she knows her paper cuts by name.Rose blood
on her tongue
reminds her of yesterday's.
A heart's hoarded secrets,
love me pretties, &
scarlet letter dreams.
do these boys know
of the bitter winter
like a blizzard
in her veins?
The sharp edges
or the crisscross
of origami limbs?
as deep &
as the ocean;
Dear Poetry,I might be dangerously on the verge of being poetic, but-Dear Poetry, in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes I don't feel me in my own skin.
I am too many breaks between pulses,
& a heart still living in the autumn of 99.
I'm telling stories about a girl.
A soul made of ink & godly metaphors,
too much for a non-homeostatic body.
There were once fireflies in her smile,
alight between the gaps in her teeth.
love letters carved into wrists
she never sent.
She is Porphyria, & you are her lover.
Writer ScarsI have told my secretsWriter Scars in Free Verse More Like This
through loves ink -
painted them to my skin
with watercolor defiance.
& writers, we sometimes
write about our scars
in riddles, layers upon
layers of thought, -
care for them
on the warlands
of our bodies.
we give them faces,
we give them names,
we give them gravestones.
We kill them off
in our stories,
make them villains,
make them heroes.
I have wrists that roar,
& I will be damned
if I don’t let them
tell their stories.
Sun Child,I am freezingSun Child, in Free Verse More Like This
& I am hungry
for fever’s lips-
her inky fingers
a dry stomach.
My body is an ocean,
my limbs, but oars.
My tongue & teeth,
a life raft
keeping this madness
from sinking into blue.
Offering up 102 degrees
You would think
I had something to say.
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterfliesNaPoWriMo- Day 5 in Free Verse More Like This
until she realized their beauty
rubbed off on her fingers;
but she will always be loving you
with those digits.
20 years from now
when even the love on her arms
I think you left a piece of you in me.This tangled mess you call a heart,I think you left a piece of you in me. in Free Verse More Like This
daisy veins & sin;
She's bringing me down.
& you were merely shivering
pressing winter bones
against my sun-stricken mouth,
darkness searching for a home
buried in my lungs.
You whispered breathe me
lovely in the inhale/exhale
of carbon dioxide suicide.
She speaks only of you now,
lonely & mourning beats-
Crack open this damn ribcage;
Bones mend, but tell no lies.You have cataloged your scarsBones mend, but tell no lies. in Free Verse More Like This
like your body is a library-
to be read through &
You think of
all the little boys
whose greedy fingers
You are angry-
cared for you
They left you
on a shelf
to gather dust.
should you ever
I want to forget names,& faces,I want to forget names, in Free Verse More Like This
I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.
Spine full, and spiteful:
I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.
I want to cry for her
& for me.
she wont allow me the courtesy.
It is 9 in the afternoon& I have forgottenIt is 9 in the afternoon in Free Verse More Like This
how to write in poetics-
tongue kissed & gaping like
a siren missing from her sea.
I have been coughing up black
for days. Unable to clean the taste
from my mouth, these broken
typewriter keys sewn into my
fingertips scream something fierce.
They ache with longing
to tell of a story
that left them
for a better high
a story that never deserved
to make a home under the skin,
to crawl breech through an
-& out through the wrists
of young girls much too ripe
to fall from their beds.
I am so damn tired
of looking over railings
& wondering what
it would feel like
i am a magenta february.Winteri am a magenta february. in Free Verse More Like This
is still clinging
to my skin,
sleeping within the tangles
of my night witch hair.
65 days to learn
& Icarus, with his
sun kissed fingers
my throat, giggles
knowingly in my ear.
I have misplaced my
of a heart
so many times,
I’m not even sure
it ever existed
they never lie-
Covered in frost
I am a magenta
the imprint of teeth
that bruised centuries
& bed sheets.
The PoetThe Poet:The Poet in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
Painted SkinPainted Skin:Painted Skin in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles at you, as you enter the office;
Wearing eyeliner made of contempt and disdain.
His cheap cologne invades your nostrils immediately
And you quickly suppress a cough.
"Yes, yes, indeed we have to review this...er, many things are involved."
His face is powdered with a layer of self-importance;
Lips reddened by the polite harshness he spews.
His forked tongue flickers as he prattles on
And you're really getting quite tired.
"Oh I'm sorry! Of course, of course I understand; but my way is much better!"
You're getting really bored now, so you take a look around the room.
The expectation is to see it bedecked with acolades;
Yet bare walls, cold and empty, are all that greets you.
"Are you listening to me, I'm telling you why this isn't good enough. LISTEN TO ME!"
You take a look at the cup of coffee you were offered,
Cheap and lukewarm; you narrow your eyes.
"Is there a problem? I'm being honest, this is for YOUR OWN GOOD!"
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.I Comfort Myself in Free Verse More Like This
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Six Words for a SlumpSix Words For A Slump:Six Words for a Slump in Free Verse More Like This
You're tired, unable to create anything.
You feel angry; the anatomy's wrong!
Why won't these words come together?
"Nothing's right anymore, my hands tremble..."
Yet the solution is fairly simple...
I'm showing it to you now;
Break up your ideas, smaller sized.
They come together, like in Tetris.
Rotate the blocks; shape your art.
Draw chibis and stick figures too.
Instead of epics, try a haiku.
How about a six word story?
If your mind is blocked, overheated.
Let it cool; take it slow.
By attempting all the smaller things,
Your art is sure to grow.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th January 2013
It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:It Came From The Dark in Free Verse More Like This
Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,
Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.
Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,
And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.
It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,
It cared not for the sensation of pain...
All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -
One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!
Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,
And in that moment, it learned of the truth.
For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -
-Chen Yuan Wen, 11th December 2012
Poetic Practice - Love Like AshPoetic Practice - Love Like Ash:Poetic Practice - Love Like Ash in Free Verse More Like This
Yes sir, he is clinging to insanity.
He remembers all the things he said, profanity.
Bare the shame on his naked old humanity.
He is the doll claiming love for his vanity-
When he woke up, desire!
He made a move like fire.
His whispers; a liar,
His heart snaps, like wire!
But what are you thinking of this man as I make him out?
Is it an image or a type that you seem to tout.
was it all his fault with no one else to blame,
Or were there cracks in the story that they both will claim-
Spit that and live that,
Hate when you love that!
You rip that and tear that,
Scream like you know that!
Stop for a moment and just listen to this silent cry,
Time has stopped now for both of us to say goodbye.
Both turning on these clocks, living lies that have stopped;
And when the love turns to ash, let the gloves be dropped...
- Chen Yuan Wen, 17th January 2013
The Way We LiveThe Way We Live:The Way We Live in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We all have our own little struggles;
Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.
A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,
I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.
But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.
I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.
I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,
And even then I'd never give up the right to race.
I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,
Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.
I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,
But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.
And that's all it takes just to keep this body going.
With calloused hands in this ocean I'm still rowing
Searching for some land out amidst a sea of black;
A wandering gypsy bearing burdens on his back.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2013
You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:You Left Me Stronger in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?
I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.
You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong
I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.
I thought a lot about the things you said...
The things that were my fault, my problems.
I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.
I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.
On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;
You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.
You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge like a parasite
When everything is good - when everything is fine and dandy.
I used to think that I was afraid of you leaving,
But now I know, that you've left me stronger than I was before.
You know, this was supposed to be an emotional whine; an emotional spill,
Maybe I was supposed to cry tears and beg you to come back, but you know wha
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:Practice Poem - Man In Cage in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,
Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;
So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.
I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.
But what do I have to show for it?
White hot scars that burn in my dreams.
Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;
Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".
Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,
So desperately crying out for vindication;
Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,
Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...
Within four walls I sleep in exile;
Quietly pretending that I am still sane,
Never noticing how it has all turned out;
Alone I remain the same...
Never reaching, never living; I am free within the cage
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st January 2012
Dark Sadistic Muse:Dark Sadistic Muse:Dark Sadistic Muse: in Free Verse More Like This
I seat myself before the computer,
With fingers poised over fading keys.
Eagerly awaiting my latest epic;
Yet frozen by a lack of inspiration.
Here I sit, staring at the blank document.
The dark background mirroring the world behind me.
I swallow hard as my body locks;
Hairs tense as I sense her arrival...
Slender fingers soon wrap themselves around my throat.
With claw-like nails digging in painfully,
They prick the skin that lies just beneath my Adam’s apple;
Leaving me nursing a rather painful necklace.
"Your hands aren't moving," she coos softly,
Her clawed fingers gently stroking my chin.
"Why is that, I wonder?" she asks with a grin.
Her expression reveals a pair of pointed canines,
Both framed by lips as seductive as sin.
"I'm sorry my lady", I whisper in reply.
The excuse tumbles slowly from a paralyzed tongue.
"I have had no inspiration you see;
No dreams with which I am able to write."
She laughs at this; cruel and cold,
Tossing me from
FragmentsI call them fragments, the parts of me that were too exhausted to stay. He calls them flecks because I am a flake. I wish I was a flake. It sounds prettier than being a fragment. Flakes are like snow. Soothing, falling from the sky on the tip of his tongue that melt and disappear. Fragments are archeological findings of a scarred past we really should not remember.Fragments in Free Verse More Like This
I want to remember my scars. So I am a fragment.
I draw on my legs. When my skin dries out, I use my index finger as a pencil and draw what the clouds are trying to tell me. Sometimes it’s a dog, and sometimes it’s a bear and sometimes it is his face looking at me disapprovingly.
That is when I stop drawing.
At night, when the rain falls, I sit at the bay window and pretend to write stories whilst he pretends to sleep. “What are you writing?” he will ask in his asleep voice. “A funny story.” It is not. It is a pale, scary story, and it looks like my skin. “Were you dreamin
Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,Crayon Soulmates in Free Verse More Like This
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing your mother's cigarettes and your father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My mother threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that girls are not supposed to have such dreams.).
He had hair as ebony as deep onyx and a smile that never grew up (Peter Pan would have been proud). He was magic in soul form, and smelled like cinnamon and the earth after it has rained. His eyes rivaled a lions on the best of his youth, his words were story shaped. His skin was an ink coloured canvas of wonder and even in crayon he was a sight of awe.
Broken Sleep, Red LipstickI am only an insomniac when it rains. The pitter patter of the raindrops reminds me of the pitter patter of cat paws.Broken Sleep, Red Lipstick in Free Verse More Like This
(He liked to sleep at my feet when I could barely think, just to make me feel better. I think you used to tell him to.)
I wish I could wrap your memories around my spine and wear them as a backbone, because they are stronger than the arch my broken spined back seems to have developed of late.
(Spines are oddly brittle, and a lot like wrists. Easy to break and forever to heal.)
But I cannot depend of any of that anymore. So I wear red lipstick and high heels and go to parties and tell strangers how amazing they are to be wearing red lipstick and high heels and how different they must be to come to this party instead of the other one.
(All because you would hate parties and think nightlife is so stupid.)
It is what I do with my insomnia. Because my spineless back, the memories of you incessantly looped in my sleeplessly addled brain and the raindrops
My Name is Hollow.Hello.My Name is Hollow. in Free Verse More Like This
My name is Hollow.
I live inside your soul.
Under the layers and layers of skin,
and tissue and muscle...
all the way down where nothing
and everything survives.
(I wish I knew before I trusted you
That lying is second nature to one
with as many regrets as you.)
My name is Hollow.
I live inside you now,
because you gave me the power
in all your virtuous belief
that the world was good
to survive your strength...
(I hoped to God you wouldn't
lie or steal or break what is already
a thousand pieces of a broken soul.)
My name is Hollow.
You let me in when sex
began to feel like an ache.
But the pain felt better than
dealing with the hurt
inside your head, your heart...
(This was always a world for those
that were harder than me
Strength is sometimes a very relative thing.)
My name is Hollow.
I am the jagged lines you draw
all along your skin,
your muscles, your bones...
The sharp edge of a knife,
the scarlet drops of remorse.
(Here's a question now for your
This is Not a Story about SuicideI am not here. These are not hospital walls. This is not a nurse who is speaking to me. That is not John unconscious, lying in a bed that faces due North, and that is not his mother trying to explain why his bed should always face North because he hates sleeping facing South.This is Not a Story about Suicide in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This is not happening.
I am not taking a deep breath. I am not walking down the sickly white corridors with their bleach scent. I am not buying this cup of coffee from a cafeteria lady who is working at an hour that is reserved only for intensive care patients. This is not the way back to what is not John’s room.
That is not his heart rate dropping, and I am not running out of the room, screaming for help. We are not being pushed out, that door does not have a red light that claims intensive care, it has not been all night.
That is not John’s doctor explaining how they were not able to pump his stomach completely and it is not John who flat lined. That is not an empty hospital bed. That is not his moth
ApplesSweet and sensual,Apples in Free Verse More Like This
The feel of your fingers on my skin.
Slow and longing,
The trail of your hands on my curves.
Languid and helpless,
The pulsing of my veins under your masterful strokes.
My love for you is like my love for apples.
Juicy, crunchy, delicious...
And as dark as a sinner's heart.
When Your Best is Not Good EnoughDon't speak.When Your Best is Not Good Enough in Free Verse More Like This
Don't hold yourself together.
Don't fall apart.
Don't pretend it is all going to be okay.
Don't act like it won't be all right.
Don't touch me.
Don't look away from me.
Don't be so needy.
Don't be so grateful.
Don't act silly.
Don't be so serious.
Don't have so much fun.
Don't be so sullen.
Don't love anyone too much.
Don't be so selfish.
Don't ignore me.
Don't love me too much.
And hope? Hope is just a lie you tell yourself so that tomorrow, you can do it all over again.
Pros and Cons1. I am not writing a list of things that will make me hate you, as you supposed, but more a list that would help me move on. I always hated how you were very practical that way, even about emotional distress. I am not writing about the trouble with you being your incorrigible logic, your lack of tact.Pros and Cons in Free Verse More Like This
2. I am not writing this because I have a habit of doing what you say, and perhaps, just maybe this would give me closure.
3. I am not going to write about how beautiful your mouth is, and how it seems like something that would have been kisses by an angel.
4. I am not going to write about how your voice tremors when you speak of loneliness.
5. I am not going to write about how you are worthy of songs and dances and plays to be written for your lack of wonder at war, sex or alcohol, you aren’t that interesting.
6. I am not going to write about the day you sat me down and dragged me down with you, just so you could complain about how much I loved angel wings and sketches of pretty e
You call it Judgement, We call it SinEmily needs the words to understand that she isn't being unreasonable. She just wants them to mean something and not be a string of words which flows into itself over and over again.You call it Judgement, We call it Sin in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She doesn't like her name either. Not because Emily isn't a pretty name but because she would rather be called something she feels like. (She has never quite forgiven her parents for choosing her name for her.) If she could, she would call herself Glass, because that is what she wakes up feeling like every morning. As if crystallised pieces of glass are edible and her insides tingle as she swallows them whole.
Emily lets the words call her names sometimes. She writes them on her knees so that she can remember them. Sometimes the words call her a whore, and sometimes stupid, and sometimes a loser and sometimes a tramp (She has never learnt that loving too much is a crime and boys with pretty eyes sometimes lie.). She sits in the bathroom with a pen the colour of blood and writes them carefully
The JokeThe first joke is when they tell you to be strong for everybody else after your father leaves for the fourth time.The Joke in Free Verse More Like This
The next joke is when they tell you to stop being sensitive when the children at school choose to hurt you for being differentstrangeodd.
The wrong joke is when they tell you to be quiet after the beating your mother has given you has bloodied your face and you can't see through swelled shut eyes.
The funny joke is when they tell you to shut up when you stand up against the man with lifeless eyes who tried to make you as lifeless as himself.
The unaware joke is when they tell you that you should have defended yourself when three men come at you in a dark alley.
The painful joke is when they tell you you should be grateful that the man who raped you didn't kill you as well.
The angry joke is when they tell you that you are wrong for existing because being gaybilesbiantransexual is a sin.
The ignorant joke is when they tell you to be less provocative with your man when he pu
Be gentle, love.Be gentle,Be gentle, love. in Free Verse More Like This
my body is too heavy
hollowed out and
filled back up
Be gentle, love.
Be gentle and
let me lay here,
still and silent,
until my emptiness
As luck would have it.I have visited theAs luck would have it. in Free Verse More Like This
halls of the mental wards
three times in this
The first time
I was driven through.
with two left feet
and a thirst for
its own blood.
The second time
I was carried through.
Cradled and cold,
a child with wax wings.
I'd flown too close
to the sun.
The third time
was by my own hand.
I was tired.
I had had enough.
I was ready to be
Feet up on the dashboard.We're driving and I don't know where.Feet up on the dashboard. in Free Verse More Like This
I know that once upon a time
beauty and terror happened to me all at once
and since that night I haven't been able
to tell the two apart,
and I know that your left hand is
more beautiful than your right, but your
right knows how to touch me best.
"every mouth I've ever kissed
was practice for you,"
and I said,
"darling I don't care,
I've kissed them too."
And you know that what I mean is
I've kissed the ashes of their memory from
your lips and shovelled them from between
your teeth with my tongue,
that I'd pry
them from the back of your throat if
I thought you'd try to hide them
And we know so much
and so little between us, it's
enough to keep us driving
through the night.
Feet up on the dashboard,
headlights and streetlights and endlights
we just keep going,
no feeling has ever been
as final as this.
Birthday celebrations.Twenty-three cigarettesBirthday celebrations. in Free Verse More Like This
at midnight in honour of
the years you might have
but chose not to.
The art of self-destruction.I have spentThe art of self-destruction. in Free Verse More Like This
my whole life perfecting
how to separate my
insides from the
outsides without a
scar to show.
My arms have been
weapons instead of shields
and I have built no other
walls to defend me.
I grew up in
this house of flesh
and instead of tending
to its needs I have
been letting people
set it on fire instead
of loving me.
The problem with writing poetry.The problem with writing poetryThe problem with writing poetry. in Free Verse More Like This
is that real life doesn't write nice poems.
Your budget is not going to
inspire anything but stress, perhaps,
and the unwashed linen won't
make hearts soar.
To write nice poems,
you have to take real life and
twist vines into its hair,
set its bare feet down on the forest
floor and call it free.
Love letter to myself.Small handed girl,Love letter to myself. in Free Verse More Like This
you've written the truth
of your scars wherever there's
space to write it
and I love you.
They painted over
the rape you wrote about
on the front door of
your Uncle's house
and I love you.
They took the floorboards
of your bedroom out where you'd
carved the shape of your
father's fist into their
and I love you.
You shook the sand of
your fifteenth birthday out of
your hair and into a jar
you keep under the bed to
remember a girl with crooked
teeth and bony knees who
fled and flew
and I love you.
You've built yourself into a
fortress with nothing but your
fingernails and shredded skin
and you let him in when he
waited by the door instead of
forcing his way
and I love you.
Starving sleep and apologies.My sleep is starving.Starving sleep and apologies. in Free Verse More Like This
It is shivering sweat like snow
across my shoulders as I sob scream
after scream against your skin;
"sorry, I'm so sorry,
go back to sleep."
I am sad
and struggling to stay
together but you slump
against my sickness
and hold me
A letter I'll never send.The letter I keep writingA letter I'll never send. in Free Verse More Like This
to my children.
I have never told you
that I once lost you to my
that your tiny flailing
fists once made me feel as if
the world was striking out
at me through you.
I used to feed you in
the bath tub, wondering if
perhaps I could let your
weight drag us under.
I still believe that it was
you who kept me afloat.
I keep writing this letter
to keep me calm, to keep me from
hating myself for ever thinking
of you as burdens.
And someday I want to tell you
that I once lost myself to
my own sadness, and that
it was you that kept
My Master's VoiceI screamed at him "I'm leaving!"My Master's Voice in Free Verse More Like This
He smiled and said "okay"
I said "no, for once I mean it
This time you wont make me stay"
But bags were never really packed
And that night in our bed I lay
The taste of blood on my lips
Still remained there the next day
I screamed at him "please stop this!
I am the Mother to your child
Baby, I know you have a temper
I know my ways make you so wild"
"But I promise I'll try harder
Not to push your buttons so much"
With that the beast resumed control
As I quiver at each stolen touch
They scream at me to leave him
To them it's such a simple choice
But it's been so long since I've heard
Anything but my master's voice
To the point that I no longer know
My own mind or my own heart
But today he said he's sorry again
And tomorrow will be a fresh start
SinkingRecently I've been sinkingSinking in Free Verse More Like This
Like a stone into a pond
Having skimmed across the surface
Of life for far too long
Please may I have a new heart
Along with a new mind
I cannot reverse this feeling
No, I'm sorry, not this time
Recently I've been sinking
Into myself like quicksand
No one sees as it swallows me
Each grain a mislaid plan
Please may I crawl inside your love
Mingle hearts until the end
I cannot reverse this feeling
No, I'm sorry, not again
Recently I've been sinking
Such an overused metaphor
But one which is cathartic
When choosing to explore
That I could save you my love
And in time you could save me
As fear and loneliness will dissolve
Doused in our empathy
That Girl In The MirrorHappiness will remain forever out of reachThat Girl In The Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
When love from your life you omit
To the girl in the mirror; you are beautiful
Yet somehow you never quite fit
Not the girl they thought you’d turn out to be
When you were a neonate child
Born with a raging heart and a raging mind
But with a manner ever so mild
Your scars aren’t always visible to them
And not only hidden under attire
Lacerations to the mind are just as abhorrent
When memories and dreams conspire
So girl break the mirror if you have to
And reflect on your life as a whole
Do you really want to spend the rest of your days
Behind a façade of self control?
Please be strong enough to go your own way
Indeed go against the grain
In your field of dreams stand up and be counted
And maybe others will do the same
You are unique and you are so beautiful
You’re everything someone else is not
The light of your reflection will shine on
Through the looking glass your childhood begot
The Little Girl BlinkedThe little girl blinked and he was goneThe Little Girl Blinked in Free Verse More Like This
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
Though he never existed beyond her thoughts
He was as real as a chrysalis on a tree
The butterfly perhaps was her freedom
The caterpillar was her memories
But she still sees his face in the reflection
Of her brown eyes in the cracked mirror
Knowing that he is alive and well
And is always going to be with her
People never understand reality
We are just
We Are Already GhostsHeart rate monitors showWe Are Already Ghosts in Free Verse More Like This
Minimal signs of life
But no more and no less
Than of a parasite
Feeding from a life-force
That's greater than itself
We are the lost children
In need of some help
X-ray images show
The absence of a heart
Incapable of love
We are ready to depart
All these forgotten girls
And all these forgotten boys
Together we will feel
The emptiness, the void
As MRI scans show
We have beautiful minds
Just no memory recall
Of any happy times
It's too little, too late
These words are verbose
We've long since departed
We are already ghosts
Suicide On Your LipsI tried so hard to pull awaySuicide On Your Lips in Free Verse More Like This
At the end of the night when we kissed
But as you begged me once again to stay
I could taste suicide on your lips
And such an intoxicating fragrance
Far removed from the stench of death
Such a beautiful perfume of life
Of a lost girl hollow from neglect
Am I too late to save her my Lord
Will those lips ever smile again
When razorblade remedies are scarring
Her beautiful porcelain skin
You spoke of your sorrows till midnight
Then you slept in my arms until dawn
Awoke and cried tears until midday
For your past and your present you mourned
And when the last tear finally fell
I explained I'd never leave your side
Heartfelt words alone wouldn't do
I painted our future with pride
Together we created a masterpiece
A magnum opus beyond compare
I now kiss those lips on a basis daily
The taste of suicide is no longer there
Note MeThey found my love hangingNote Me in Free Verse More Like This
By a rope from a tree
With a note in her pocket
That was addressed to me
The stains of her tears
On the ripped out blank page
Evidence to my eyes
Of an emotional pain
The last tears she would shed
The last anguish she'd feel
The deepest cut to her heart
This time would not heal
And nor did it need to
Her earthly shackles left behind
Time now has no meaning
And meaning now has no time
Unfolding the piece of paper
Even the fresh air suffocates
Scribbled down , hurried scrawl
'if you're reading this, you are too late'
I fall to the floor frantic
Clutch the note to my face
Trying to catch my loves essence
Before in the wind, it drifts away
19 Years OldI was just nineteen years old19 Years Old in Free Verse More Like This
When I cut myself in two
The boy I wanted them to see
And the boy they never knew
Hid my hollow bones away
I've been hiding ever since
Yes, you may see the odd smile
But only ever a glimpse
But my heart was never broken
It was born in several pieces
And with every passing year
The size of the segments decreases
I was just nineteen years old
When I died for the first time
I did not cope so well
With leaving my childhood behind
I didn't want to face up
To these wretched bent back blues
But will I give in to the struggle?
No, with respect I refuse
See my grandfather gave me
The stubborn heart of an ox
I will die before I collapse
A coward I am not
LightningHe was crying lightningLightning in Free Verse More Like This
An impulse from the brain
Unable to ignite his bones
Only serving to drain
A sense of melancholy
For a poor boy so young
Each breath had become a curse
Not a gift from his lung
She was crying lightning
There was calm before the storm
In the eye of the hurricane
Her boy was never warned
A sense of compunction
As once again she rolled the dice
Not once doubting the idiom
Lightning never strikes twice
They were crying lightning
Protons and electrons collide
As she whispered her secrets
Into his ear she confides
A sense of duality
They caress each others spark
Yet they're no longer static
As they emerge from the dark
RemedyA chemical reactionRemedy in Free Verse More Like This
Akin to the wings of a dove
You feel a karmic wind change
From this feeling called love
As I unfurl my wings
To the plague in your heart
I am your remedy
Now the healing can start
A spiritual moment
A timely epiphany
Everything in its right place
Just as it's meant to be
As I unfurl my wings
To the plague in your mind
Within the darkest caverns
I will bring you sunshine
A healing process
We will soothe each other's sores
My love, you are my life line
As much as I am yours
As we spread our arms
Two souls embrace as one
Your remedy is my cure
And our symptoms are now gone
IcarusSun girl,Icarus in Free Verse More Like This
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Unheard of and undefinedSometimes,Unheard of and undefined in Free Verse More Like This
I have this sudden impulse to
bite off my tongue.
It wasn't made for
pretty words and kept promises
in the first place.
Back to back and
straight on til daybreak,
our soliloquy seems never ending.
When was the last time
you remembered to cry for all the broken hearts
that were not your own?
PulsateWhat is a heartbeat,Pulsate in Free Verse More Like This
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?
What am I,
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,Open Heart Surgery in Free Verse More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
confessions of a misguided poetcertain things in my mindconfessions of a misguided poet in Free Verse More Like This
would be better left unsaid,
i. how I stared at a bottle of pills
for an hour as if they would slide down
my throat on their own.
ii. when I stepped out of the shower
with bloody knees and didn't bother
to put a band aid over them.
iii. why I can't keep a smile long
enough for someone to take
iv. who I wanted to be when I was
a little girl and who I am
right here and now.
v. where I tried to jump off a
bridge and landed in water
deep enough for me to swim in.
vi. what I wanted to scream at
you that day but I just stayed
silent and hoped you would forget.
no more pretty words and
today; just life,
the truth, and everything
that I never want to tell
broken dreams and invisible heartstringsEvery morning,broken dreams and invisible heartstrings in Free Verse More Like This
she wakes up to a
hollow chest & stormy,
red rimmed eyes.
It's so easy to be in love
with being in love;
swallowing fake truths
& sincere lies.
But her heart—
it forgot how to smile
two years ago,
because no one can tell
the difference between
imitations & reality.
please find me;
I'm lost between the cracks of
Desperate to breathe
yet wondering how it would feel
she's never belonged
in this universe.
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
these catastrophic disastersTherethese catastrophic disasters in Free Verse More Like This
is a storm inside her
chest; a miasma of
thundering insecurities and
flashes of despair. The irony
is, she has
astraphobia—but inside her
mismatched veins there lies a
tempest awaiting to be
set free. The most beautiful
people have the ugliest of
and hers just happen to be a
hurricane of chaotic
doubt marring the insides of her
curiouser and curiouserseventeen years &curiouser and curiouser in Free Verse More Like This
still chasing white rabbits,
it's no wonder i've never
been in love.
we're all mad here;
no one can find the road to
(i don't know
where to go)
let's fall down a hole.
(i'm just a chrysalis
with no butterfly wings)
off with my head when it
can only imagine nonsense
& clockwork hearts.
give me a cheshire's smile-
i want to know
what it feels like
to be in wonderland.
How to pretend that you are a writer.Act like you're notHow to pretend that you are a writer. in Free Verse More Like This
okay when you are and
that you are when you're
not. Run barefoot in
the snow. Stand out
in the rain for an hour
and think about anything
and everything you can.
Fall in love with
riddles and things that
aren't real and the
way some stars
shine. Cry when
you realize that life is
just one big sham and write
one hundred cliché poems
about it, and then write one
that you actually mean.
Use profanity. Be the
one fucking introvert
in a room full of
extroverts and scream
shit just for the fun of
it. Swallow every goddamn
metaphor you ever dreamed
of and write them down
with your own blood.
Eulogize your own
misery. Put a crown on
it and let it rule your
heart for six years before
you throw a coup d'etat
but just end up with
your head in a basket.
Ask yourself why
you feel so
empty and when
you forgot how to
laugh and where you
last left your smile and
who you even really are
anymore. Mean every word.
Don't cry at funerals. Cry
yourself to sleep every
other night for
Stenciled Smiles on Paper HeartsI don't like to feel this wayStenciled Smiles on Paper Hearts in Free Verse More Like This
There must be something I can say
Cause I hate just watching you
When I know the pain you're going through
You're not alone; I've been where you are
Contemplating where I'll place my next scar
Hiding razor kisses underneath long sleeves
It doesn't make it better; nothing is achieved
All you'll earn are the scars you've got and
The lesson learned is the lesson forgotten
You feel like no one's there, no one cares what you do
Let me put it to you straight: That is never true
I was shunned, pushed away many times before
Then I realized it was I who had closed the door
I took a chance and opened up to the people around me
Told them of my secrets, now their love surrounds me
You're not alone; I've been where you are
And I know that life sometimes seems so hard…
But believe me, from one person to another
To make a book better, you never destroy the cover…
You are worth it...
Wonder.Do you fear your own death?Wonder. in Free Verse More Like This
Is it hard to conceive?
Draw in your last breath, then-
Your last breath will leave.
Isn't it strange to think,
That there's a timer above your head?
A countdown you can't see,
That finishes when you're dead.
Don't you ever wonder,
What it'll be like when you're gone?
I bet the world will keep on spinning.
There will be another dawn.
But the harsh reality behind it-
We're all going to die.
There's no reason to try to fight it
Not even to question why.
It makes me wish that I could have a little more to give,
Because I'm not afraid of how I'll die...
I'm afraid of how I'll
Awareness.She writes such lovely poemsAwareness. in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But nobody really cares
She hides them all the time
To avoid the judging stares
She wrote one yesterday
About a boy who said he loved her
But to her own dismay
She caught him with another
She wrote one about school
And the words painted on her locker
“No one likes you, stupid bitch.
You’re lucky I’m at soccer.”
She wrote about her parents
And how she wished they were together
But she knows that won’t ever happen
And forgetting’s probably better
Yes, she writes such lovely poems
But there’s so much more to this
See, her pencil is a razor
And the paper is her wrist.
Do Not OpenA field of wilted flowers growing darker by the hourDo Not Open in Free Verse More Like This
Clouds of grey have come to play
Pouring acid like it’s rain
It burns right through my skin to bone
And shows me what I’ve always known
Atop a hill a lonely tree wrapped in a fog of misery
A tire swing, abandoned toys, not even a single noise
With a crying breeze and dying leaves; I can’t feel
Can hardly breathe
Yet here I am; this is me
This is who I try to hide
I should come with a warning sign
Do Not Open: Dead Inside.
What I Can't EraseLike the gnarled roots of an old decaying treeWhat I Can't Erase in Free Verse More Like This
I’m twisted and confused, tired of being me
On the surface I am strong, abrasively calm, and ready
But underneath it all I’m weak, wrong, and unsteady
I shudder at the wind; tell tale of death’s bringer
I feel the chill upon my spine; forever it seems to linger
Now is not the time for cleansing wounds of past battles
Worse is lurking just beyond the howling darkness of the shadows
There isn't much that I can do against an army borne of fear
Every nightmare, all my demons, they’re all assembled here
They’re everything that I’m ashamed to say is part of me
The ugly truth behind my eyes no one should ever see
And if I held my ground would it be too much to face?
Or should I just ignore what I know I can’t erase?
Poets And Artists.I am self-destructive.Poets And Artists. in Free Verse More Like This
You are the affected.
I’m a thought that’s still in motion.
You’re an idea perfected.
I’m a sacrifice without you.
But with your life, I’m injected.
I’m a thousand puzzle pieces.
You’re the way to connect it.
What I Meant.*Accidentally bumps into you*What I Meant. in Free Verse More Like This
-What I said-
Oh, I’m so sorry..!
-What I meant-
I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand
Cause even though I do the very best that I can
I can’t face this world alone
There’s too much I don’t understand
*Accidentally holds your hand*
-What I said-
Is everything alright?
-What I meant-
What should I do if I can’t tell between
The reality of life or if it’s just a dream?
I can tell the world is real enough
It’s just not as pretty as it seems
*Accidentally hugs you*
-What I said-
Are you okay?
-What I meant-
I guess I never wanted to believe
That something I helped create
That I thought was more than beautiful
Could be so capable of hate
*Accidentally kisses you*
-What I meant to say instead-
So prove me wrong
And say it’s not too late
Or too bad, or no good and that
There’s still room for one more clean slate
Because another se
Never Bow Down. (Failure In Denial)Your poisoned words are your weapon of choice,Never Bow Down. (Failure In Denial) in Free Verse More Like This
Paralyzing me with just the sound of your voice.
Whispering your lies and getting under my skin,
But I can see right through you 'cause you're so paper thin!
Are you really so heartless?
Behind your lies is there any truth?
Can you tell I don't want this!?
I will never bow down to you!
You say across my skin is where my short comings compile,
And that my scars remind you I'm a failure in denial!
No matter what you've always had the upper hand,
Holding me under for reasons none understand!
Are you really so heartless?
Behind your lies is there any truth?
Can you tell I don't want this!?
And that I'll never
Love Me.She falls asleep most every nightLove Me. in Free Verse More Like This
To the sound of her parents pointless fight
And clinging tightly to her tear soaked pillow
She goes to school most every day
Wishing she could run away
From all those who torture her
For not being ‘cool’
Her mother, she just plain ignores her
Her father’s never even there
Who would notice if she were gone?
Who would even care?
She just wants to make it quick
To take this razor as her friend
And feel its tender loving kiss
Pressed against her paper skin
She just wants to make it stop
The feeling lonely, sad and hated
She holds the blade up to eye level
I don’t know how long she waited
She presses hard against her skin
And lines of ink bleed from the pen
The blade, it rests there on her knee
On her arm she wrote
Monsters and DemonsI think I'm pretty,Monsters and Demons in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Don’t even think that.
I think I'm thin,
But you’re actually fat.
I think my friends
No they don’t, they loathe you.
If fact, no one likes you!
Why are you so mean
I AM YOU!
I am the voice,
Inside your head,
That makes you scream.
I am the monster,
That crawls into your heart,
And gnaws on it,
Until you bleed.
Until you cut.
Until you swallow
The internals of your poisons,
Tiny pill by tiny pill.
Until you fall asleep,
But never wake up.
Then I am finally silent.
But yet you’ve ignore me.
Sometimes you have.
Some days you go on,
Like I am never the bit of fragment
Of the sick twisted imaginat
Actualitywhen I was young, I wantedActuality in Free Verse More Like This
to be a punk rocker
metal holes lining my body like
trophies of war, hair teased
and bleached and styled for hours
on end until it looked effortless,
inked up with words and symbols
I swore were profound with
a cigarette hanging lazily
from my fingers, lonely
for a reason
(and he told me, sweetie,
you are like a fucking eclipse,
the bloody dawn
God plagued us with
I always wondered
if mistakes understood
the reason they
came to be in this world
I guess not).
Hunger PainsIt begins with a bang.Hunger Pains in Free Verse More Like This
I forget to eat for a few months and
I drown in cheap ideas with pretty names,
the ones they fill books and barren wrists
and stormy heads with, and soon,
moonlight shines from inside
my ribs and I am a lighthouse.
Thank you for the things you gave me,
intrinsically, a knowledge of
how to properly wear
myself. Thank you
for not fixing me.
I used to write about the color
of your voice, always blue-- the sky
before I fell asleep and the morning
dragging me back; I wonder
that you could’ve loved me better
if you explained who the
Something was that shared your bed
at night, or why insincere words
were your favorite.
My poems still cling to my skin
even when I sleep. even when
I wake, an anchor. even when
I boil myself alive and unfold
like a pallid lily inside your
and after enough time,
I forget to say goodbye.
I pick the scabs on my hips,
kiss the sorry out of your smile,
and breathe like this air
isn’t already a million years old.
In Piecesrum-lust lips make gentle friends,In Pieces in Free Verse More Like This
words slurred in hands blurred,
burning in between the lines to find
drunken concoction of wilted laughs
and heavy sighs, scented sultry
you are that
rasping in my throat when my voice
deteriorates and I am left breathless
and hopeless and raw, my
muscles ache in memory of the
motions to forget-
we do not let go.
and cold beds call, stability,
metal frames and sunken heads –
rest now, rest with
a prayer on your lips you don't
care to share, a dream in
your mind you'll never get back;
rest and the earth will lend you peace
you will stop. the rivers will clean
your bones; the sand will smooth
your tongue; you will stop, brain blank,
as smooth ivory promises persist.
(interpretations mean less than nothing)
you will stop and rest,
why we pity angelsto him;why we pity angels in Free Verse More Like This
you are afraid of phonecalls. you
are afraid of your own voice, and
opening your ribcage to let
your heart come live on your sleeve.
you are afraid of living without caffeine
or alcohol, whatever the day calls for;
you are afraid of being real
without laughing afterwards, becoming
everything you worked so hard to get
away from, acknowledging all
that you still are. know this:
I am afraid of loud noises.
I am afraid of honesty and drowning,
people I don’t know and words
I won’t say. I am afraid
of growing old and living alone and
you not accepting me. I am afraid
of myself. In that, we are the same.
I have the compulsion to grab you
and cup you to me like you are some
half-alive bird, like that sound
as the lazy sun paints you a portrait is
your hummingbird heart and not my own
shallow breaths. in the beginning,
you were my peace of mind. you traced
the contours of my being with a scalpel
and held me up, a shadow puppet,
as the darkest, blackest figures I gav
Escaping Narcissusii.Escaping Narcissus in Free Verse More Like This
there are no explanations, none worthy
of your contortionist spine and
sky-hungry hands, no sorrow;
this is the happy song for the happy people:
raise your paper heart to the heavens
[I wish god would take pity on me
and flood the abomination right out of my
skin, drown the impure, start new
with a dove that doesn’t know
in my head,
I’ve already left you a thousand times over.
sometimes, I wander through the streets and
idolize the living like a curious phantom
with a nonexistent pulse; sometimes, I run
desperate to the woods that seem
to breathe and mourn, where the trees
resemble bodies of people weaker than me,
and sometimes, I fly away because it turns out
the needles nestling beneath my skin
were feathers, waiting to cry out, and
I watch as your shadow dissolves
into the unsympathetic
but every time,
I come back, crawl into our weary bedsheets,
and number off your breaths until I fall
what I forgot to sayto the girl who lives like a hurricane:what I forgot to say in Free Verse More Like This
don’t expect to tell me about
your addiction to self-harm and
Nyquil and have me smile;
although, as I shiver from lakewater
and things less tangible, I seem to
acquire a talent for glossing over the list
of things I need to tell you--
is an asshole. California does not
begin and end in a tiny town where
people operate like clockwork around
the same happy working song. I am not
a fountain of wisdom, and, to be honest,
I can barely understand you over the
thunderstorms in my own brain.
you are beautiful and you are
to the girl I left back in time:
purpose is not a given. I am
the same teenage angst who used
to wear too much eyeliner and
complain about my future
as I’d foretold it-- loveless and whiny,
like me. I am her plus a few more
self destructions and minus
a lot more days to continue striving
alongside you for simple goals and
simple friends and simple memories
I won’t remember.
to the girl who see
nakedness and heavy lungsand now, I’m defined by thenakedness and heavy lungs in Free Verse More Like This
confines of my body, the faults
I carry like misdemeanors against
the ones who translate me in
lines and curves and scars that read
look, but don’t touch. now, I’m
busy catching up in revolutions
around the sun and laps within
the indignity of my own mind;
swallowing travesties and memories alike—
the sun in your voice, brightening
me inside as I wake up and breathe
like an eclipsing star, my bones clanking
together like wind-chimes, my legs
giving out like ghost people
who’ve given up. this is beautiful, this
stripping of layers upon layers
of reality and pretending
I’m not ashamed to stand naked and
quivering before those who judge me
in impersonal numbers and figures
as though I were irrelevant, that I’m not
holding my breath in hopes I will
float away like a balloon, beyond
human comprehension, light and fading
like the handwritten notes and promises
scrawled across every inch of me,
just so I could be forgotten
things I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleepithings I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleep in Free Verse More Like This
I’m spending most of my time
not crying, and I’m sorry,
but I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone
as much as aspirin, or lullabies,
or the cheap wine sold for two dollars a bottle,
or overly-apologetic letters bending over backwards
to make a point of themselves, or the pink petals
blooming on my wrists like flesh and blood miracles,
or the songs named after women
things may not change,
but you will have to.
I am most alone
surrounded by people
and the buzzing in my head of words
that should have lost their meaning
back when I discovered
they never meant anything
Dedications are only relevant
to people who appreciate shitty poetry,
or you. Insanity is writing the same thing
over and over and expecting it not
to sound clichéd.
and as much as anyone will swear otherwise,
I am a statistic. A number, an example,
a case study in the manipulation of
narcissism and moving on
the making of a clichewe are the ones they writethe making of a cliche in Free Verse More Like This
pseudo-teenage erotic thrillers for,
about adventure and love and
determination we will never
know. this is
our summer romance on the rocks,
dry and lonely. your ribcage is
an empty beach on a stony morning
[vacant, gritty]; a hideaway for
hopeless dreamers like me.
you moved here a few years back
to get away from your shadow,
but the sun never sets and
I’m beginning to think
maybe this is just another coffeehouse story,
and we are the monotone plot-movers
they never gave a name.
wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,wallflower clippings in Free Verse More Like This
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.
she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"
in that moment,
we forget to exist.