Passionate SovereigntyI'm so tired of writing love stories;
when I've not had one of my own.
I'm so weary of pretending I'm beautiful;
when my looks could turn a man to stone.
I'm so fatigued waiting for my prince;
when I'm not even a princess.
I'm so sick of pretending to be a siren;
when I could barely pass for an enchantress.
I'll tear down this repulsive prison of a
they call the mind,
brick by hideous brick;
and write my own fairytale at last.
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,Her Aesthetic Crusade2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"
PulsateWhat is a heartbeat,Pulsate2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?
What am I,
DreamDon't ever stop feeling what you want to feel. Reel in all the emotions you care to hold deep inside you, and nurture them within your heart. Embrace the sensation of being the only one to truly change your future, as long as you shove past all your doubts and reach the highest capacity your fingers can brush against. Advance towards your goal with your courage for a sword, justice for a shield, and all your hope forging the rest of your armor to brave every adversity you face. Make your passions you have in life happen, as long as you remember to accomplish one simple act.Dream2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mute TranslucenceShe is trapped in a glass boxMute Translucence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One which follows her every move
It is always caging her in
With invisible walls so everyone can see her inside
Yet barriers so thick no one can hear her pleas
A cry of desperation rises up from her crystalline prison
A lamenting wail so loud it threatens to shatter the mirrored bulwark
"Why won't anyone listen to me?
She listens for a response
As the crowds continue to rush past her enclosure
All brushing against the invisible walls
All seeming to forget she's there
There is no acknowledgement to her despondent appeal
but s i l e n c e
Written AnatomySkin like dehydrated parchmentWritten Anatomy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blood like deluged ink
Sink a blade into the seamed veins
And let the words of life all flow free
lost.Wandering,lost.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
waiting for your voice to
reach out for mine.
Fingertips of satin,
caressing the confines of my
whispering a thousand constellations to my waning sanity.
Promises upon promises,
mosaic labyrinths etched into mutilated
Trembling lips — July's blasphemous sun
lingering above December's intangible moon,
and these looking-glass limbs scream for your
tongue to shatter me into one million
Rose eyelashes; iron thorns and liquid petals
flutter open to the dull luster of our
and in the end, your nebula fades away
in the disintegrating morning, just like my [heart] broken
For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,For You2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.
The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.
These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
as long as you know their universes.
Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.
You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words shall turn
heartstrings to gold.
Freedom is the only chain you must break in half,
life is the only prison you must escape from,
and the truth is the only lie you must forget.
Vengeful phantoms in a corporeal form walk the earth;
humanity will spite you for you let
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, downWelcome to Wonderland2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
curiouser and curiouserseventeen years &curiouser and curiouser1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
still chasing white rabbits,
it's no wonder i've never
been in love.
we're all mad here;
no one can find the road to
(i don't know
where to go)
let's fall down a hole.
(i'm just a chrysalis
with no butterfly wings)
off with my head when it
can only imagine nonsense
& clockwork hearts.
give me a cheshire's smile-
i want to know
what it feels like
to be in wonderland.
They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless handsThey say beauty is only skin deep,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?
-My mind-2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
s h u t u p.
Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
drip off this
Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.
So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.
I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.
Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.
This shattered heart
only wants to make it
and become one again.
"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But why won't this stop?"
"Why can't you make it stop?"
"...it's not my fault."
Say what you want to say. Honest brutality.
"H E L P M E"
It's time for me to
s h u t u p.
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
TemporalI am the yesterday waiting for my tomorrow,Temporal2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you are the future waiting for your past.
Let us correspond our oscillating hearts,
hidden behind adamantine bastions,
and together we shall fabricate a new
CapriciousWords have becomeCapricious1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
tasteless to me,
like rotten apples
fit for the worms.
it feels as
though I am
pirouetting my way through
a ballroom full of
tongues made for poetry.
wicked witch when
you need one?
All I seem to do is
dream while I'm awake and,
if we're being honest,
I was never much of an alluring tale
in the first place.
Deux ex machinaMaybeDeux ex machina1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
you should start being more
honest with yourself.
You will never be a
a sunspot on the
moon; only fallen
heroes belong there,
and your life wasn't
pitiful enough to
cavort with the stars.
The gods love a
good tragedy, but only when
they're the ones
writing the playbill. It
isn't any fun when the actors
forget their lines and
(better draw the curtains
before the performance morphs
into a comedy)
You say "I'm sorry" but in
reality the only thing
you're apologizing for is
leaving before the show
ended and reading the
wrong horoscope that day.
NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heartNecromancy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
dug your bloodstained claws into your
and tore out that infestation you called a
"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
I could only watch as you sunk back down into
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'
a poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mindit isn't like i'ma poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mind6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
lazy or anything it's just that
the thought of getting lost
in a crowd of ten or more people
makes me want to puke.
this is not just some
stupid little hang-up that you can
joke about when i'm
digging my fingernails into my palm so
hard that blood is drawn as we walk through
school hallways so packed that it feels
like we're suffocating from too much
oxygen but i just grit my teeth and
laugh "yeah, i know, i just don't like
being around people sometimes."
but you know,
there's just something about the way
my mother says "go out and have a life
and stop looking like the world
betrays you every day"
that makes my stomach drop
or when my dad looks at me and just
sighs, like they've finally realized
i was never good enough to be
and to everyone who believes that
i just need to relax,
to just calm down and think:
fuck you. fuck you for trying to pretend
like you know how it feels when my
bones grind together like broken
gears as i walk by people who may
A Scholarly MasqueradeSometimes I like to pretend,A Scholarly Masquerade2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm like the Mariana Trench with my words.
That my fingers construct such eloquence,
as abyssal and profound as the Grand Canyon.
Yet the truth of the matter is that,
my heart has not been pulverized into dust.
I am about as succint and poignant,
as a rusted bucket.
Flights of FancyI believe inFlights of Fancy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings
I believe in
in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought
I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and immature for believing in
However, I simply say to them:
"I just still have my imagination, is all."
Ode to BrasOh bra, dear bra,Ode to Bras1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
such close friends we are.
Never straying by my side,
never going far.
But bra, dear bra,
I must confess it this day:
At times you can be painful,
and my skin tends to flay.
Oh bra, dear bra,
why must you be so conflicting?
Meant to hold up females modestly,
yet force us into awkward itching.
So bra, dear bra,
I am afraid I must ask:
For being such a wondrous garment,
why must you be such an ass?
Oh bra, dear bra,
so tenacious around our chests.
Would it kill your rigid fabric
to alleviate our suffering breasts?
Yes bra, dear bra,
I mean my words today.
Kindly stop your aches and pains
or a dirty game I'll be forced to play.
Oh bra, dear bra,
I wish it this truth to not be so.
If only you were reasonable
and rid us of our feminine woe.
wild thingsthere are days iwild things1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
want to run with wolves.
to howl at the stars because
the moon has never done
anything for me, and swallow roses
like their thorns never
but this cage -
it seems there's no way
and i fear it's
for anyone to hear me.
life is just a zoo full of
all our monsters, and
[it's our fault] we
It's an unrequited love, isn't it?I know you will never read this.It's an unrequited love, isn't it?2 years ago in Letters More Like This
I know you will never get the chance to even catch a glimpse of this.
But I just want you to know that I love you.
You're perfect to me. I don't care about your flaws. I don't care about the faults that everyone else always seem to point out.
I really don't care.
What matters to me is that you are you. And because you are you, I love you.
I just wish you could love me back.
I just wish you could say the same words to me--to make me believe that I'm not the worthless thing I see in the mirror every day.
I just wish you could be here, comforting me when I need it, and telling me you love me over and over again. I promise I would never get tired of those three simple words:
"I love you."
But how can you love me back?
You're not even real.
.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven..2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.
Where has all my writing gone?
It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, nothing happens. And then, just as quickly as my urge to write appears, it is gone in a flash—and all I can do is slump forward and hope that maybe next week I'll get something productive done.
My fingers halt in their endless assault of the keyboard, and my eyes slide up to scan the nonsense I've created on the bright screen. It's n