Easter (and the space of you)At 30, I chaseEaster (and the space of you)2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cola with chocolate
and tears, and I build
a new lifeline--
the space of you
not filling, simply
(17 years of echoes
could never erase you from me
and i still look for the man
you could have been
and the boy
you never were--)
because at 13, I chased
peace, wished for
the ending of you
and it came. I opened
a new wound--
Jesus dying on the cross
and you in his arms
instead of mine.
this is not a suicide notewhat would change if i left?this is not a suicide note2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
would you wear your sadness
like a bullet-- raw and fresh and
slung, chafing, into solemn chambers;
or would you swallow it down
to poison your lungs,
steal your breath & dissolve
the remnants of me?
would you smoke yourself out,
a pyre of anger in one fist
smouldering with resentment--
unfueled but hot and bright and
burning our love to ashes;
or would you hang it,
trailing, coiled around your neck
where it will catch, untenanted,
on shards of me and tighten
to choke you?
would you throw in the towel
and jump, too, unfettered
without my soul;
or would you just breathe butterflies,
an exultation of relief and gratitude?
i am not splotched ink and tallied memoryiii.i am not splotched ink and tallied memory2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to all i endured,
unclothed, i wear (still)
ragged designs of ink
thrown at a canvas &
lines carved-- a prisoner's
tally of time.
stumbling over the
caverns and crags
of my skin,
your eyes travel
in halting progression--
[the crawl of a climber
down, down, down]
i feel your stutters,
a shivering- first
along one arm--
[almost a polka-dot
tap dance taking in
splotched ink and
then an intensification
of graveyard fever
upon the other--
[dash past the ink &
exhume the feeling
beneath the sleeve].
it is a shame
(and your loss)--
you cannot see the woman
beneath these scars.
Naught but Words..Naught but Words..6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There are naught but words
That rummage through my rattled brain
An attempt at madness so I may find an excuse.
Of solitary vicissitude that cankers like an open wound,
It festers with this ingrain of pain.
A light I hope, for one that shines.
A guidance that beckons all hope beyond the irretrievable.
And yet, in my longing - I become disillusioned
The mask upon my face is thick.
I cannot breath.
Like vines of weathered and twisted fate,
Im bound by this darkness that consumes.
As we all are, in terms of a degree and yet
The prison I am shackled within
Consumes as it does inhale,
And leaves nothing but dust.
If there was a wish. One wish I could have.
It would be to feel a love that cherishes the heart.
A cadence of decadence that would forever light my soul.
A chance at a truth
A dream that is beyond my grasp.
For I wake in empty silence,
That drowns me in its sordid pallor
And arms that no longer exist.
There are naught but words
That rummage through my rattled brain.
Composed Upon an Abandoned SofaWe refuse to wake; trapped in pharma-sleep.Composed Upon an Abandoned Sofa1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This place is as worn as the clothes we wear -
Look at the beauty of it all laid bare.
Our flesh and limbs lay still, knotted in heaps
Of spit and blood. Our narco-coma lies -
We have nothing but red eyes, skin ice-fair,
Our thoughts are stifled by the blackened air.
We are helpless - scarred at the mouth and eyes.
Here we crash, together. In smog we steep
Our secret, buried away from the sky
Amongst the ash, the phlegm and comrade flies
We'll sleep 'til one of us, from the gloom, cries
That these beautiful things, their scent and glare,
Are too scarce to sate our thirst for the deep.
ApathyLifeless, in arms of dreadApathy6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That sink and pull toward a pit so deep
Ether of its pallid gaze,
Shifts in momentum to slither hope.
The gargantuan leap to where no resolution lies
A fading figure of null, in void.
Lost and aching
Misguided by a reality no longer in vision
A pain so true, it goes unheard
To where a rose withers to naught.
A petal of dust, destined for shame
In where she lies, within the realm
Of blurred sensation that numbs a soul
And envisioned bouquets of hapless moors dance.
In silence she has become
In death she has lived
And in life, she had decayed to where a solitary vision
Unique to her own
Pulls its strings and guides her to the distant shore.
While a laden heart, in weight does tug
The tides of strength beyond her duty.
Wallowing in a depth of darkness
And grasped by hands of time
Toward the emptiness of her truth revealed.
Where love does die,
And thoughts of him dissipate
Like dust on the wind
And a bitter taste not resolved.
Carpe DiemTell me again:Carpe Diem2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I want to hear about
the colours you carry
beneath your skin
and the way your parents betrayed
the promise nested
in your chest.
Tell me again that brokenness
skips a generation in your family-
that you are made whole
once the old generation passes,
and the way your mother decays
is an assurance
Tell me again that oaths sworn
will protect you
and the ways you've fallen,
a flattened souffle,
will stay secret--
when the evening breaks
and washes you clean,
still you will wear your sins.
Tell me again
and live anyway.
It'll Start All Over AgainIt'll Start All Over Again8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Watch the blade as it streams by.
Curling blood like crimson lace.
Try to make it day to day…
Feel the scars as they enhance.
Stare at the blood and skin as they mesh.
Screech as the cuts sear your self esteem.
Then watch the blood drain into scabs…
It'll start all over again.
ClosureMother, I remember you that late nightClosure5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my first one-bedroom.
Your sudden urgency when I phoned
about the lacerations --
my own flux and reflux, growing
steadier and more sure as death
and the darkness grew --
shocked my distrust, and I left
the front door unlocked.
Of course I meant I wouldn't
stop until you came to me
and sopped the grieving pools,
sanguine, from the tile,
the carpet, my bare arms and legs.
Your firm, easy touch stopped
rivulet and rivulet again, the cuts
deep enough to require pressure.
I like to believe you would have
sutured them shut, had the gaping
wounds continued open.
Found"You're nobody."Found2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lost in worlds of 'no's and nothingness
"Something" to see inside
I looked back and found:
AwarenessThey all bow to the same refried themes,Awareness2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
sandwiches disguised as canapes for the industry
touting hope and wanting us to write
or draw or paint or just damn create
as long as it's hopeful and pleasing and
shows something positive because
God forbid the public see
the way it really is:
instead of a fancy appetizer
I am eating a soggy slice of stale bread
topped with cheese gone plastic
after a full minute
in the zapper-
because I got distracted and forgot
until the timer tinged and the cheese fizzed,
spitting grease and oil,
because my attention fled and for a moment
just a moment
breathing was too hard.
Everybody's learning that this could be them,
it could be their mother or brother or cousin
their grandfather or niece or child
breaking up on the inside
scattering into a jigsaw of caviar and moldy herring
and nobody wants that for their family,
nobody wants that darkness in their lives.
Oh, the caviar's fine --
everybody wants to think of those they love
as brave or strong o
Daddy, you've drunk enoughDaddy, you've drunk enoughDaddy, you've drunk enough2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Daddy, people will laugh
Daddy, one question I ask:
Daddy... will our car crash?
I think you're too heavy, or am I too weak?
Because your weight on my arms, it's pushing down on me
And people look at us when you fall down on the street
I am ashamed, but I am still here
Daddy, why do you drink?
Daddy, is it because of me?
Daddy, did I hurt you somehow?
Answer me! I need to find out!
I feel so guilty, maybe it's my fault that I couldn't help you
Maybe if you had another child you would find a way to stop
I have dissapointed you, 'cause I'm not perfect
And it's killing me inside
Daddy, I know I'm a trash
But please, daddy, please, leave this glass!
Daddy, you're breaking my heart!
I'm so torn apart
Self Reliant.Self Reliant.8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Mama really loved me,
And mama tried her best,
But all her time and money
Was spent on beer and cigarettes.
Daddy tried to love me,
And daddy tried to stay,
But I wasn't born a boy for him,
And daddy moved away.
Mama's boyfriend loved me best,
He promised he would change,
But when the rum dripped to his lips
His screams became my pain.
Big sis used to protect me,
'Till mama's boyfriend came around;
Then every night she left the house
That Hell to which I was bound.
God said I meant the world to him,
And promised to be with me;
But when I needed him the most,
He was no where to be seen.
When daddy asked me to live with him
I was happy to be free,
But playing house with him and his wife
Was like imprisonment to me.
Daddy wanted to help me,
'Cause he knew that I was Broked,
So daddy called the theripist
And shoved prozac down my throat.
Mama felt deserted,
And mama cried and cried.
I promised her it'd be okay,
Though I knew that was a lie.
All the while my skin grew pink
From the d
Deal with itWe have D.I.D.Deal with it2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We are not fake or made up.
We are not a set or a cyborg.
We are a family.
We just happen to share a head.
Yes, that means we don't have a clear past.
Yes, that means life isn't all flowers and rainbows.
Life isn't always nice.
We aren't mad.
Dissociative Identity Disorder is how our brain chose to deal with our past.
So you deal with it too.
Can't Stop MeI cut with a blade,Can't Stop Me10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You took it away,
You didn't know what you were getting into
I picked up a bottle,
Smashed it on the ground,
Carved with the shards of that instead.
When you found out,
You removed all the glass,
Gave me plastic instead.
So I tore at my skin,
With my fingernails,
Still drew blood,
Only harder now.
You didn't like this,
So you cut my nails right back.
I threw myself against the walls,
Punched them as hard as i could,
Breaking my fists and destroying the room.
You lined them with matressess,
To make them soft and useless.
So I tore out my hair,
Great chunks at a time.
You bought a straitjacket,
Made me wear it so I couldn't move.
You removed everything that i could use to hurt myself,
To stop eating.
You didn't like this idea of mine
So you forced a tube down my throat.
I tore it out but you put it back in.
I promised to eat
But i threw it up.
You watched me for hours
To stop that little trick
I drove my car off a cliff
In a final act of
Bury Me (In White)"I'm living backwardsBury Me (In White)2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
so bury me
I will reclaim
The funeral is a small affair, ungarnished and over early. There mainly out of obligation and the need to be seen doing the right thing, the mourners are a motley assortment of relatives who are quick to kiss cheeks, and even quicker to take their leave. None of them felt the need to dissect this empty place in our lives that he once filled, and after only 2 hours, the only people remaining at the gravesite are myself, my sister, and the empty cage of his decaying bones, buried deeply beneath our feet.
Her fingers are swollen, like her face, and we both know she will soon follow him. "When it's my turn," she whispers, "bury me in white."
Her curls damp against her face, my sister adjusts the baby without stopping. Her feet are always in motion, as though she can build safety for this family as long as she never stays still, and all that's left for me is to watch. She is 14 years old, living her life backwa
fifteen summers + stormswept featherswake, in mermaid lake,fifteen summers + stormswept feathers1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
(see albert's eyes
in a bearded bear)
this melting pot
is a cosmic latte,
and the three laws of emotion
are forest fires and roses
to the escapee of a terrible love.
wake up, elijah!
your strange exit
is a coffee shop confession.
If you drink enough vodka it tastes like loveHe’d whisper sweet nothings to treesIf you drink enough vodka it tastes like love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hoping the roots would remember his name
I watched him drop pieces of himself like bread crumbs
His lantern limbs quivering
I don’t think he ever really knew how lovely he was
And on a sunny day when the pavement was sweating
Out onto the roadside
Everyone else found out too
I don’t think I’ll ever forget him because he was like a dream catcher
So quiet and magical in the way his eyes turned green in the dark
And blue in the winter
Like he stored the world’s secrets behind his cuckoo spit heart
for lack of a simile --every saturday,for lack of a simile --6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i scribble away at words
that have prettyyellowcolours, but mean nothing.
because if i told you what was true about the both of us, it would be:
we had something special,
but now it's gone.
because i don't have any clever similes about
magic and love and how fire falls into ash.
there's just me, and the page, and the stories
i tell you about how we are fire, we are the ocean
and we are the shore.
to the boy with ghost handsdear boy with the ghost hands.to the boy with ghost hands4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are in my bones, sir.
waiting beneath my pale skin
inside the charcoal grey
leaving me to feel you
send morse code vibrations
throughout my entire body
leaving me speechless
my bones are asphalt grey
but with a hopeful
but with you here
it never stops raining
and i now know
what drowning feels like
but you still wont leave.
even with these raging waters.
you float and carry on
though to another part of me.
just re locating.
please, the rains getting
to heavy and my lungs are collapsing
and i cannot breathe.
from the girl who cannot let you go anyway.
Writing mental illness (a short guide)When incorporating mental illness into a piece of literature, the most important tool you need to use is research. This is true whether you want the mental illness to play a large part OR a small one, and it is true whether you know someone with mental illness or not. In fact, it's even true if you have the illness yourself, because no two people are the same, and your character may display different facets to you due to contributing factors like experience and personality.Writing mental illness (a short guide)2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
That said, research is not the first thing you should do, because before you get stuck into that research, you need to look at WHY you want to include mental illness in your literature. If you think it would be cool or fun, you might want to rethink it unless you're prepared to put in a lot of work because living with mental illness is not either of those things (generally) and what you're doing for a bit of fun has the potential to negatively impact someone else's life in a big way because stigma & misrepresentatio
how it goesthis is how it goes; you meet a boy and you think he's cute and you hope that maybe someday you will kiss the nape of his neck. the ache grows inside of you like a tumour, you feel it pulsing every single day and there is a piece inside of you that hopes he likes you back.how it goes4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
then you start to doubt it, you start to think you're ugly and your chubby and your clothes aren't pretty, but then you realize if you want him to like you, you have to like you as well. so you start to like yourself more, you're happier and you think he likes you back, which makes everything so much better.
one day he walks you to the bus and you wonder how time managed to put you here, and you see his lips moving but all you hear is the sound of your heart hammering. you agree to go on a date with him, and you try hard not to maul him when you hug him goodbye. you sit on the bus smiling and miss your stop, but it's alright, because it's a breathtaking day.
things are beautiful for a long time, trees look like they
burning clouds for the sake of silver liningscontrary to popular belief,burning clouds for the sake of silver linings2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i would've been fucking
amazing for you -
licked the cold out
of your tired
ears, caressed your weight-ridden
shoulders and knees,
been the perfect answer to
your illiterate idea of
but you cowered behind a
reflection, a "too" instead of
trust me, baby, i've heard
too many lies
to know for quite sure, how
guilty you felt
when the fire in your heart
you're trying all the
wrong ways; keeping me
the way you shouldn't,
and it might just make me
better at filtering.
the only silverwhitelilac
making me wiser.
in the bathroom sinkan island,in the bathroom sink4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you've built your own world here
a shelter, insignificant and
light, white and
ready to evaporate,
feet in the bathroom sink
reading books of boys in love
and soft, deep eyes
like wells and
the bottom of the ocean.
floating thirty thousand feet above yourself
your island is a bubble about to burst,
words in the wind,
hide from the sea
and you hide from yourself.