Still-life.The best of my paintings:Still-life.3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
the hum of
a sad piano,
a morning cigarette,
and a graveside angel;
all I ever wanted.
Don't Write While You're Highwhere the scenesDon't Write While You're High3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
blend too seamlessly
to the next glance:
our twoselves soon rising
up-through white fibers—
from the thick of reality:
oilslicks slipping up-along
when later looking back: the lost
incompatible with water but—
we sought fewer thoughts
An hourglass between his knucklesHe quit smoking because heAn hourglass between his knuckles2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
didn’t like the taste of his own
mortality; bitter, brackish, black
as his lungs. Didn’t like the pull
of nicotine, ashy fingers,
the way a cigarette looked like
an hourglass pinched between his knuckles.
The ashtray began
to fill up again after his wife
died. Every day at first; an entire
pack after her funeral; a box
every three days; one flicker
of light in the evenings spent leaning
on the balcony railing,
watching the city go by through
a veil of smoke and memories.
I bought a pack for him once, just
to use my ID for something.
It’s still sitting on his coffee
table, one cigarette short.
you lied the night you kissed me.there is a thick exhaustion in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my shouldersyou lied the night you kissed me.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
till they hang and to my knees until they buckle. and I will sleep for days on end,
and when I wake up I didn't really.
I hate you dear, I hate you so.
because there is so much to do, I could travel to the other side of the country and
paint a portrait of a stranger and I could sit on top of someone's roof and look at the
stars with a boy I don't want to know and I could fall asleep in his bed and listen to
him playing guitar without clothes and he'd take me out for diner and anywhere I'd
want to go and we'd have sex in his car and on the trampoline in my back yard and
we'd eat at my grandparents with Christmas and it would never be enough because
he's everything you weren't.
I think I lost myself, I think I fell out that time you ran away holding onto me and my
skin tore. I looked for her in that empty hole in your chest cavity, but all I found was
lost so long ago, and you wouldn't show me where it went b
Feelings with no namesi.Feelings with no names3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message yet, let alone formulated time to write a reply, but you still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by and rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
The noise of a faraway car driving late at night, or perhaps early in the morning, in that sleepy place somewhere between consciousness and dreaming where everything is warm and vaguely fuzzy. The remote sound of tires on asphalt speaks to a sense of curiosity – where are they going? Why so early? – but the blankets are so heavy, your eyes are so heavy, and before you can wonder anymore, the car is long gone and you are long gone, carving out a hollow place to rest in just a few hours more.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that y
for those slipping into the backgroundThe tax collector hadfor those slipping into the background2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an appetite for berry smoothies
and a secret love of robotic exchanges
between baristas and caffeine addicts.
An empty emptiness fanatic,
who dreamed of giving
the girl at the bus stop
(with the quiet lip-syncing lips)
a daisy because by the way she
stared forlornly at the pigeons pecking
at nothing, he knew
she liked simplicity
even more than him.
Rhythm of the HeartWhat is this pounding,Rhythm of the Heart3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Within this heart of mine own?
It beats so softly...
Twisted Corsettwisted corsetTwisted Corset3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tangled in strings
of the heart
a love story you don't want.january: she wasnt ready to be serious with him so she left at exactly twelve oh one on new years day with a few words. he kept saying that this was going to be their year and she just said: piss off.a love story you don't want.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
february: the words still stuck in his head even as he pretended to forgive her and took her back. he feared another painful goodbye.
march: she was never good with saying what she truely meant and he never looked deep into words so when she said "i don't love you." he took it as "i don't love you." and not as "i don't know how to love anyone." which was what she wanted to say.
april: the snow had melted away and they were hanging on by last strings. every day was a question of whether today would be the last.
may: she fell apart when her hamster died and he was there through the whole thing.
june: the death of her hamster silenced her but she visited with him more. she never wanted to be alone.
july: as they watched fire works together on fourth of july, he kept looking over at her wonde
recuperatemaybe the world isn't so frail that it'll breakrecuperate3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the moment we touch something;
and maybe there's a little part of ourselves
(deep inside, perhaps, or close to the surface)
that's stronger than what we give credit for,
because, after all, we burn with the vision
of growing stronger.
i enjoy watching pretty things
like kerbs where teens sit with knees pressed together
feet in the gutter --
stitched to their sleeves.
i relish a name etched into a tree
and boats folded from leaves.
little things, which whisper that people still love
even when purses are emptied of coins,
even when patience
like flowers surviving monsoons;
like ants who carry huge crumbs;
the way the moon is so far
but still blushes at the light of
i want to tell all who tread on hard soil
that even stones soften into the beach,
that the lullaby-cry of seagulls is soothing,
and clouds, now distant, were once of the water
that's cupped in your ha
starspunobserving the romanticismstarspun3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.
you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
all my pick up lines
we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
that two teens at the park
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)
your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.
i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
about how youth without you is th-
awing out the lines in my whittled-out eyes.
look to the hooded
wonder what we'd have been like
if we grew up as nothings,
like them. teenage
nothings with chiseled
marble in our
out of our parents' adulterated
lies and the excitement of alcohol.
i settle for a star.
it's almost as luminous
as the after
boys with bird names cant actually fly.i fill my lungs with blackberriesboys with bird names cant actually fly.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& nicotine because it is the only way
I can stomach the taste.
a phoenix told me once
that he could teach me
how to burn properly,
as if scolding
[ like the intercostal
spaces of a ribcaged
he fell in love
with my words
before he knew
the height of my
or the annoying
sound of my laugh.
he said he could count
all my scars on one hand-
even the ones that wake me
at 3 am with an itch i swear
begs me to rip them open
& i told him he could keep
his pretty words and fiery fingers
creatively away from me.
i am tired of smelling of hell
& ash when -
Cross Stitch CloudsLike a counted cross stitch masterpiece,Cross Stitch Clouds1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
threads of purple clouds unravel
across a flaming sunrise.
Prom NightProm Night2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Mom can you please stop taking photos? This is the third memory card that you've replaced since I put on the dress." Mikasa complained. You on the other hand was over joyed. Your oldest daughter Mikasa was getting ready for her magical prom night and soon preparing for her graduation. Christa was sitting on her big sister's bed just as happy as you were.
"Oh Mikki quit complaining! You are just absolutely beautiful!! Look at my baby!" You squealed. Mikasa couldn't help but smile at her overly happy mother.
"Oh! I remember when I went to my prom. I went three times though." You started.
"Three"? Christa asked dumbfounded.
"Well yeah. The first time I went with your uncle Mike because he's a weirdo and no one wanted to go with him. The second time I went with Mr. Springer....that I regret. And the last, Oh my! That was my prom night. My prom ni
in a motel roomthis has got to stop, this has got to stop.in a motel room3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i can't keep doing this, i'm sorry,
but we are not meant to fall in love.
don't you understand?
this is a detective novel.
i am a serial killer, and you are the detective,
and i'm not even meant
to get any speaking lines.
i am meant to be compromised solely
of the knives i use, the bodies i choose,
and the prison cell i end up in.
i am meant to end up in a prison cell,
and you are meant to put me there.
this is not a break-through, imaginative,
screw-with-your-expectations work of genius;
this is a cheap paperback detective novel
people leave in hotels, and
find by the boxful in charity shops.
we are not meant to fall in love!
you are meant to be mysterious,
and silent, and brooding,
you are not meant to give me roses,
you are meant to put me in prison.
the reader is not meant to know
you like candle lit dinners.
the reader is not meant to know
anything about you,
besides your tortured past
Burning UpHeart racing,Burning Up3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
The thoughts of you,
I cannot control,
I cannot stop.
They continue to pound inside
My head and heart.
This feeling I have,
This overwhelming sense,
Passion like never before
Passion unlike any other.
This is not love,
This is not me going insane.
This is me,
Madly in love...
Angel of ConsequenceCan you see me fallAngel of Consequence3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
reaching for what seems to be eternity
I'm grappled by my thoughts
Wake up this is reality
I'm back into this dream again
to fight the wave of right and wrong
distracted by an angels song
I cannot be this warrior inside of me
I'm just a bird who longs to be free
I cannot be the man i should be
cause all i want is what burns inside of me
entwined by fates disturbing destiny
Haunted by this face
a sweet and stinging gift of beautiful irony
I risk this life
for this simple pleasure
to feel the high
of an emotional treasure
From the twisted mind of fate's design
mocks me with all its glorious malign
Presents to me with a drug so intense
sets out my path to cross with this angel of consequence
Bad MemoriesChapter OneBad Memories3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. Still having bad dreams from years ago when my father was taken. My mother runs in. “Are you okay?” No. “Yeah, I’m fine.”I stare at my dog trying not to make contact with mom as I try not to break down. I see my mother’s worried face and break down crying, curling up on my nice warm bed. My mom paces over and comforts me in her arms. “…I’m not fine.” I say as I wipe the tears from my freckled cheeks. She peels my chestnut hair away from my crystal blue eyes and looks into them. “What’s wrong?” She asks. “What’s wrong every night!” Dad. “Honey, your father is gone.” My mother says sitting up. “No he’s not!” I scream. My dog runs out of the room. “I saw him! He isn’t gone.” I break out of my mother’s arms and stand up. I can see her jaws clenched like they do when she is upset. I
Paradoxes in her bonesand she always dismisses herselfParadoxes in her bones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and leaves her pupils dilated
lighthouses and forget-me-nots tangled in her chest
but her thoughts shiver more than her dreams.
he calls her beautiful
as she longs to stick his eyes out with stones
and grasp his aching heart between her hands
but they both know he's already broken.
how can they stop when they've never started
she wishes she could send them reeling
with stalwart syllables and poignant sighs
even though she's never made a sound.
the storms outside are bitter
no sweet rain after dusk to wet her lips
the winds inside her are quiet, and seething
with all the words she's never said
and all the promises she's ever broken.
Eaten by a Dream"I was eaten by a dream once."Eaten by a Dream2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The girl, and I say she was a girl because she looked to be in her 20's, sat down next to me in the waiting area outside the gate for my flight to Houston. I had been reading an article on my iPad and not paying attention when she sat down. But, my memory tells me that I might have taken slight notice of her out of the corner of my eye as she came out of the "Sports Bar" across the hallway from the waiting area a few minutes ago. I figured she was slightly tipsy because of the way she moved. She didn't look to be entirely in control of her motions.
I normally would not have responded to a stranger in the airport, but there was something about her that looked familiar. It was as though I knew her, but the setting was wrong. It was like being a kid and seeing your teacher at the supermarket: a familiar person in a familiar setting, but the two are not familiar together.
"Do you mean that you are consumed by a dream?"
a painting hung all wrong.in a dream.a painting hung all wrong.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
we find him strung up in our garage
washing line taut. neck bulging.
i covered someone's eyes.
stopped them from remembering,
almost familar features
and blue blue blue blue wide open eyes.
where's someone to cover mine?
i mirror you with swollen throat
my voice thick with blood and screaming.
a painting hung all wrong.
final exchangeThe metallic fire ignited moments ago in your chest goes almost as quickly as it came. You don't think you can even feel it anymore.final exchange4 years ago in Drama More Like This
The colors are far more intoxicating anyway.
First teal, then red.
The two colors begin to mingle and the scents dance all around you, sending you into sensory overload. Nothing but powerful wildberry fumes every time you struggle to fill your lungs. It is completely delicious. And makes you feel the slightest bit sick.
Everything around you is wet, heavy, and warm. And yet, you're chilled to the bone. You currently lie in one of two expanding pools of blood. One your own, and one of someone you care more about than you like to admit. Two quickly becomes one as the openings in your chests feed your colorful graves. You can feel that someone's hand around your's, but only for a second before the pseudo-sedatives fueled by the lack of blood in your veins takes over. Now only a tingling sensation remains, a ghost of a comforting touc
Cold HeartedI'm tearing them down,Cold Hearted3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Piece by piece.
Let the walls fall,
Let the pain increase.
I stare my pain in the face,
Let it rip me a part.
Show what I've always feared,
In the depths of my cold heart.
I review my lack of care,
All the people that I've hurt.
When did I become so cold?
When did loved ones turn to dirt?
What happened to me?
Once so loving and kind.
When did it get so bad?
Did I suddenly lose my mind?
I want to trust again,
To love and to care,
But is the risk to high?
Is the cost of pain fair?
I realize that it's not.
I'm safe within my walls.
So much better to be cold,
Then to get hurt in the fall.
Nepeta and... Eridan?!Nepeta and... Eridan?!4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
^ : :33 :ac hopes this is Karkitty and not a creep: Herro?
v : YEAH THIS IS KARKITTY I MEAN LOOK AT HOWW KARKITTY I AM RIGHT NOWW
v : SO ANYWWAY WWHAT WWERE YOU SAYIN NEP
^ : :33 ....... Karkitty, why are you using Erridans quirk? :ac gives a look of confusion-
v : UH
v : IM NOT USIN ERIS QUIRK
v : HIS QUIRK IS FOR NOBLE SEADWELLERS
v : SEE
v : I ONLY POSTED ONE WW
v : FUCK
^ : :33 Teehee- you're silly, Karkitty. :ac giggles and sits down on the fluur: So anyways, what werre we talking about?
v : WWELL
v : I MEAN WELL
v : I WAS JUST THINKIN MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY DATIN ERI
v : I MEAN HES A HIGHBLOOD WWHILE IM JUST A MUTANT
v : *WHILE
v : WHOOPS LOOK AT ALL THESE TYPOS
^ : :33 karkitty, are you okay? and why would I want to date a fish?
v : WWHOA HES NOT A FISH
v : I MEAN WHOA
v : HES A FUCKIN HIGHBLOOD AN YOU NEED TO LEARN SOME RESPECT
^ : :33 But... you know... land and sea... they don't mix. I doubt HE would allow me to do something that rrediculous anyways.
v : GODDAMNIT
v : WWELL IGN