;
that you're happy;
that you're eating and sleeping and feeling alive;
that's what i want, you know-
i want your vitality to blaze like the great chicago fire,
i want to see your scrawl emboldened with each word
i want to see you concretely on your feet
and certain of where you are going
without a ser
mother.i'm not exactly a person-mother.11 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
more like a body
filled up with
things i never should've known
and things i never could've said.
and i wonder what you'd do
if i could.
so i tell strangers, i tell you,
because i'll never have to
look you in the face
or see your eyes hide
behind walls that never had to be built-
there are bodies buried in those, you know.
i never wanted any of that.
the way i never wanted to be the girl
who ran away from womanhood as it approached,
because adolescence was so much sweeter
at four feet tall.
i sprouted breasts in panic.
my limbs stretched and the pains at night
weren't just from growing pains- they
first weekend and realisationsyou begin to talkfirst weekend and realisations8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
because talking means that
someone else can't
&you start to realise
(as most girls do)
that you have a boyfriend
he's not just a boyfriend;
he's your boyfriend
&he's not just better than
anyone else in the world
he's better than
anything else in the world
&you would trade years off your life
to spend a little longer with him
or to see him smile when he's sad
or to feel his face in your hair
the way he does when he hugs you
&you can't feel it
because right now he's too far away
but distance is only the space between
point a and point b
between you&between me
&if you give it just a little more tim
revelations in the mudi only want to fall in loverevelations in the mud10 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
if someone is there
to fall with me.
i want to jump from high places
and pretend i'm flying,
i'm a bird, i'm light enough at-fucking-last
for the air to catch me,
and the harsh grounds beneath me?
can't touch this.
but i'm earthbound
and parachutes will not work
if you do not open them,
and i am just so sick
of feeling like maybe,
becoming an abstract painting
on the rocks below, would be enough...
but there is something beating in my chest.
i'm very afraid of what it is.
and i don't know a lot,
like the size of the universe.
or why you sought solace in the south.
or how i came to be in this cr
sandstormthere is sand in my teethsandstorm5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
from days i don't remember;
hot-sun deserts singeing
the hairs on the back of my neck,
feet back from burns:
i know what it's like
playing with fire.
i know how to perch
like birds on my thin toes
along a wire,
i know the electricity
coursing through the rubber,
a centimetre from death:
i have yet to fall.
on precarious precipices,
i am wondering if my wings still work,
or if i've purged them out;
if they've atrophied from my back,
or filled with bile.
the sand shifts
and i am looking at bone.
a skeleton, full and articulate.
the desert has charred him black;
his skin has
if people didn't filter their emotions and justthrowing yourself onif people didn't filter their emotions and just8 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
floors doesn't fix anything,
but it sure seems to.
virgin culturethere's a little more to love than lustvirgin culture10 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and a little more to a person than a label.
you can try to sum me up in five words or less and you'll find those words,
but you won't be able to reduce me to them.
you can't turn me into something that can be thrust,
down the grapevine
when there's something more to me than the colour of my eyes or the size of my chest.
and that's something we could all do with remembering.
but this is the culture we were born into.
where the length of your hair is more important than the sincerity of your words,
and nothing matters as much as the kardashians' latest scandal or talking some hot c