you in your mouthi am curious about you
of course, i'd like
to know how many sugars
if any, i think i'd like
to know how well
done. but i'm not sure
of course, if i should be
curious (or otherwise)
if it is indecent
of me to speculate
ponder how much milk
wonder what textures
maybe i should wait
for the situation
to present itself
rather than spend
these days thinking
-truth-will you meet me in the spaces-truth-6 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
in the future. nowi cannot tellin the future. now6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
whether or not
it's the weather
or my toes are
cold for other
on top of me
like all the
oceans and all
and dead things
and oil spills
and a need
it is only a romantic notion
a dream for a higher purpose
special things that seperate
there was something worth it
up there, you told me
no one would ever think to look for me
(i too, deserve the sun, sometimes, sometimes)
you asked never
you asked never to
never to sing
you asked never
never to sing
you asked never
never to sing
never to sing
never to sing that song to you
watercolour my eyes a song
over the mountains
hold my ears close
and berate brush strokes - to my
solidify words in my mouth
so hard and crystal sharp
they bleed into my stomach
and grow trees up my pipes
blooming you morning
on all my photographs
a decade ago i
If you keep your eyes closedI start, but I begin to faulterIf you keep your eyes closed7 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
Act of KindnessWARNING!!! This passage is a bit long! If your not sure you want to read it I suggest that you look at the description first! Please enjoy!Act of Kindness3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I did something once for a boy that I never knew or had ever known, though I did see him every Friday. Our paths would slide by each other on that day. He stood on a corner near my school and smoked American Spirit. We wouldn't wave or acknowledge each other for the longest time. Then one day he wasn't there, and I found myself worried. Another week passed and he returned and I talked to him. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he had not been the
i love the way i say ithow come perfection could be the smile of apology you made when you were always latei love the way i say it7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how come perfection could be
velocity isnt lost each time
the bounce has changed
there arent enough sides inside
my skull to play any
Daddy is an artistDaddy doesnt need waterDaddy is an artist5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For his bloody knuckles
To color pretty pictures,
He'll exhibit with pride when the work is done.
All he really needs
Are his eight red markers
To help him express the anger
He keeps bottled up inside.
Daddy is an artist and I am
Living proof of his ability
To cause pain.
My skin is a canvas you can use over and over again,
Welcome to the museum of horrors
Where you can admire the beauty
In every bruise, scrape and blood stain.
reminder to selfwhen i grow up i'm going to get bags andreminder to self6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
bags of seeds and scatter them in the
rain all around my neighbourhood,
chuck them into empty lots.
i'm going to get a mirror
and write you are
beautiful on the top of
it and put it on a wall
of a building on a busy street and
when i grow up i'm going
to write love letters to
strangers and big descriptions of
what i did today
and post them to street addresses i'll
make up and put toys and random
objects in people's letter boxes, like
a corkscrew and a live frog
and i'm going to get a white board
with a pen and put it in an alley way
and put a sticker saying my
thought of the day on
the bottom of it then
me and my friend, we'll
stand on the opposites of the
street and pretend we're pulling
on a big rope and hope the car
crashes aren't too loud
and i'll draw a map of everywhere i've
seen wild fennel growing, and mint and
mulberries and take you there. i'll make
you a tea that stains your teeth with
the water we got for free from the
WaterI lap at your feet, welcoming you into my depths.Water5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Seducing your toes to step closer, wade further
Its a cool day, and I offer warmth and comfort
Begging you to swim, even though you know
That danger lurks with me
I entice your senses,
A single dance with the darkness
A sway into danger,
Cant be that bad,
- Stain -Stain- Stain -6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Do you remember the old pain,
the tears and the acid rain,
us making love on a fast train,
the pleasure of going insane,
the madness infusing my brain,
the red in that blood stain
I still do.
The ViolinistOz drew his bow across the violin's strings, testing the instrument's sound. The third string was a little off, so he turned a tuning peg and tried it again.The Violinist4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He opened his eyes and looked around him. The sun was beginning to set behind some of the few remaining skyscrapers-halves of skyscrapers, really-and the ruins of the city were tinted orange. The rubble here was old-he could always tell they were old by the few straggly plants that desperately thrust themselves up through gaps in the chunks of concrete that blanketed the ground. Old ruins had a smell, too, and a sound; a city newly destroyed was a painfully noisy place, buildings would continue to collapse, there was screaming and sirens, and the stench was always the same: blood and panic at first and then rotting flesh. That was, of course, assuming the bomb hadn't gone off in the city, but only near enough to destroy the buildings and kill the people.
But this place had seen its last radiation-poisoned soul perhaps a h
triumvirate I. the big bangtriumvirate6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
with her we wove a galaxy;
my body was built from the light
of others, meteors of thought blazed through
our history, faded, left us wanting more.
still they linger. we crashed, argued, grew,
swelled until we burst. eurekas painted us,
our hands, cheeks, lungs, and finally her.
shove the cushion between my teeth, begin
to choke on the fabric, barf up
cotton, every single thing tastes of oil,
feels like lizard skin, pinches my throat,
i am ink blotted, ribs scream as
i rip them out, the holes whistle
why her why her why her why.
i still dream about your palms --
see your voice in reds, pulsing,
see your voice in reds, pulsing.
wish you would just breathe stronger,
wish you would just breathe stronger,
inhale bigger than your smile --
i still dream about your palms.
ProfilefortheCriminallyInsaneProfilefortheCriminallyInsane6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
barefoot kitchen mornings, uncaused causes, teeth-clicking kisses, unexplained bruises,
popsicle sticks, gravel, raw paper, sugar cane plantations, the distance between two
the organic smells of a man's sweatshirt; the exoticism of his deodorant;
the unrepentant belly of an older man and the way it fits right against me,
convex to concave.
face-licking; floral incense romantic dinners; the whir of the treadmill;
the green light under the escalator; form-fitting maternity clothes; those
rotating hotel doors.
running instead of walking, skipping instead of running,
burrowing in a soft yielding not-chest not-shoulder, and
telling stories that mostly aren't true but should be.
Who I'd Like to Meet:
Charles Manson, Colonel Mustard, Van Veen,
the man who hung the stars and
the girl who keeps them clean.
god and bluffingSometimes late at night God would sneak in my room through my window to play poker. I'd hear a tap and then him crawl in without waiting for me to open it.god and bluffing7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I think he is drunk most of the time by the way he slurs his words.
I'm sitting on the floor, a deck of cars sitting in front of me and him standing in front of those, staring at me. Grinning.
"Hey, if you win this first hand I'll totally end world hunger." he says.
The way he says world hunger, it sounds like "whirlunger".
I shuffle, not really acknowledging him because whenever we do make these bets he never keeps his end of the bargain.
He stares at me.
"Yeah, sure," I say, "Whatever."
He grins again and plops himself down on the floor.
I deal the cards. One for him, one for me, one for him, one for me. He picks up his cards as I deal them. His eyes never give a hint as to what his hand is.
And I was never good at bluffing.
His eyes find mine and he picks two cards o
3 ps.3 ps6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her mother always told her
that love thrived off the three p's.
"You must be pretty,
and perfect. Or not man
will ever love you."
All she could think was
she was pretty positive
she wasn't perfect.
it isn't really autumnwe taught our graceit isn't really autumn6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to fly, and it taught
us to stay
tethered to our dreams
in a frightful way
like leaves do to branches
something about a rainforestsomething about a rainforest10 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
It was almost December when he told me about the rainforest. There's this plant, he said, It only grows in the rainforests of Queensland, in Australia. That night I stayed up listening to him talk about everything from Marxist philosophy to distortion pedals to the construction of clocks. I didn't care. I liked his words.
It has these huge leaves, he continued, That are covered in tiny microscopic silicone tubes that help the tree get water. The thing is, if you touch the leaves, they come off on you. They're like needles and they're so small but they hurt like shit. They stay under your skin for months until you regenerate every place it touched. And anytime you get water on them, it goes through the tubes and you have all this water below the surface. Supposed to be one of the most painful things possible.
He stopped and looked at me and for a second I tried to imagine filling up with water right beneath my skin. He was right, it hurt.
I said Yes some people can do that too. You touc
The Girlheart GivenThere were freckles on your faceThe Girlheart Given6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
and stars in your hair,
and you pumped moonlight
in your veins.
You were dangerous
and I sat on your
Your room was
a princess room
and there was always
candy on your bed.
Fruit was hidden
in all your clothes,
criminals were in your attic,
your walls were made of
and they were always
You gave me your girl-heart
in the bathtub.
You drowned in that bathtub.
You drowned in bathtub bubbles
as you sobbed.
Your skin was fluorescent light.
One day, the flames grew higher,
and no one noticed that we were on fire.
All the water in the world turned red.
I left you bleeding by yourself.
I took a razor from my back-pack,
got a ladder from the garage,
and cut into the sky until it screamed.
The ground was soaked red.
Love you in RedI love you in redLove you in Red6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
said the bullet
to the head
as it exploded
like a melon
by a mallet
as the cars were changing lanes
bits of grey matter
out of the carpet
a fresh tomato
from the market...
OH... where did I put that brain?!?!?!?
spatter marks of red
like the gun
it's the nail
in the coffin
Soft and OnlyToday I smiledSoft and Only6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
and I wish you to know that
you inspired it
for your sakeyou will always be wonderfulfor your sake5 years ago in Open More Like This
whether you sleep, or spend
dreamless nights twisting
into frenzied question marks
whether you awake, awash
with tears and fear
and wonder, for long moments
where and why you are
(i hope, for your sake
that from now on, your nights
are contained, safely
i hope, for your sake
that from now on, your nights
are iambic, in rhyme
Tu.Tu.Tu.6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
colma della tua assenza,
mi assordi col tuo silenzio.
full of your absence,
you deafen me with your silence.
comforti want nothing morecomfort6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
than for you to fall asleep
in my broken arms.
Almond Orchard Flowers.I dream of youAlmond Orchard Flowers.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as I sleep next to you.
I break into a sweat & travel
across deserts. My scalp
becomes an ocean
and I become claustrophobic
My dream is this.
I wake up, my zipper is down, my
stomach has needles in it, and you
have broken me free of the metal caging fitted
to all my day-pale skin. You have let me free, and
the broken jewels are on the floor next to us, next to us.
My nose is dirty, and my eyes are red as roses,
wild like tangled spider-webs. I tell you
I have sickle cell anemia, &
I will love you from the heart of a child in an orchard,
because that is all
I have ever been.
Gandhi Was HardcoreYou are wearing all my clothes,Gandhi Was Hardcore6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you look better in them.
Your belly button is
as big as the world,
or an apple.
And it is crying.
You have cardboard boxes on your floor,
with vintage dresses, white ribbons, &
black sequins, dirty clothes from when
you used to live an island life. We
watch the misty streets, realize they are
actually smoky, look up at the pale pink
sky, the faded neon red circle sun. Your
eyes are perfect circles, too, and you sweat
rainbow colors in the cold.
Everything is holy.
You have a picture of Albert Einstein
on your wall and you sit, watching him,
and let vegetables ferment in your mouth.
Your yellow chair smells like India,
your skin smells like chai, and your
piano smells like blood.
You drink the juice of celery sticks
as big as the sky, wear a parsley crown, &
white flower necklaces. You eat the halves
of apples and bang on the piano. The
flesh around your neck is raw, your shoes