you moved softlyYou moved softly, like end of summer leaves falling into autumn, turning the pages of the air with your fingers, as a silent maestro begging the orchestra to play. I never met so many instruments willing, waiting, dying to be resonant.
Stepping into the street, watching you, sounds lose meaning they dont disappear but they elongate into the stretching moment and Figaro in and out of my ears as a rushing hissing straining noise. Like whistling kettles I havent heard, in real-time, for years.
Silk rippling slowly through the air from you; your arms are fluid and wistful. You seem so sad as you run your fingerprints across your skull, parting the trees of your scalp and shaking your hair forest into earthquakes as you landslide your eyebrows into an upheaval of tectonic plates.
I never knew a frown could be so beautiful. And I never knew that painted pain could swallow my breath like lights blinking out in the night. I lie, I have always known, but you brin
love is like birdi think im getting a bit too fidgetylove is like bird8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
staring silence onto walls again
looking through people,
ignoring flickers of recognition like goldfish picking at flakes
or my fingertips
im walking with an aim of nothing
i shudder at the words im supposed to be saying
like its supposed to supposed to
and i could eat my apathy with ribbons
splattering sugar on the cement
[i didnt buy them]
i collect--much too many a thing
i collect people
in my head
short films of them
it doesnt matter that reality lies to me with
black and white shades of grey turning everything into a big mess of purple
when i like you
black when i like you
black when i dont
and everything is purple anyhow
i need no glasses to tell you i dont see the same colours as you
but i know you
and i know you dont know me
i never knew you
im suffering from high doses of pleasantry
the easiness between us, is only me playing the game the way my mother taught me
with a smile and mu
generally speaking. I loveToday it is simple.generally speaking. I love8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
It begins with caves opening to reveal blindness for little seconds before my eyes painfully adjust. Travels on up a steep slope that jagged legs, crinkle left and right to straighten, when everything is level. Ten minutes pass (remember: Im always almost always lying about the time, but its only because I dont remember), and on the eleventh, Im wet with water that couldve touched so many dead things before it washes over my lips.
But still, morning comes with clean. And when I open my eyes to streaming water I feel happier when it is not mine; let it wash clean my orbs, blaze them fire-dance red and inject some life between me and the paramecium waltzing on my lidded hallucinations.
Its so I dont get lost in the sound of the fan sucking up all the steam of me. So I can focus on two red dots collided with blood maps surrounding two dots of chocolate indecision. So I dont have to dwell on the reason why clothes fade.
when you wish you had-n't-stringing your eyes with garlands of stars iwhen you wish you had-n't-6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wish to impeach you, maybe impregnate you
with a will to breathe
but what are you but an incoming breath
to me? an unapologetic zephyr gracing
my inner vineyards
ruffling the leaves with whispers
(i understand it
isn't so collapsible, and
i'm forgetting i forget
but when the winds turn
you're a harlot, ruining this year's
yield of self
(importance and confidence)
and i'm understandably drinking
the vinegar left
trying to breathe in the lights
i gift you with - always
and i have only the stars
the stars to blame.
-truth-will you meet me in the spaces-truth-8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
between our fingers
indivisible, but one
(and all the smaller pieces
that don't matter)
a hollow note
twenty minutes to dawn
(i know this because we've been here before)
in this moment, and this thing of arms and arms entwined, called embrace
this moment on soft notsosoft ground sheets
it's the same
and in this moment
this moment is again
and your voices
singing as the past
ceilings and walls
that do not house me
anymore, i hear you
you are farther away
when i am with you
than when we are
so far apart
i do not have a traditional clock
that could tick away the night
in even tones
to focus on
when i'm trying my hardest not to be awake
i only have digitalisations left
it is not morning, nothe sun is a façadeit is not morning, no6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
it wakes up late
scrunches up its eye balls
and falls back asleep
the half closed blind
and decide it is still night
Girl on a train 245.Girl on a train 2459 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There should be a poem for every girl
with black hair and black eyes
who's sat across the aisle on a crowded train
and written pointless beautiful things
in the notebook in her lap.
I might write my name and number on a bit of paper
Drop it on your page as I'm getting off.
But I prefer to think it and write it than to know
What might happen if I actually did.
I'm sorry I've been staring. But you see
TallItachi has grown tall. When he's standing just in front of her they can't meet each other's eyes without her looking up and him looking down.Tall8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He's a killer now, her son, just like every other man of the Uchiha clan has been before him.
The bloodstains are barely visible against his dark uniform, but when she washes it, the water colours red.
The missions keeps Itachi away late at night, and she stays up waiting for him. She keeps the bath hot, putting new logs on the fire regularly. It's cold outside, and when he returns, she wants her boy to become warm and clean again, and let every trace of battle get thrown out with the bath water.
When Itachi steps through the door at dawn, she stands in the hallway, a cup of steaming tea in her hands. For a second his irritation is clearly visible, then he smiles gently and scolds her for worrying too much.
There's a smudge of dried blood on his cheek.
Lesbian CirclesWhat scares you?Lesbian Circles8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is it the monsters under your bed?
or the thunder shaking your house at night?
What makes the hair on the back of your neck rise?
Maybe its the child at the park that stares at you with her otherworldly eyes. The one with the stained dress and the ragged little bow in her hair.
Or is it something else.
Something more sinister.
The dryness in your mouth, like on a hot summers day, that happens almost instantly when you see
That longing that rises in your chest in a manner that suggests heartburn.
The lust that clenches in your stomach like the butterflies that appear just before you speak in front of hundreds of people.
But most of all.
The pulsating heat that creeps from between your legs down to you knees.
Its so wrong.
But it feels
There is a straight line we must follow.
like good little school girls.
I dont know about you.
we only had the time to fallone.we only had the time to fall5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
i met you in the early autumn on the shortest day of the year.
your eyes matched the drying leaves hanging loosely on the barren trees, and your skin reminded me of the warmest cinnamon. i can't remember what you were wearing, but i can recall how you walked in late, like you lived life in slow motion.
shouting at the top of your lungs, your voice echod against the stone walls of what came to be our chapel and you shattered every glass mind in the room.
you were a walking tragedy and i loved every second of it.
you crawled under my skin every time snow settled on the ground and you found shelter in my silence when you prattled on about the nothings.
i grew to like the nothings, but the snow had to melt sometime.
when it did, we found ourselves on thinning grass fields and we weren't sure how to stand on the softer side of things, but we did the best we could and crawled.
sometimes, i wish i learned how to walk again.
when the heat entered our bodie
If you keep your eyes closedI start, but I begin to faulterIf you keep your eyes closed8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
catching myself on cliffs of wind chapped lips
gnawing uncertainty with white spears
(oh native tongue)
what's spinning you?
The bastard child that thinks I'm a yo-yo.
I begin again, only to fall into
the same too big for you shoes, same glazed (aspartame laced) over smile,
and you. you are... a loss of anything to say
WildYou could never be strangers againWild2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in that void of charged space
between the eyes and the air.
And the other people, who are
less than faces in the crowd.
Maybe it was a true dream of
dark times, always walking,
you are thief protected by gloss
that they could break
if only they knew how.
The lion at the zoo could
jump the fence, the wolves
could dig beneath the glass.
Safety is a mutual ignorance,
and it is something to be reminded
through wilds of the woods,
that she has fangs
and so do you.
catalan nighti fall between the sticky sheetscatalan night6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
like rice paper on the roof of your mouth
when you bite into a white rabbit
in MonmartreI wonder where your facein Monmartre5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
folds. Elegantly. Like
origami. Becoming a
smile, just like that.
Careful preparation - practice, practice.
I wonder where your face
folds now, and how, and
for who. If it is coloured the
same, if it is hanging
by string from the
ceiling, with spotlights
shadows for dramatic
Where do you fold at
Where do your creases
Are your edges sharp?
Do you cut...
Or if, maybe, I
press my lips to you
(please don't tear)
will you buzz, flicker
melodious from my mouth?
youmesmeriseme[youmesmeriseme8 years ago in Typographical More Like This
you mesmerise me
you rise me; me's me
me me me, rises you
mire see you, me e
see you-me, sire
is you (me-you)
you see me
i see you
is your me
you see me is i
apparitionyou came.apparition8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a single thought etched upon the fingerprints of me
tainting every(even the smallest of them)thing i touch
i turn into tomorrow
as easily as i crack each vertebrae
up up and up into my morning face
you should have as many painful thoughts as you can before breakfast
(or none of either, at all, if either can be helped)
you came (as early as the morning following the night i so desperately wanted to drip into untouchable time)
gladly expressed as words unsaid
relegate your coarseness to a
to a need to
need to wake
to wake (thedead) up
it isn't as simple as the notion
we three plains of all
and just before the whisper of awake
or something ineffable and non-speech
blur your horizons into a dream
so i can be(in)lie(you)ve
ClosedShe walked down the street looking lost and alone. A shimmering glow peeked through the grime where shed wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her feet were bare, little trails of blood as though shed been walking for days. Her golden hair lay limp across her shoulders. Filled with twigs and leaves.Closed6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Her dress was tattered. White with golden streaks hanging loosely down her back. I watch her stumble, grabbing out for something as an automatic reflex not out of any real sense for self preservation.
I reached out and caught her arm, catching her. She looked at me with tired, sad eyes that couldnt quite focus upon my face. She was beautiful. Perfect. She tried to speak I-I- and gave up. I could hear her voice was as wonderful as her face. Dancing to my ears from her lips.
She caressed my cheek briefly before returning to the crowd. I followed her, chasing her as she tried to get away. No-one else seemed to notice her as she pushed past them on the busy sidewalk. Fi
11 Ways: Chap 11 - EnthralledP.S.: Let me reiterate to you once again that I am the queen of cheese - and the last line will likely make you groan :;:enter saucy wink of your choice here:;:11 Ways: Chap 11 - Enthralled8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The first time in his life Kakashi was ever made completely unaware of his surroundings he was enthralled.
That one kiss had marked a change in their relationship that neither was able to ignore or reverse. Once the tension between them had found an outlet it was impossible to rebuild the dam and prevent it from happening again, over and over.
Having a release now had the singular benefit that they were able to choose the time and place and so were able to cool it off around other people; no sense getting people even more suspicious about things that weren't any of their business to begin with. In private however (typically meaning they somehow found themselves alone in a room or alleyway as they had as of
would know. where it isyou are soft like fallen argumentswould know. where it is8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
you are crumpled like forgotten footpath clothes
you are fading like the morning, as i fade into the day, losing the moment-by-moment with a blink
you are soft like chamomile flowers rumpled petalled in my hands, dusting the floor yellow, staining my hands as a dream i had, that you were in and not in
and when i woke up i found my self, if it was only a moment, a moment is all that i needed, to know, need to not know... all these are just moments strung together?
strung together, plaited together
spread together like a charm
these fingers dance along the nothing
taken in by the inertia enchanting of the trail of blown out candle smoke. it shifts and burns silver grey in my early-much-too-early morning eyes
you are soft, and i am weak, and i am travelling where you never
where you never
where you never thought
you sought the wrong-right things out of me at the right-wrong times
and i am full of mean-well
that you cannot savour, no you cannot save her
it isnt really an island, butthis skin i'm init isnt really an island, but8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it isn't me so much
as my toes
are my feet
my fingers are my hands
my eyes my face;
and it isn't me
so much, when i smile
or cry, or fall apart
down splitting sides
it isn't me so much
these lips (that speak
for me) and i rarely invade
the privacy of my heart
but then i get lost, in
all the things that are
supposed to be (me, but
aren't), in who they are
and why (no matter
how hoarse i make her throat
with screaming after her)
she doesn't come when i call
I have Is in the back of my hedonism.
When I finish there will be a river
Translucent and cascading
I know you are a busy man, but just try to think of it from my point of view."
What, in a g-string and bra?
When I begin there will be no end
dust dancesThey say it is a fire in the belly, but I start to think it is lights. Perching high along the ceiling, viewing all the stages of decay as the peacock feather green peek-a-boo peels itself off and dust dances spores into this waste we call oxygen. We breathe.dust dances8 years ago in General More Like This
I would grow watermelons for you in my stomach fields if you would like the time to feel the seeds beating. But I dont remember if I ever asked you. Little watermelons of light; pink lights growing red. Dont swallow.
He asked me for a day, he said, we could pretend we were explosive happy, and smile so much our cheeks sting like apples, and laugh until we wheeze like horses. But how do you pretend youre pretending, he never told me. I think I seem to miss the point sometimes.
I cannot recall the name of the streets we lived in, on that day. But I remember the clouds and their foray with the birds, and the sun swords chivalrous and terrible across the zephyr pull, and push of yo
act i into(beauty)act i into8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
obscured into a blur
i become fluid with the silent
motion of the lines
my eyes are a continuing moment
along the spectrum of heard
seen tasted felt
this is the wonder of is
i miss the genesis
the before the flood
the fluid motion
of calling home the birds
with a scattering of seeds
the tips of your hair
dapple bright ecstasies
on your reflection
they drip the terror
from your throat
a tracing of your skin
under my skin print
injects memory into my fingers
and solidifies in silence
it was raining when-
it was raining when-
it was raining when you held your parasol high
and laughed at the sun
it was bright light then-
it was bright light then-
it was bright light then when your umbrella on
pulled laughter from the bus
(a he i
my condolences for your
wake up, wake up
it isn't morning
but for the tumble
for the tumble
i give you warmth