Dear Poetry,I might be dangerously on the verge of being poetic, but-
Sometimes I don't feel me in my own skin.
I am too many breaks between pulses,
& a heart still living in the autumn of 99.
I'm telling stories about a girl.
A soul made of ink & godly metaphors,
too much for a non-homeostatic body.
There were once fireflies in her smile,
alight between the gaps in her teeth.
love letters carved into wrists
she never sent.
She is Porphyria, & you are her lover.
fly.this is hard for the world around us to grasp:fly.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.
& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.
but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,No wander about it, just lust.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the embodiment of poetry.
& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.
wishes are for the weak-
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.
I think I found God then,
Collection of poetic nothings.We were opal Tuesdays,Collection of poetic nothings.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,
gliding me through this wild youth.
But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings
touched the sun.
My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.
"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.
"Learn to love yourself."
How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?
"I want to replace my heart with you."
You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
limbs traveling this road map
of songbird sin.
You are not just in my head now,
you are dancing in the lingering stars
of my night-witch frame
& setting me on fire.
You're not bruised enough
to write poetry.
Allow these bones to tell your story, Love.
I am trying to be honest,but I write so fucking floweryI am trying to be honest,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it makes me sick,
rose scented stars & love.
Her: helpless as a lamb,
I want raw, aching
bone against bone
exploring the exposed, naked
poetry of her universe-
( warm, celestial hands
forging sandcastle ribs. )
Southern earth beneath her feet,
wanderlust burned like Apollo's touch
into her spinal cord, please awaken
the empty space between her skin
dust.I'm chokingdust.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the ink-dipped fingers
of verbs & metaphors
still lodged in this bruised,
paper crane throat;
of your words,
still kissing my ribs.
How can you judge me-
when you don't bother
to read the naked poetry
beneath the temple of my flesh?
How long can butterfly
ankles hold up a
Don't bother whispering
your secrets to nebulae,
not even the dust in my veins
will listen anymore.
NaPoWriMo: Day 8I was toldNaPoWriMo: Day 82 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to slice through the thickest
of scar tissue this evening.
Let all my inner demons
fall to the floor
& write them out
in my own black blood.
It’s not red anymore,
even though needles
& the bruises
laid out like war-lands
on my arms
I don’t think it ever was,
My mind is a mess
of free versed insecurities,
cat’s eye marbles,
& untamed forest fires-
I still don’t have the nerve
to slice open my skin
& bleed for her.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,August Lover,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
RepossessionYour words tore into my abdomen like vultures feeding onRepossession3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the raw emotion their filthy wings stirred up from the dust.
My ribs cracked from the blow.
But, I think sometimes
of how these were the ribs
that should have chased you away from me,
quietly wondering how you managed to
slither past this cage of bone and flesh
to engrave your fingerprints into my marrow.
You were sweat & spice & scars-
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.
(I want my insides back.)
NaPoWriMo: Day 9More respectNaPoWriMo: Day 92 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for hungry lions,
doesn’t want to write this poem.
As she forgets how to use words
(on most days,)
relying on curses
like casting some witch's spell-
with only ten dollars to her name.
The oldest daughter:
she’s still somewhere in the middle,
because they had no other way
to categorize her.
Getting her first gravestone at three-
not to the gods,
but to the lily stargazers
in her palms.
she would become a bird,
& never come back.
She doesn’t want her death
laid out like a fast-food
how does she begin to explain
cultivating in her breastbone?
The rule of nines.I know more about half-moon palmsThe rule of nines.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
than most know about
the kind that beg dandelion child,
I know about forged castle ribs & broken homes.
Myths that are half fact & imaginary friend
turned bogieman -
Fangs that tear clear through ice-bone hearts
like they are nothing but pretty paper
to be folded over, again & again & again
by the hands of quivering youths:
Icarus, the reincarnated
sky conqueror searching for warmth.
NaPoWriMo: Day 10 Have you ever been so cold, Sweetheart,NaPoWriMo: Day 102 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
your knees q u a k e d like that Jenga piece
that buckled just before your whole foundation
& no matter
how many times
I've restarted your heart,
one would think
I'd grow tired,
I'm still writing you in poetry
(in the most inappropriate of places.)
You forced yourself beneath my blades
& my fingertips,
Licking unstable knees,
you were death on my tongue:
angry apricot eyes, unforgivable sin
scaring my limbs &
haunting my dreams.
& I'd still try to save your fucking life.
I want to forget names,& faces,I want to forget names,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.
Spine full, and spiteful:
I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.
I want to cry for her
& for me.
she wont allow me the courtesy.
astrological.i. On some nights,astrological.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
street lights guide
this lonely heart
to her lonely bed.
ii. In this universe of twilight skin
& mismatched bones,
I wonder just how many poems sleep
beneath the inkwell of her eyes.
iii. My body is a house of stars,
and her palms are black holes
sucking ( me ) into their vortex of
iv. She says, "Please—my moon,
please—give these bones a reason
& I am whispering lovelies
into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.
v. "Goddess temple,
sunset eyes, &
my windowpane love-
Let us eat the stars
ConstellationShe is dream dust,Constellation3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
too bitter or wise
for her own good.
A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.
She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.
& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos
& I orbit her.
astrology.i lost my cigarettes today whileastrology.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sparing kisses to too many witches
with apastron blackberry tongues.
& like the scattered stars of scars,
saturn's rings whispered secrets
to the telescope eyes of these strangers
cradling galaxies between lovely bones-
( their fingertip heat
knowing nothing of intermissions. )
Heart:a rebellionHeart:3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in her chest.
she's got skin
unworthy to write
she tapes those
to her limbs
lub-dubThere are loverslub-dub3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will never be able to
crawl out from underneath;
I’m caving in, lungs
no longer able
to exhale lovely things.
However hollow, I’ve got
these artist hands,
these god hands of mine
that can save lives.
What’s the point
when I’ve got little
& no one can ever seem
to find my pulse?
NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,NaPoWriMo: Day 43 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wildflowers growing on my knuckles,
& I might remind you of every nasty thing
you ever did,
but I don’t see you in my mirror.
I just have the right
to hate my own face.
I think this hitchhiker’s heart
is breaking &
I don’t have the medical skill-
or the time
to suture the pieces
back together again.
I think you left a piece of you in me.This tangled mess you call a heart,I think you left a piece of you in me.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
daisy veins & sin;
She's bringing me down.
& you were merely shivering
pressing winter bones
against my sun-stricken mouth,
darkness searching for a home
buried in my lungs.
You whispered breathe me
lovely in the inhale/exhale
of carbon dioxide suicide.
She speaks only of you now,
lonely & mourning beats-
Crack open this damn ribcage;
NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,NaPoWriMo: Day 23 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have this
sudden urge to cut
most of the time,
i just wish I were anything
other than me.
a rocket ship, a bird-
the sweet flavored smoke
I promised my girlfriend
these briar patch lungs
would not in.hale.
i have fallen in love
with the strangest of things-
eyes that intimidate
the way my scars
play hide and seek
with her hands. -
the love letters
that start and end
pressed against limbs.
i make promises
i know i can not keep.
but if i were a liar
i would say i was tired
of writing to the stars.
Scorpion"Show me your bones."Scorpion3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the atlas of her thighs quaked
as she misplaced her skin
in the backseat of his car.
"I'm a scorpion, you know-"
a messy promise
& she smirked,
sure of her limbs,
her scars, & her teeth.
"I dare you to stake claim to this clavicle."
I'm talking myself in circles,I screamed,I'm talking myself in circles,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"There is nothing
wrong with me, not a damn
I wanted to believe
the big dipper on my arm
meant something more
than sun marks & kisses.
But, how can I trust words
that slip through my teeth
as easy as breathing
when this star
has only ever learned
how to f
Her Musethese words are not poetryHer Muse3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
swimming liquid fire through ashes
of dead phoenix veins.
no, they are rough and callused
with over use, their own faithless artists
spewing black tar from their lungs
in the hopes to one day breathe again.
nothing moves her.
she would rather scribble her heart out
on physical manifestations of her own reality-
on skin and bones she worships like a temple.
"Write of me," he says, "right here."-
planting sun-stricken kisses
along the hollow of her burning throat.
"I want to be where your heart sleeps."
A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,A Gods Debt3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hallowed out, & spit back up,
( you are afraid. )
Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;
god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves
grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.
( spread your legs. )
Red-inked and trembling,
prosetry masked as screams
knots into her anatomy.