One dose of glitterOne dose of glitter can light up the world
One little thought can bring back little girls
Fairies and dragons and strong, worthy knights
One dose of glitter can shine through the night
Hush, little girl, for the stars in the sky
Shining so sweetly like your stunning eyes
Don't let the nightmares define what you'll be
Notice the beauty within every dream
Hush, little girl, there is no need to fight…
One dose of glitter to light up the night.
These Two HandsThese two hands,These Two Hands3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
so pale and small,
they'd do wonders
to have it all.
They're filled with hope
and so it seems,
the world craves
their thoughts and dreams.
These two hands
are working hard.
from the start.
They give their all
to each creation.
These two hands
are shaking now
you hurt them
using words somehow.
Scarred with paint
and bruised with ink,
they seek support
yet slowly sink.
These two hands
fought to improve.
But all you did
but you mean
These two hands
with growing rage,
yearn to fly out
of your cage.
Palms are burning,
Salvation' s coming
black as pitch.
These two hands
now cold as ice,
deprived their vision
of your lies.
Blood is dripping
down my thumb,
dropped the razor,
These two hands,
won't feel no more
the world is left
to be a bore.
But art will come and art will go.
So while you hate
and while you mourn,
these two hands
will be reborn.
Not AgainI stand up, only to be pushed down againNot Again4 years ago in Scraps More Like This
I fight back, only to be beat down again
I breathe in, only to be drowned again
I swim up, only to be sunk again
I walk forwards, only to be dragged back again
I try to run, only to be caught again
I try to be accepted, only to be rejected again
I've struggled too much,
I'm tired of getting up
This time...I'll stay down
Divinely BrokenI'm divinely broken.Divinely Broken2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
It's hard to let go
of someone you love
to choose to let them be happy,
over choosing to try to make yourself happy.
selflessness has never been too difficult
but when one has devoted so much into something
that never was meant to happen
it destroys the intertwined inner hopes,
that had such a massive toll
I could choose to let myself be depressed.
I could choose to cry a thousand times.
I could choose to let the twist of fate consume me
Like it did once before.
But not anymore.
I'm broken free from all chains
that the demons have viciously wrapped,
around the core of my soul
the prince of pain may have owned me once, but he's not going to have me again.
Never is he going to own me again.
I belong to God. His power and so deeply empowering love
has never been so attractive.
Everything happens for a reason
I am divinely broken, purified.
My eyes have been opened to the goodness in man
a type of goodness that I never saw before in my life.
The goodness I co
Goodbye (Maybe We'll Meet Again)This is very unfortunateGoodbye (Maybe We'll Meet Again)1 year ago in Scraps More Like This
I’m disappointed in you
But don’t worry yourself much
I’m disappointed in me, too
I dearly miss something that,
To begin with, never existed
These memories of back then
Will always remain twisted
My hopes have foundation
On loose and crumbling ground
My desires are secured
Under the surface where I drowned
The noose around my neck
Is tied by my own hands
For I can’t go back in time
To change my failed plans
This present is tainted
With unfulfilled dreams
Your memory, like a ghost
Haunts with promising schemes
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned
If there’s one thing to note
My past is not something
On which I will dote
So, before I leave you
This you should know:
Trees have scars, too
But they’re still willing to grow
Wounds need oxygen
In order to mend
If they’re covered by gauze
Time of healing extends
The past is the past
You should let it lie
We all make mistakes
Spread those wing and fly
Our failures a
SolsticeOnce upon a time, when you were still sunlighthouses and shimmering existence wherever you were needed most, you found him. He was November, shaky on his first last legs, and you saw through the mind-twistings he feigned to the mind-twistings that were really there, knotted up in his dreams.Solstice4 years ago in Scraps More Like This
You were still birdsong then, and thunderstorms, and your bodyheat melted the frost claws that held him tight. You held onto him as his November deepened. When he howled, you howled with him, and the wind played with your voices and pressed the softness of your lungs against your cageribsand then against each other's.
November became solstice, and you felt him shiver through that long night and didn't mind the coldbitten nails that grazed your skin. He slept when the moon drowned below the treeline, but the iceflakes began to drift in like small animals seeking the pulsing riverheat of your blood, and chilling you. He lay there, vulnerable as his world turned slowly towards the light, and you
concessioni.concession2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
and then it wasn't the repurposed fires
but the transfixed regime
the woman imagining rain
in all the countries that occupy her lover's heads
(reminder: i was promised this winter)
something about the myth of the soul
carried by immigrants of an obsolete paradise
(were these visitors astronauts?
her voice goes on about mountains
her voice goes on
in this hemisphere the dispatches
beleaguered with the sharp wheat hills
the violet moons of their home
began drying up.
no satellite was capable.
there is a broken country between us
In Lieu of FlowersThe citrus district glows like experiment-In Lieu of Flowers3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
canvas upon canvas, the smell of fallen Spanish empire
reassembled from the rows of orange that move
like the sovereignty of the pacific.
Coming upon the cemetery; endowment lost to a city;
the yellow, the yellow the yellow.
roamin'i named him charlie.roamin'6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
charlie was the sort to sit on the concrete rather than the bench three feet away because it was ironic, his guitar case under his shoes and a cardboard sign on his lap that read, "roamin'." charlie was maybe twenty, with too many deceased train tickets and copper-plated coins turning in his jeans. i would bet the contents of his pockets that he couldn't remember where his hometown was anymore, what his mother's face looked like, or why he left.
i wanted him to hold his sign the other way, i wanted to see if there were more permanent-marker words scrawled on the back. i wanted it to say, 'drive me somewhere,' or 'take me to the west coast, take me back east.'
i wanted to drop my shopping bags and throw open my passenger door and tell him to jump in. his guitar case would go in the backseats and he'd kick his feet up on the dashboard and leave muddy traction prints along it.
i'd tell him to empty his pockets, see what he's got, make him chip in for gas money. i'd dr