The Action I OwnSleeping to the sound of the truck's motion vibrating my eight year old arms,
I dreamt of skyscrapers peppering mountains like trees.
A current of cars rushing on highway rivers,
The undertow of black rubber skid tracks.
I dreamt of cities at night looking like pearls,
threaded by bridges to wear around my neck.
And then suddenly opening my eyes,
the way children can sense when they're home;
I woke up to blazing orange lights against blackness and pine trees,
looking like the fires of coal-powered engines, of cigarette thoughts.
The logging yard lit up like sunlight through stained glass church windows
or a desert oasis.
ED AlphabetA is for anxiety, which you will have everydayED Alphabet7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
whenever you see a girl who may be skinnier in some way.
And all the bones of your skeleton you see revealing
is B. What's scary is you find it appealing!
While you wittle your waist down to a size 23,
your control has been stolen (which is obviously C).
D is dying and you never think of that,
just as you can't see how you're not actually fat.
E, emaciation, eating, and extreme exercise
is all to get rid of your non-existant thighs.
Food, your enemy, is to be avoided with fear,
another F word, along with fasting, my dear.
G is the guilt you will carry all day and all night,
The Black Hole VicinityMy pulse no longer beatsThe Black Hole Vicinity3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in tune with every honk
and my feet are out of place
with your walk;
I can barely keep up.
This city numbs my very bones
and I write but cannot talk;
the words keep freezing in my mouth.
I shuffle and shiver,
grinding my teeth at night,
while every other cog
is moving, moving, moving
and I am fully stopped.
HollywoodWhen the sun scorches my skin into a desert,Hollywood7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dusty hills like this dusty town,
I want to go to Hollywood.
My hands are too small in this valley,
they're too small to move mountains and grab clouds.
In Hollywood, lit up by exploded suns,
in Hollywood, my hands might fit in a dead movie star's prints.
I can't look at the sky anymore without squinting,
crow's feet slowly feathering out from my eyes;
the sun dried my tears into premature wrinkles.
Hollywood is a taste of Evian water
and lunch break plastic surgery, something fake enough to taste sweet in my mouth.
My jeans feel itchy, worker skin that needs to be shed,
replaced by an
Thoughtlessly Heavyhanded...Thoughtlessly Heavyhanded...9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Guitar string hands are groping, pleading,
for pale peach lingering. And ignoring,
braving this hiss of sharp metal.
To unfold like a seared meat book,
dropped in a disgusted lap.
Shadow puppet hands, hands of waving
eucalyptus leaves, they dance in the
Shadow flitting behind violin light beams to
doubtfully land upon outstretched languid legs.
Toenails sigh minty longing
before collapsing in a breath.
Slow piano triggered stroke of a blink, wispy
warbelling to graze my cheek, leaving but blue.
Swirl my thoughts into chocolate pudding, thickly
coating my brain.
Cigarette smoke never ran up and a
Ana PoemI love hip bones and rib bones,Ana Poem8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Collar bones and skin tones,
Tight clothes that're low cut;
Show your bones like a weightless slut.
Protuding out and concaved in,
Fight the food and you can win.
Sexy skin with pink scarred wrists,
I hate how much I'm wanting this.
Fat to ashes, bones to dust;
Falling, fading, love and lust.
Something I'm not, I have to be,
Because only then can I be me.
Drug-Addict Muse ConfessesDrug-Addict Muse Confesses8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sunbeams are flashing in my eyes,
shaking loose my brain cell ghosts and I
swipe at the air, trying to catch them back (but
I always told myself that apologies are useless).
I know if I could just
swallow my thoughts whole again, I'd remember
(I'd remember a lot) the times when I'd sing off-key to you and
how you always said my voice was beautiful
but I didn't believe it (I didn't believe a lot).
You never cared about stamping NORMAL on my forehead
never blew your thoughts out in a smoke ship,
watching them swirl in a frozen light beam. That was
always me, it was
always me, breaking up on the inside and wanting you
Split ConflictThe lighthouse shies between rocks,Split Conflict8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hiding its beacon in crevices I cannot slip my hand into.
Shuddering, as always,
with the promises unkept
of just a little further, just one more inch.
It won't absolve, it'll only
splatter another drop, wasting on thirsty rocks.
And I have never had my fill.
Battling, she tries
to ache the mechanics inside my body.
The last she spoke, the wind wanted blood
and now whispers for my skin,
to smooth away the goosebumps
and tear out any prickle of hair.
Her voice is drenched with sea salt
as she rolls another breath,
sweeping back bangs and the hood of my jacket.
I spoke once, if only
I had wo
Processes of PurityWhen Jeremy and IProcesses of Purity8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Walk down Westmoor in
February, I know the
Nasturtium leaves have
Collected rain water in the
Center of their green veined
Hearts. The glass beads have
Gathered large and clear and the
Cavities of our chests lay
Open and convex. Willing we are, for the
Desert there knows no quench.
Green will purify the acid run-off
As it puddles within us. Breathing
Droplets will filter through the
Flimsy cheesecloth and
Strike the sand in silence. Perhaps
Light will transfigure each into
Bits of bread—flaked, illumined,
Descending. But the black writhing
Wire trees below will refuse to be
Dampened or fed, screa
Orange.Orange.8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bitter love juices from pungent oranges
drip down to my fingers, stinging my bitten nails
and I always smile, seedily,
begging to be unpeeled.
Would you run your calloused hands
over my thick, ridged skin and rip the casing
from my flesh,
ready to sink your teeth in
And tear out all my andrenaline glands
one by one, letting them pop between your teeth.
Sunbeams coat your tongue,
making everything sticky
You'll lick your fingers
but you'll never lick that stain away.
SummerWebbed skin stretchesSummer6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a pale oddity
across my spread toes.
against the hanging heat
low, sea-level lurking,
cocooning my unfolded
drops of coolness, beads
sliding down my copper-sun
water filled balloon, bobbing
lazily, a frog's translucent
egg, tinged with the promise of
Heat pulls it down, pinions me
to the concrete sidewalks
my grass-stained knees.
From Chaos to LoveFrom Chaos to Love9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I tried to grid you with chalk,
dotted lines all over your flowing skin like
greyed clouds, only
I couldn't. For who but
would ever try to pin down Uranus?
You, however, broke open your brow,
a grin too willing,
and snaked your lightning
past my equator. So
with a flash (a flash
as though it would ever be too fast) you parted
and moistened the skin in the hollow of
Never one for calculating latitude
(or longitude for that matter but really,
who's counting that),
Uranus of the Heavens, only
knowing with closed eyes,
just exactly where the
Land Down Under
Ana's Job ApplicationDear Madam,Ana's Job Application6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
When I heard you were looking for a diet coach, a way to slim down, I knew this was a job for me. I'm definitely well-qualified for it.
My name is Anorexia Nervosa, but my friends call me Ana. I don't like to brag, but I'm quite famous actually. I'm on the news a lot, and I even have a fan club. You can find them on pro-Ana websites everywhere. They even call me a way of life. They can't live without me, they say. Honestly, I'm flattered.
If you're feeling worthless and overweight, you have a right to-- you are. But I wouldn't worry if I were you. I've worked with lots of people like you before, and I've made them what
StellaYou said, "This is THEStella7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Best Feeling in the world," and
my darling, you're strung up and down
with primitive guitar strings;
smiling picks of every thickness
and I scream, "NO!
Your tar-charred voice is first,"
but only silently (biting
my own lip) because my voice coughs up
lungs and that's
too intimate, too
for a first date.
You swipe a cigarette
and I look at my own fingers, so
spindly yellow cracked
and it's okay that your middle name
Your SongHow soothing your voice soundsYour Song6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To my deafened ears
Pull me from the silence
Teach me how to hear
The rich melody of your voice
Floods my waking mind
Your eyes are so honest
And your smile oh so kind
The song your soul sings
Is beautiful indeed
So pure and untainted
By war and hate and greed
How I long to keep you
Forever by my side
All my secrets and true longings
In you I can confide
Sing to me your song
And I'll sing the harmony
No matter where you go
Please always stay by me
HalfThese apron stringsHalf4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tied around my wrists
are stained, burned, frayed:
I am not the first.
"I will not make those mistakes,"
I had said,
"I am not that
The first mistake of many.
We are, all of us,
by our naivety,
destroyed by our
Our minds were churches once,
we would sit,
complete in ourselves.
Now, all that's left:
crumbling under graffitti,
And we allowed it.
volcanic glasslatin can not describe the electricityvolcanic glass4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,
protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.
i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing up
on the banks of my shoulders like
the white-gold sunshine
that would prism behind your chinook arch
with all the beauty of a nuclear winter.
for the transplant of my frontal lobe
to the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructions
have been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am to
one, stand very still
two, present my brain to the sky
wait for the apricots
of sunrise to settle
into the overcast of his