The split second moment when everything collapsesCarve our names into the woodworkThe split second moment when everything collapses1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of your spine so maybe we can force something
Beautiful out of the mud and arteries and synapses
because drowning my sorrows in the last dregs
of cheap coffee leaves the taste of a corpse
between my teeth and cheek
I’ve seen lakes with the bones of drowned poets
In the spaces between your hang dog one liners
And maybe it’s okay to crush clichés between our fingers
And smear them like blood across our cheeks
And run wild like frenzied deer eyed children
The devils headlights
You were full of loose change and receipts
Constantly shifting between the spectrums
Of visible to ultraviolet, you were blinding in the way
That the morning light burns your eyes red until it clears
And you see stars and love when really
It’s sleep deprivation and the balmy film of unconsciousness lingering
In the back of your throat
There was this fleeting apparition about the way
You’d tilt your neck just enough
To make your hair fall in your eye
on seeking solace in strangersAnd she felt like homeon seeking solace in strangers9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
her arms gave
way to the sand
castle of her
i loved her for it
she was a dragon
of a girl
beneath her eyes
from the corners
of her lips
like a faulty tap
to me she was beautiful
like those obscure
lapses in time
at 3.25 AM
with her legs
stretched across the
smoking my cigarettes
as she let her words
into the quiet
s p a c e s
she still sparkled
with this rebellious
twinkle in her eyes
and those eyes
they felt like home
all the doors
Get upHear me read itGet up2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the floor. Within her scope of vision there were many things she could look at. Many things to think about and process. There was a slate blouse that had wilted at the bottom of her bed, or her pale foot placed beside it. The foot looked unnatural there, with no pressure to grip it to the ground it looked unbelonging, like a cast aside prop. Yet she did not look, or think, or notice.
She just stared, blindly, for an hour, her thoughts were obnoxious and churned the paltry paste of self-disgust in her heart muscle, but they were relatively quiet as she repeated over and over in the forefront of her subconscious "Time to get up."
Time to get up. It was time to get up. It was time to get up and get on with her life. It was time to get a life. It was time. It was time to get up.
Unprovoked tears swelled and scattered loosely amid this trail of thought. She kept going, over and over, It
A little punk rocker with a gift for singing songsGirl with the rock and roll smirk curled behind her teethA little punk rocker with a gift for singing songs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Burning her insides for fun because there wasn’t much else to do
Aside from skipping stones across car parks
And sipping the last dregs of forbidden liquor
Behind broken trees to keep up the act of normality
Late at night when the moon is asleep
She lies on dismantled bed frames
Counting stars because lambs are too often sent to the slaughter
Lucky star heartbeats and posy veins
Hides broken windows behind her pupils
Ceiling lights tracing patterns on her cheekbones
As late night contemplation's lead back to Rome
Atlas limbs curled into her ribs
With a sense of obligation she carries the weight
Of a small child tucked behind her jaw
Elder sister turned hero minus the cape and nylon
Angel torn knuckles scraped and bruised
Walks upon the dry cracked ground
Searching for Atlantis hidden behind a little girls smile
Your true selfInside your mindYour true self3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If you look down deep
You will see your true self
How you really think
It could be
You could end up doing things
You never knew...
Or it could be
You could be so proper and neat
Whatever it is
You will find out
That you may never see
The true person you can be.
Foreign bodies hold the most amazing secretsHer muse is like those nights briefly spent in barsForeign bodies hold the most amazing secrets1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Resting between the slopes of her shoulders
Cradled by the familiarity of those childhood memories spent
Gorging on gummy bears, always the red ones
On frosty autumn mornings when the air was a tangible crunch
Of bonfires and classical books piled high like castles
She is the embodiment of anecdotes clad in weather worn
Mementos of half rhymes curled between her jaws
Systematic moon sweeps crawl upon her bones
The way oceans rest between the gaps of her ribs
Colliding and collapsing her sinews like an easel
Her anamorphing spine breaking against the confines
Of her chrysalis membrane
Perforated synapses cracked open
To spill onto the recesses of her spider web fingertips
She reaches for the roots of the earth to listen to the
Trees whisper their weary tales to the earths fractured
Heartbeat of molten distress and pesticide
She lingers in the doorways
Aching to touch the mirrored edges
Of wanderlusting curses splayed out acros
The older we get the better we used to beAll we ate that day were 3The older we get the better we used to be1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
To stifle the anxious shaking
Of our palms or
At least produce excuses for
The anxiety rustling beneath
Our scarred veins
When did the diamonds
Leave your bones
And for how long have
You been expiring without them
When did the construction
Of your false reality
Finally fall through
The fragile infrastructure
Of your factitious commentary
Lack the physical manifestation
Of your laboured breathing
Perhaps it's best if we ache
For magic and other childish things
Because the world hurts our eyes
And I don't want to see anymore
The skies are pressing against
Our glass houses and
The sun is bleeding over the rim
Of the bathtub
It's slow dripping
Pelting out a funeral song
Mental Disorder DinerWhy hello there miss.Mental Disorder Diner7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Welcome to battered and scarred restaurant,
where disorders are over cooked, raw or however you like it.
Would you like to start with our appet…. I mean anxiety disorders?
I'll start off simple with panic disorder,
while being a simple dish, it has a bad after taste of fear.
You can taste the fear from here.
Next up we have our social anxiety disorder,
This disorder is on back order and
too scared to show up to the meal sometimes.
It does however come with a side of sweat
No, not your style?
PTSD is our special appetizer of the day,
because it only trusts on some days
and comes with flashbacks on the side.
Next we're on to our specials, considered the hardest disorders.
First is bi polarity, which will take you through a number of sensations.
from sad blue to normal grey to euphoric high yellow,
Schizophrenia is a unpopular one of many,
the hallucinations are controlling and over cooked.
A bit too difficult to chew?
Our main courses are eating disorders.
Why artist get so pissed off on art thieves?5 minutes here for Ninjakato.Why artist get so pissed off on art thieves?5 months ago in Personal More Like This
"Why do you artists always get so pissed off when someone uses your artwork? You should take it as a compliment!"
"You should take it as a Compliment --"
A compliment would be admiring an artist's work where they post it, and if you really want to use it that badly, complimenting them would be you having enough respect for them to ask first.
Most of us don't get mad because you use it, it's because you use it without asking or pretend you didn't know who/where it came from when there's a link to where you can find the original artist on the image.
Taking someone's car to crash it in a derby isn't a compliment to them any more than taking someone's art to wreck it or claim it is a compliment. More so without asking.
"What about realism artists?! They copy from photographs all the time, no originality there