WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasmines
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heartNecromancy in Free Verse More Like This
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
dug your bloodstained claws into your
and tore out that infestation you called a
"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
I could only watch as you sunk back down into
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'
.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven.. in Emotional More Like This
A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.
Where has all my writing gone?
It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, nothing happens. And then, just as quickly as my urge to write appears, it is gone in a flash—and all I can do is slump forward and hope that maybe next week I'll get something productive done.
My fingers halt in their endless assault of the keyboard, and my eyes slide up to scan the nonsense I've created on the bright screen. It's n
AbsenceShe used to lie awake all nightAbsence in Free Verse More Like This
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.
Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.
(reality always finds you)
Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;
"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."
GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;Glacial in Free Verse More Like This
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.
Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.
"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."
And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.
Into the PlungeBuild me aInto the Plunge in Free Verse More Like This
sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.
AimlessSpring forgot how to begin anew,Aimless in Free Verse More Like This
so Winter stole her amnesic heart and tossed it to the wolves.
"Devour me," the stars seemed to beg;
so Gravity plunged them into the ocean's nebulous depths.
These lips no longer offer hymns up to fallen gods—
so Fate sacrificed herself for the chance to be reborn.
lost.Wandering,lost. in Free Verse More Like This
waiting for your voice to
reach out for mine.
Fingertips of satin,
caressing the confines of my
whispering a thousand constellations to my waning sanity.
Promises upon promises,
mosaic labyrinths etched into mutilated
Trembling lips — July's blasphemous sun
lingering above December's intangible moon,
and these looking-glass limbs scream for your
tongue to shatter me into one million
Rose eyelashes; iron thorns and liquid petals
flutter open to the dull luster of our
and in the end, your nebula fades away
in the disintegrating morning, just like my [heart] broken
Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,Storybook Ending in Free Verse More Like This
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
[even broken wings
wish for happily ever afters]
[once upon a time
there was a girl who became her own hero.]
HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,Hellfire in Free Verse More Like This
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."
She hides behind an ivory mask,
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.
Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.
For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a throne sewn from the blistering skin of her enemies and
wearing a crown of brambles and tears and seeds born of pandemonium—
Her soul's true colors will shine at last: her mind and body nothing but
kindle for the overdue vengeance of her ravenous
-My mind- in Free Verse More Like This
s h u t u p.
Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
drip off this
Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.
So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.
I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.
Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.
This shattered heart
only wants to make it
and become one again.
"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But why won't this stop?"
"Why can't you make it stop?"
"...it's not my fault."
Say what you want to say. Honest brutality.
"H E L P M E"
It's time for me to
s h u t u p.
on unlearning how to diethe space between intention andon unlearning how to die in Free Verse More Like This
inaction has been redefined. they say
the first step to sadness is
to be happy. the second step
is learning loss. they tell us
depression is an abundance of emotions
but everyone here is a balloon
deflated with time, a sun
dimming as years eat away years
and everything changes but
nothing's really different at all.
we drowned before we even saw
the sea, dreaming of that cemetery
a million miles deep; and still,
I cry for the people worth forgetting:
the girl who couldn't take enough
sleeping pills to live her dreams,
the boy so doped out on an inability
to live that he told us about his trips
to Jupiter and back, and
expected us to believe him. the girl
with a ghost smile named after the prayer
she was born to forget, the boy
who slept like an angel and cried like
a fallen, and me, me
choking on gravity and the ever-growing
weight of my own fucking inadequacy
tied tightly around my neck like a noose
not quite designed properly, right,
because I survived.
forgetting how to sleeptake two.forgetting how to sleep in Free Verse More Like This
a week past the end of the world,
and there’s something therapeutic
about not caring. I must’ve
really messed up in another life. I
wake up shaking and forget to sleep
shaking and hold your hand, shaking,
remembering the moment I became
poison. I feel crazier than ever; cementhead’s
good and gone with his plastic wrists
and missing soul. the boy who entertains
his unfriendliest nightmares couldn’t
muster up enough innocence
to make it right. (today, he writes
a letter; dear Sophia, he tells me
it doesn’t get better. I’m
locked up for a crime I
didn’t commit. you did it,
Sophia. you built me
wrong.) but you know me,
I fell in love with a problem I
couldn’t fix, a boy blinded
who’s never seen the light.
He was a stormy violet but I
am cyan graying with age--
I spent most of my life dying,
and the rest of it wishing I
was someone else. they tell us
only god will see your ugly;
and the girl who swallowed
casual blasphemyfor the past four yearscasual blasphemy in Free Verse More Like This
I’ve been in love with a boy
who’s too busy loving life to notice
I exist. I don’t think he’s ever seen me
past his tunnel vision living--
I’m in love with a boy who
wears black gauges and swears
he’s a deist who’s fed up with
the backwards-fucked system
that governs our lives; he talks to me
about the symbolic importance
of hunger and need and rebellion
and isolationism and death as
Orwell and Golding must have written it,
and, god, I just want to crack open
my ribs so he can see the literary
starvation destroying me, the not-quite
metaphoric devastation of my liver and
paper cuts scarring my heart. I want
him to talk to me about the reasons
we ought to avoid college
and capitalism and commitment and explain
to me what this all really means.
[I want to be so unflinchingly honest
with you that it will be as natural
and sinful as all the others
before, just without the glare
of bare skin and self-hate. I want to tell you
something lacking this way comesshe smells of smoke, tastessomething lacking this way comes in Free Verse More Like This
of cheap dreams and cheaper makeup,
sounds like someone who's used
to giving; her eyes are two
glossy sunsets out of a few
trillion that have set before--
when she shuts them, no one
everything I'm becomingtwo weeks until the end of the world,everything I'm becoming in Free Verse More Like This
and i’m busy stockpiling all my regrets,
writing letters to flaws i don’t care
to fix, and trying to learn to draw
infinity. it’s time for two truths and a lie:
1. i was drunk for an hour on
good vibes and loneliness and
that quote “from the moment we
are born we begin to die”
2. and god, Bianca, you still show up
in my dreams; glaze-eyed and
more vocal than you ever were
when you were half-alive
1. (how close i came to arctic happiness
when you froze in my mind,
snowflake breath lingering like
the soundtrack of my breakdown)
now, she tells me she is sick
of the clothes stretched tight like
a second skin, and the gaping silences
between her ribs, and the singsong
unimportance glazing over her
hollywood-hangover eyes. she blossoms
like an earthquake, finally
growing into the goosebumps
and hollow bones her father
gave her-- i want to cure the world,
use a freeze ray to halt time
and kiss every empty wound;
motionlessthere aren't words in the English languagemotionless in Free Verse More Like This
to properly describe this loss. blackness.
blink out. fade out. go out. not
with a bang, but a whimper, your
thoughts won't unknot
from my own, i hear you in my dreams;
sleeping is my obituary for everyone
my antithesis, i'm so fucking terrified
you were right and that some part of me
needed you for a genuine reason.
emotion is not bottomless and you
are not forever. i miss you. i miss
how easily you made me cry. stale
mornings and birds that fly the wrong
direction are nothing compared to the way
you relit the world, birthing new stars
every time you touched something
you pretended to understand.
i never believed in your god, but i hope
you'll forward the prayers i sent
my earthly limitation, i'm sorry
you hurt so bad but i'm glad
it's directed at me. you should never
have to hold all that on your
own. emptiness cannot be ignored
or displaced; i wish i was better
at listening. tomorrow
honesty isn't a weaknessI have a headache and not enough timehonesty isn't a weakness in Free Verse More Like This
to explain the irony of how I want to be
every pretentious poet making art out of
themselves, cutting open their side and writing
in blood and pixie dust; or how difficult
it is to make a good allegory out of carsickness
and household complacency. this
is every secret I ever hid. when I was 9
someone dissected the world in front of me,
showed me it was a living, wanting thing
and that I was just a lonely cell, functioning
through my dysfunction; when I was 11
the boy I liked told me he’d be interested
if I were prettier and I learned starvation
was more a state of mind than a presence
of being. when I was 13 I researched the lethality
of cleaning products, because god, I felt so dirty,
and nothing can clean you more than a couple cupfuls
of bleach. when I was 15 I was old and decrepit
and mostly dead, returning from war with flowers
for graves that weren’t filled and a heart of
tragedy, vulnerable and draped in every shade
of mourning f
checklist of a masochistiiichecklist of a masochist in Free Verse More Like This
you were an untouched sunset,
never before seen and familiar
at the same time; delicately shedding
shades of pink the same color
of your starving voice
and I was most beautiful
with my clothes off, too much skin
intersected by too many lines (never
the near parallel you longed for)
a hazy blur that made the nights
our own watercolor cliche
you were that cheap love song
that never sounded authentic,
lyrics stitched through your
paper skin; chords resonating
from your every wanting sigh
and you were surprised how much
you needed me, from the concrete solidity
of my ribs to the metaphoric indecency
of my thoughts, naked and trembling
for your callused ears (or maybe
it was just me, justifying the way
you skinned my anxious layers
with your ravenous hands,
like underfed beasts)
you were the child crying
at shadows pretending to be monsters,
running from the prospect of
god and death and gravity;
& you were the letter I never sent
"I'm done apologizing for
the person I wasn't befor
Growing Upit seems that by now I’ve been diagnosedGrowing Up in Free Verse More Like This
with a mild case of weightlessness, mindless
drifting past empty homes and the emptier people
that purchased them. I remember conversations
with you about existentialism
and the almost intricate fabric of my mind and
everything in between, and you-- the way you
paused before making a point as
the words defined themselves in your head:
I remember the day I told you I was God.
Creator of all things unimportant, trapped
in the body of a girl with nothing left to give, you
it must be a beautiful place
inside your head, with a world
that revolves around hope and expectations
the way it was supposed to; all
storybook-perfect like the
wars promise we’ll one day
[I’d like to think that every great leader
once cried themselves to sleep wondering
if they’d ever mean anything and
did things to stand out like smoking
or drinking or pretending to be someone
they’re not and every morning they’d tilt
a letter for someone who hates thinkingin the beginning i wrote poemsa letter for someone who hates thinking in Free Verse More Like This
about death and darkness and
the complex metaphysical arithmetic in which
that would equate to the love i carried for you,
beneath the headaches brewing like bruises
between my eyes, my ocean eyes;
even after convincing me the planets
were dead gods, powerful skeletons with
internal expiration dates and the stars
were their lingering parables, their stories
blinking out years before we were born, i knew
you were a nuclear angel, atom bomb
savior sent to save me from
there is no more mystery
in the world. i sent you
five letters to the PO box you told me
about in florida, the first
was a catalogue of every
angsty song lyric or campy postcard
or description of a flower
crooked in just the right way
that reminded me of you,
the second was a retelling
of every dream i woke from
forgetting who i was, the third
was an apology-- i'm sorry
for who i'm not and who you
need and that your dad always
reeked of bacardi, i'm sorry
for my bukowski-wannabe complex a
she reminds me of myselfI'm sorry, Alice, the looking glass lies.she reminds me of myself in Free Verse More Like This
Flowers don't sing
and hares don't keep time.
Your world of wonder
is all make believe -
Why else would your reflection
giggle and wink?
You aren't a child any longer, my dear.
Have a matchstick for your dreams
and a hammer for that mirror.
Our hands may be calloused
as we coddle our pasts
but delusions are enemies
and wistful muses pass.
I will wait for you, darling,
I will write for you, lass.
I will capture life's beauty
and contain it in glass.
Though, the singing that lingers
is the voice of my own.
The fragrant flowers are dying
even while their seed is sown.
The GameI melt at their words.The Game in Free Verse More Like This
I call to their bestial senses.
I am the forbidden prey;
Even still, they chase and I give way.
In my prime, I prowl;
Mistress of the game,
I have yet to be tamed.
Locked in my cage, gnawing at the steel, I release a lonesome cry.
Gallantly, heroically they advance, beckoned by my shrill report.
Yet, all I want is to be free.
And, with zebra skin behind these bars they'd love to keep me.
I will break f r e e when you least expect me.
Ease a bit closer, my daring, my darling.
Nigh is your pet, nay, your knave.
And, with key in hand, here I shall keep you;
Saving pretty things for rainy days.
ocean lungsyou weigh something like gravityocean lungs in Free Verse More Like This
in my tired expanse. you are
(my once splendid mountain)
my love is the ocean
that has worn you down.
with my monstrous tongue,
i pulled you in.
as you fall,
sweeping peacefully into the depths
and filling each crevice,
i am learning to inhale shores.
some would say i'm suffocating
and bring me buckets of air (only to have it
escape my slippery grip).
no, the tides need something heavy
to make of her
snowglobe songIt grew in lightless dissonance. The perfect balance of warmth and wetness which would deform any suckling and birth putrescence. Here, in the dank depths of hope deferred, it grew.snowglobe song in Short Stories More Like This
They formed it with their broken voices and it strained to hear every lost syllable. Between the fragmented sounds, a constant; a muffled whisper of a melody. It sank as though it were made to exist beneath those muddy refrains.
Little mocking bird, born without a song of its own. It stapled grounding reasons to each feather and chirped a scratched-out song to dandelions in the place of clouds. Rough notes swept across the seeds. A coarse melody was reborn in those colorless tufts, which suffocated every living thing on the small bird's horizon. The sullen snowglobe burned brightly as creatures tried to breathe under the ungodly weight of a once insignificant song.
i'm falling away with youI am the wayward child.i'm falling away with you in Free Verse More Like This
Tacking on wings months too late; our legs didn't break -
Fate gave me a flower; snowflakes and granite
by any other name.
I am home.
Your eyes of forests, branching away.
Defeathered, dust settling;
if you don't see it, you can never walk away.
cagedother lovers sawcaged in Free Verse More Like This
that i was a danger to myself
(i've always thought of it
as more of a challenge to trust).
they took their prison arms
to hold me,
to keep me from myself
(to keep me from hurting them).
some pushed my suicidal heart
from its shelf
thinking it was what i truly wanted
(to be free).
they watched, helpless,
unknowing of my thoughts,
as i stood on the ledge
with my calloused toes dancing over
and wishing on every feather
the breeze brushed
from my crooked wings.
but they had been clipped.
and how could i say,
"they should have known" -
who falls in love with a bird?
you fashioned a cage out of your chest
and set your heart aside
(to make room for me,
your wounded bird).
you forged a single key
and placed it carefully beside me
(afraid i'd spook easy
with those jerky eyes
rapt with you).
i hear your heart
beat lullabies from the closet
(and i only shut my door
to dance in private
because birds are hideous dancers)
and you always ask why
i'm so afraid to sing atop
bridgesrivers rush beneath my ledge of hope.bridges in Free Verse More Like This
they've caged me in,
but my heart plunges towards its lullaby anyway;
and it's selfish.
but i am rarely selfish -
except for moments like these
when i let my mind wander and convince my heart it's ok to want.
it's ok to be free.
we're only window shopping for a better tomorrow
because we're tired of yesterdays
and it's ok to want something better
(even if we've no clue what it'll look like when we find it
and we're frightened we'll miss it).
we're afraid it'll drift by as we
play with our imaginary fires,
with our ideas of better days;
of better lovers
who are strong enough to watch
as our feathered soul perches
atop the suicide railing
of every bridge we've ever crossed.
they know that we can fly
because they watched as our feathers filled in.
they held back our talons with their fleshy love
as we ripped at their pulp and they begged us to stay,
to eat. we told ourself
that we are strong for
summer homei've rearranged the rooms of my chestsummer home in Free Verse More Like This
to make room for you.
i won't say it didn't hurt
to make myself your Adam;
until you found a comfortable perch.
there, beneath my unguarded breast,
you construct your nest of
every lovely thing you've come to love
(while the rest of me flaps wildly
like moth wings against the cold walls
of my exposed heart).
i should've known you'd leave
when winter froze me.
don't apologize [for the ache].
you kept the beautiful bits of me
(while they died).
Keepsakes and AnathemaI boxed up the remnantsKeepsakes and Anathema in Free Verse More Like This
That remain in my heart
And waited for you to commandeer them.
But six days you lingered instead,
A wind-whipped shadow
On the fringe of our burning garden;
Tiptoeing over fresh wet-stones
In hopes of breaking my hope-brittle spine.
Your Genesis of betrayal;
Adam’s obsessions filtered through
And somehow I now bear the mark.
There, but for the amusement of God, go I;
Branded and baked, as I shovel soot.
I'll whisper to each flake
Fallen upon eyelashes.
Today, coupled with regret,
Weighs muddily grey on my eyes.
I'll trudge forever through your vicious memory.
insomniac's song"sleep with me,"insomniac's song in Free Verse More Like This
i asked the moon,
"close your pockmarked eyes
"who will guide the oceans
to send their wayward travelers home,"
she cooed gently,
"who will whisper their names?"
i sighed softly,
"i'm not sure,
but i will whisper yours."
NaPoWriMo: Day 3Today,NaPoWriMo: Day 3 in Free Verse More Like This
I wanted to pluck my ribs
from out my chest &
hang them about my house
like wind chimes-
a taunt for hungry wolves.
I didn’t grab for sharp objects,
I just wrote about it.
I never knew
I wanted to be a writer
until I lost something.
I still don’t know what that is-
(my mind, maybe.)
they fill gaps
that had no stories
to keep them
from hollowing out
in the first place.
FrostI am devouring chaos,Frost in Free Verse More Like This
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.
When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?
Heart:a rebellionHeart: in Free Verse More Like This
in her chest.
she's got skin
unworthy to write
she tapes those
to her limbs
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.
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
NaPoWriMo Day: 1I’ve got 30 daysNaPoWriMo Day: 1 in Free Verse More Like This
to defy Icarus:
teach this rose thorn heart
how to fly.
[ All I want to be
is the space between
But, I’m here,
ripping holes in blank pages
while nursing nebulae knuckles
with white plastered walls.
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.
she knows her paper cuts by name.Rose bloodshe knows her paper cuts by name. in Free Verse More Like This
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;
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.
Shy moon,i've got love carved into honeysuckle wrists,Shy moon, in Free Verse More Like This
a murder of crows in my throat,
& a pack of wolves at my back.
i want to know truths behind these myth eyes, &
the distant galaxies under your fingertips.
but, love me. love me, Love.
show me what's beyond Grimm fairy tales
spare me your ribs;
this skyscraper heart
needs a place to go.
.he said there are a lot of things in life. in Personal More Like This
that don't make sense,
i said i know,
like that time i laughed so hard at the wake
i had to stay out in the garden making small talk with the smokers
for the rest of it,
like the time i shut myself in the garage and went to sleep
in the backseat of your car,
and how i'm not at all religious but i sat in church that day with
my hands clasped and
how i kept the windows shut that sunday so what i prayed for
couldn't get in,
like the time i watched her throw your stuff out on the driveway,
and when she managed to smash those plates even with
her broken wrist, how most hearts start to sink when tempers rise,
and the time i wanted to cradle that dead pigeon i saw at the
train station, and you told me to answer the phone and i wouldn't
because i knew it was you,
and when the night comes calling i always let him in,
i'm never quite sure who he is, but he says
he's paid for it so now i better fucking
he says haven't you learnt by now
.a mother says to her son. in Personal More Like This
can you feel the world lodged
in your rib? do not tell
me you can't, it's right there
and let's not tell god
anything about this, let's give
him the silent treatment like
he's giving to us,
sometimes i wake up wanting
to shred myself into ribbons
tie me up in a bow and send myself
to your doorstep with no
return address and let you deal with it,
you're not listening and you're not
understanding, you're too busy
trying to read all the text, but
i can go days without speaking
one word, got a habit of holding my
breath diving into my own mind
for hours, blue bottomless pool
river veins with the bones of a dream
drifting through, some stuck on the
banks all dried up and thirsty, this
shark tooth reminds me of you so i
press it in hard, still not one single
drop, a baby raccoon floats by with
no life but wide eyes, i know you'll
pray the horned god sends him
straight to the sea, drown him out
with that voice that says maybe
next year when you search for
.and god-. in Personal More Like This
i saw the moon
leaking into the sea,
a great big silvery slick
on the waves
and as i held my hands up
to the hole in her side,
she smiled and soaked
(gentle, gentle, she doesn't have long)
.i hear those sailors. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
lost at sea, those white winged souls
floating in the blue
.i like to feed things in. in Personal More Like This
through my mind and then pull them
right out of my chest when they're
put it on paper and call it
a poem, feed it
back into the brain
and repeat, but
anxiety says just
let this stuff go -
cough up those words
that you've got in your
chest and dust off the
shelf in your lungs, feel
them one last time if you want
but please, send them away in
their poems, and quick
i'm just not
done with them
i can rip
from the back
of my hand
and my neck,
from this one
(chew it up, spit it out)
.lies can slip. in Personal More Like This
through your teeth
gets caught in
(i wish it was a lie, that i'm your flesh and blood and i wish it was the truth, that i hadn't been drinking)
.i don't believe. in Personal More Like This
that if you can dream it
you can do it,
cos i once dreamt that
i killed atlas,
i tore him limb from limb and then
i stabbed the globe he held,
and sometimes i get sad
about the children in the world
who will choke on all the words
that they'll never learn to speak,
and there's a baby somewhere gargling
the meaning of his life,
and he's a little bit upset that you
keep wiping it
(i have no words for you)
.you still got. in Personal More Like This
a heart that beats in halves?
a mouth like a bear trap,
don't kiss me -
that anchor tattoo
on your foot, it still holding you
down to the earth?
that skull on your chest,
you still dead in there?
i told you i wouldn't
but i kept my eyes fixed
on the exit,
and if i'm being honest
i spoke in the tongue of my own,
i was out of that door like a shot
what a buzz -
a hive full of angry words,
queen of the nest
full of hate but the honey is
sweet when you smoke them
all out of the way,
get them drunk get them
leaving my mouth
(hope it stings)
.i often ask myself questions. in Personal More Like This
and answer them too,
maybe tell your
that i'm the wolf in the woods, i just
saw red and couldn't help it, what
can i say i've got a
temper, i couldn't wait
to grip her neck inside
my jaws n shake it, snap
it clean, cracked like a twig,
you see she was a bitch she was a
whore, she had it
coming, with her
sweet laugh and her lips, her
swaying hips inside, she carried
a rifle in her cloak, she wanted
my pelt for the angry winter,
and her old gran? i sucked
the meat from
her lame ribs like she'd have done
the same to mine, i licked my
chops and got in
had good sweet dreams until
that axe man, that old drunk,
who thought he had some bigger balls
came stumbling in through her front
they found his guts
on the hall floor,
and i can still
smell it a
but what i'm saying
kids, the moral is,
there's nothing little bout the amount
of red you're gonna see in
life, it's all about whether or not
you've got the stones
to fucking stomach it
BelovedBeloved:Beloved in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
With a bright radiant smile
If only for me...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
UndyingUndying:Undying in Free Verse More Like This
How many days do you spend now, putting me down?
The coffin call for a dead man waiting around
"He's just an underground laughing stock, never to rise"
But on the seventh day I'm coming back; these are my ties!
The kind of promise that you made with the devil inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
Alone but AliveAlone but Alive:Alone but Alive in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Oh here I am standing,
A lost soul is landing.
The coldest December,
Can you still remember?
Do you even hear me?
There's no one around me!
Oh shadow that I see,
The void right behind me.
Yet still I am breathing;
Yet still I am feeling.
The coldest sensation,
Oh worthless creation!
Are you still crying?
Oh why are you lying - abandoned and cold
Cold like what was left of soul,
Made of all the life you stole.
Walk divine but made of sin,
Worm of hatred squrim within.
Sin of lust and sin of pride,
Lash the tongue that last has lied.
Yours was silver with a promise,
Kiss of death and then you vomit.
Burning bile of ugly treason,
No one else can know the reason.
Left a soul behind to burn;
You are the reason I have turned...
On this cold and endless night...
When I'm finally pierced by the light...
And I awaken from this hell...
ALONE - BUT ALIVE!
Alive and again oh do I dare?
To give this heart and to lay it bare.
When heaven cast its fate
I've Changed (Yeah right)I've Changed (Yeah right):I've Changed (Yeah right) in Free Verse More Like This
You know, I tell myself everday,
That I'm going to change - that I'll be different.
'This isn't the same; I'm not the same,' that's what I tell myself...
As I sit in front of the computer, praying time doesn't move.
Coward, you're weak and you'll always be weak! You bloody disgrace...
I pick up some new magazine, get inspired,
'I want to be like that guy,' is what I think to myself.
I give it a try for two or three days - I quit.
Same old shit again...
Making up excuses? It's what you always do, you gutless wonder...
I try to reach out with my hands,
Seeking something, anything that I can find to help myself hold on...
But I don't find it - I just find myself,
Sinking back down into the same black swamp - I'm drowning.
Awww, what's the matter? You gonna cry, you gonna cry?
Yeah, I've hit rock bottom,
And you know what? It feels pretty damn good down here.
Nice, warm, comfortable, familiar.
No pressure, no problems - just like everb
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
You Have No Right To LiveYou Have No Right To Live:You Have No Right To Live in Free Verse More Like This
Hey, what are you doing?
That's mine, now give it back.
You're stupid, you should just go die!
Okay, I'm sorry...
What, you failed again?
Just how much money do you think we're spending on this,
Do you think it just falls from the sky?
I can't believe you; and don't give me that look!
You better straighten up now you hear me
And if you keep looking like a dead fish,
I'm going to make you wish you were one.
Hey, being around you is driving me nuts,
You never want to do anything, you don't even care,
Why bother even breathing if you're going to act like you're dead!
A lousy person like you should just go die!
okay, fine! I will...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th November 2012
Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:Practice Poem - Poor Little Timmy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.
Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...
Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...
Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012
We Poets Are Frustrated...We Poets Are Frustrated...We Poets Are Frustrated... in Free Verse More Like This
I am sure that you have all experienced this feeling:
A masterpiece eclipsed by the baying of a brat!
A raucous rhyme, so emotionally raw;
Shadowed by a child's melancholia...
Alone in the darkness, you lick your lips and growl.
Your anger, so evidently understandable; yet you forget your own abilities!
In despair, my dearest sibling, you have forgotten — yourself
Why fear an obstacle so easily overcome?
Why shred your works with such heavy tears?
Have you forgotten that we are the original craftsman?
Our tongues birthed as our chisels and axe!
We need only take these simple themes
And corrupt them with all our twisted fears...
This hatred inside of you, this bubble of frustration and anxiety —
Let it swell like a pus-filled abscess of anger!
And with your words unleash this vicarious plague!
Take the unblemished works that have scorned you,
And inject them with the very darkness of your soul!
Let bleeding lips,
Letting Go of YouLetting Go of You:Letting Go of You in Free Verse More Like This
You abandoned me in the past
without so much as a proper goodbye
One day you simply chose to walk out the door
and you never did come back...
I was angry then, hurting badly
I wondered if I was in some way inadequate
I wondered if you left because I am so easy to despise
and eventually my sorrow turned to anger
I wanted to become great
to show you that you made the wrong choice
to take my strength and throw it in your face
just so you would regret it
But then I saw how happy you were...
In the time we've been apart
You've made a new life for yourself
You've found someone who loves and treasures you
and upon seeing that, my anger faded...
Your smile, that which I fell in love with
is more radiant now than the morning sun
a gentle blush upon your fair cheeks
takes my breath away, just as it did so long ago
Of course, I don't hold any hope for us to be friends
I don't think that it would be appropriate for me to come back
but perhaps one day, if
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:These Words Aren't Pretty in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
One dose of glitterOne dose of glitter can light up the worldOne dose of glitter in Free Verse More Like This
One little thought can bring back little girls
Fairies and dragons and strong, worthy knights
One dose of glitter can shine through the night
Hush, little girl, for the stars in the sky
Shining so sweetly like your stunning eyes
Don't let the nightmares define what you'll be
Notice the beauty within every dream
Hush, little girl, there is no need to fight…
One dose of glitter to light up the night.
Bipolar DisorderLook over your shoulder. They're watching you.Bipolar Disorder in Free Verse More Like This
Tighten your stomach muscles.
Bounce your leg up and down.
"Are you okay?"
Don't say anything.
Feel it, feel the thoughts melting from your mind.
"What are you doing?"
They're behind you.
Kill them before they kill you.
Please save me.
Crazy. You're crazy.
No one wants you.
Pull the trigger.
"Please tell me what's wrong."
You wouldn't understand.
"Who are you? I don't know you anymore."
I'm a nobody.
I am Bipolar Disorder.
... "I don't know."
AnorexiaMeet a girl named No One, with a heart of shattered stoneAnorexia in Free Verse More Like This
Staring at the other girl, the one that's not alone
Girl with skin that glistens, with the eyes of crystal seas
Grin of shining diamonds and a laugh like a disease
Flashes just a glance and soon, she's every trouble's cure
She has everything… and No One's off to be like her.
Eating turns into a crime, she'd rather be away
Thrusting fingers down her throat to make herself okay
Watching as her very bones are seen behind her flesh
There she drowns in tears, for she has not yet seen success.
Minutes turn to hours, and these hours turn to days
Every moment slipping, slowly fading into grey
Rapidly, her body turns to nothing but her bones
As she fights for beauty, as she battles for the throne.
Broken hearts must learn to beat, and this she came to know
Learning it the hard way when her heartbeat grew too slow
Yet, she somehow managed still to shine from what's within
Lying in her casket with her hidden, unseen sin.
Final thoughts ins
The Reason I Love YouThe reason I love you,The Reason I Love You in Free Verse More Like This
Now let me see....
Shall I compare you to a tree?
Your awesome and lovely
And with everyone you blend in naturally
Or, maybe that's not right....
How about the color white?
Because your spirits just as light
That shines into my deep dark life
And keeps me away from that horrid knife
Or maybe you're more than the sea
Calming and sweet to me
You roll on endlessly
Your love expands as far as the eye can see
Or maybe it's the sun
Faithful, to the one who your heart has won
Keeping me happy, through all the sadness
Tearing away my agonizing madness
Or, maybe you're just you, that's good too
Because none of them are as perfect, as you
Mind, oh MindSmiley face, smiley face, can't you ever see?Mind, oh Mind in Free Verse More Like This
So much to be sad about, so much that could be
Going wrong for everyone, going wrong for you.
Smiley face, smiley face, don't you feel it too?
Sad face, sad face, can't you ever tell?
So much could be going great, going oh so well
Sad face, sad face, can't you ever see?
Life is spend much better when your thinking thoughts of glee.
Mind, oh mind, why can't you agree?
Thinking everything at once is slowly killing me...
Words on the WallThe sun melted into the glamorous skyWords on the Wall in Free Verse More Like This
The moon stood there, hidden by sweet lullabies.
But mommy was crying, her day had been hard
The tears in her eyes twinkled just like the stars.
Her face wasn't happy like it should have been
And though she was saddened, she forcefully grinned.
I wanted to see Mommy smile through it all...
I painted a picture on her bedroom walls.
I told her to look, just to come in and see
But Mommy was angry... she wasn't happy.
She threw me down hard on the cold wooden floor
Then picked me up, slamming my head on the door.
She yelled and she screamed, then she hit me once more
She slapped me till I couldn't see anymore.
My heart then stopped beating, my laugh went unheard
Then Mommy got up without saying a word.
She looked at the walls splattered with my young blood
Then fell to the ground in her tears with a thud.
She looked at my face, then she looked all around
Then wrote on the walls with the first thing she found.
Then, after she finished, she wanted self h
I am a labelI slid the blade across my wristI am a label in Free Verse More Like This
Again and again.
Maybe I’m an emotional freak.
I cause fights and arguments
Maybe I’m a troublemaker.
I use make up to make myself seem
Maybe I’m girly.
I complain about things
Even when sometimes
Maybe I’m an attention seeker.
I fall under so many
So maybe I am a label.
I’m just me.
RIP Unborn BabyTiny little bodyRIP Unborn Baby in Free Verse More Like This
Quiet little heartbeats.
See this little pea? That's how big you are right now.
But Mommy doesn't know that yet.
Little fingers start to grow
out of tiny little hands.
See this little peanut? That's how big you are right now.
But Mommy doesn't know that yet.
Your tiny legs start to grow
out of your sweet little body.
See this little pencil tip? That's how big your footprints are right now.
But Mommy doesn't know that yet.
Weak little heartbeat.
Weak little baby.
See these smiles on our faces? That's how loved you are right now.
But you don't know that yet.
Gone little heartbeat.
Gone little baby.
See us walking into the doctor's office? That's how excited we are right now.
But you don't know that yet.
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
See these tears on our faces? That's how much we love you right now.
But you don't know that yet.
A baby that had Daddy'
AsylumWho are you?Asylum in Free Verse More Like This
Where are you?
What... are you?
The blinding white walls
Closing in on you
Who are you?
Certainly not that
happy little girl
jumping through fairy tales
as a sunset paints the silver sky.
Where are you?
Definitely not where
you'd want to be.
What are you?
Blood, scars, wounds.
All you see are shadows
In a room of white walls...
Well...Well, you're not anorexic. So you must be fat.Well... in Free Verse More Like This
A fat, ugly person.
Well, you fit in with the crowd. You must be a fake.
A fake wannabe.
Well, you're happy. What are you hiding?
You've got to be hiding something.
Well, you're sad. You must be emo.
An emo attention seeker.
Well, you're popular. So you must be a jerk.
Why would anyone like you in the first place?
Well, you're quiet. You must be a nobody.
Nobody at all.
Well, you're you.
What else could go wrong?
moondust.we live in a world where our lungs are black and outlined with angry streaks of red. we plant diseases and destruction in the holes of our stomachs and watch them grow they shoot up fast and clog up our throats with ashy leaves.moondust. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
our fingernails are ripped, jagged edges digging into pale skin and leaving white hot lines in their wake. our wings are crumpled, feathers bent and pressing into the expanse of our backs they're the weights on our shoulders, and there's no space left for anything else.
your tongue is cracked and so is mine. words no longer form, sounds no longer rise. dreams and wishes fall into the cracks as nightmares rush past them out into the open. that breathtaking sequel to life you were hoping for no longer exists we are now aimless, hopeless, and craving for sin.
we swallow moons and exhale moondust; we stray from orbits and into vacuums. but all we ever wanted were the touch of lightly powdered lips against our flesh.
115 words.a bright summer's day;115 words. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
there's something about the yellow of the sunlight and how it soaks through your hair, turning it golden, that makes his heart blossom. sometimes he wishes he could look at you like a normal person does, so his heart doesn't falter like it does, and he'd be spared the trouble of restarting it. bet you didn't know that, did you? the quiet laughs always present on your voice never ceases to makes his lips curve up ever so slightly, but when you hold him still with your eyes and tilt your head, yellow-golden hair falling to one side, he's mesmerized by the sight in front of him.
and you are, too.
message in a bottle."i never did realize how lonely the dark could be," you say matter-of-factly, your tone of voice somewhat ruined by the spherical drop of water running down your cheek.message in a bottle. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"i guess i'm just not used to it. it never was dark with you here," you continue, brow furrowing and fingers twisting. you dip your toes in the icy seawater, and allow shivers to run up your spine.
you pull your jacket tighter around you and walk on, toes pushing on sand and the moonlight kissing stray strands of hair. as you stop to fiddle with a shell on the ground with your big toe, you spy a shimmering, green bottle bobbing up and down in the water. reaching out as far as you can without getting wet, you manage to hook a finger around its neck and pull it in.
washing sand off the bottle and drying it, you settle yourself down upon a rock and play with the grooves. "wouldn't it be nice to be able to bottle up love? i'd have bottled up yours so i wouldn't be missing your love so very much right now."
you prop the bott
don't let go.when we were three years old, you would push me on the swing with all your might, but i'd only rise a few feet off the ground. but then again, back then, it seemed like a hundred feet, and we were both exhilarated, and happy.don't let go. in Short Stories More Like This
when we were eleven, we would spend a weekend just running around the garden, making mud pies and 'discovering' treasures 'hidden' in the dirt. when our mud pies would fill the steps, we'd upturn them back onto the earth, and we were both dirty, and happy.
when we were seventeen, we would climb to the top of a hill on weekends and stay there till the sun rises, accompanied by lingering touches and mums' food. when sunrays blinked into our eyelids, we'd half slide, half laugh our way down the hill, and we were both tired, and happy.
when we were twenty-three, we would sit cross-legged from one other in your apartment, not daring to look in each other's eyes, and staring at our fingertips instead, which were centimeters apart. then one of us would reach out of pull
sing a song of love.you set your finished cup of coffee down on the table and head over to the kitchen counter. picking up your keys, you washes down the coffee with a gulp of water and a mint. checking the clock hanging above the doorframe, you fish around in a drawer for a stick-it note and a marker. writing him a little note, you sign it off with a heart, and stick it on the coffee pot. as you pull your jacket on, you hear a trilling voice coming from the bedroom. standing still, you listen. your lips curve up into the widest smile as you see him dance into the kitchen, singing a made up song with lyrics consisting of i love yous and your name. he cuts the song off with a squeak, a reddened face, and a soft, "i thought you left." you continue to point your blinding smile in his direction.sing a song of love. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"you know what? maybe i won't go to work today. come on, let's go for a walk." you shrug your jacket off and fit his hand perfectly into yours.
"and you can sing me your new song while we walk."
your tears don't save a soul.[it took him 129 days to finally stop breathing without you there.]your tears don't save a soul. in Free Verse More Like This
on day 32, he bought flowers and slid them into a thin vase
on the windowsill. a petal fell off and floated to a silent rest
on the water's surface, and a single ripple weakly faded away.
he threw the flowers out that night.
on day 58, he woke from a nightmare, clawed at the pillow
your picture was on, and his fingernail snagged on the paper.
he gazed wantonly for a minute at the ragged shreds, then
promptly turned on his side and shut his eyes.
the torn-up paper drifted off into the cracks between the floors.
on day 99, he thought you came back, and he cried out in joy,
only to watch as the tears washed away the blurred image of you.
he clutched at the wadded up napkins in his hand, and teardrops
fell, blending into the many there before them.
he saw you again that night, and wished himself to wake up.
[on day 129, he lay six-and-a-half feet under the ground,
white daises scattered daintily around the freshly mounted
spare change.so i dreamt of you last night.spare change. in Short Stories More Like This
as usual, you are with me, but as usual, i can't find you. so i scream your name, again and again until my throat goes raw and i wake, with my fists clenched, swallowing my sobs.
and i see him there, lying peacefully on his side, stray strands of hair fluttering under his breath as he sleeps. i look at him and your name pops into mind, but it's wrong.
i fear i'll say something i shouldn't, and he'll just love me more. i know when he wakes, he'll flash me a smile that breaks hearts. he'll ask for a morning kiss, and that's when your name will run repeatedly over and over in my head and spill over onto my lips. and i'll pray he doesn't taste it there.
he'll run the tub for me, somehow knowing the perfect temperature and amount of soap suds. he'll wash my hair for me, fingers trailing along my skin, and my tears will fall into the mixture of warm water and bubbles, leaving no trace, just a little extra salt.
he'll make me coffee, a pot of warmth and c
mirages.he's a beautiful boy dressed as a nightmare, and he manages to lull everyone into his eyes. tendrils of blood trail after his delicate fingers, and he says he can be taken higher than ever. he holds you as gently as possible, and his skin silently burns alongside yours. something about his kisses tastes not quite right, but when he presses his red, red lips harder against yours, you can't quite focus.mirages. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
he paints mirages of broken legs and collapsed hearts, draws suns of forgotten dreams and fearsome pulsations. because somehow, he doesn't survive, doesn't live through storms of fire, doesn't end up seeing the light of day. he scratches at the smudges on his skin and he whispers to his art, your side has become cold, and sometimes i don't want to be with you anymore.
you were a love of art that was taken too far.
oh baby please, don't go.i.oh baby please, don't go. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you're half-awake, entangled in the covers and he's nowhere near you. groggy, disoriented and very much hating life, you stumble to the door of your room and wrench it open, only to see a vast expanse of sky and nothing else below. you blink twice before you feel your stomach heave. you never knew you had a fear of heights.
when it finally dawns on you that your room is hovering somewhere in the atmosphere, you settle down on the edge of your bed and wonder if you're dead. in all honesty, you wouldn't mind being dead. besides, there's nothing to live for, is there? you look at the corner of the bedspread that you've been playing with, and you realize that the pattern's different. frowning, you glance back at your bed and you come face to face with your bed in a whole new bedspread.
it takes you eleven minutes to notice that even though it's your room by proxy, there are things that are missing, replaced with items that aren't yours. for instance, there's an opaque jar sitti
I'm So TiredI'm so tired of crying,I'm So Tired in Free Verse More Like This
I'm so tired of loving,
I'm so tired of dying
inside my soul each day.
I'm so tired of hoping,
I'm so tired of dreaming,
I'm so tired of imagining.
It will never be real anyway.
I'm so tired of falling,
I'm so tired of failing,
I'm so tired of walking
when love is so far away.
I'm so tired of wishing,
I'm so tired of searching,
I'm so tired of remembering
those beautiful things you used to say.
I'm so tired of bleeding,
I'm so tired of yearning,
I'm so tired of living
in a world that's grey.
But most of all I'm tired,
of being the person I am,
I'm tired of my mistakes,
I'm tired of my broken heart.
I'm just so tired of being me.
The Girl With 100 NamesThere goes the girl with 100 names,The Girl With 100 Names in Free Verse More Like This
walking off into the world with nothing but fear.
What do they think of her outfit today?
Does she even fit in here?
In front of her are unfamiliar faces,
that blaze with judging eyes,
but what they say behind her back,
might come as a surprise.
She's pretty, she's smart,
I love her sense of style,
cute, adorable friendly,
with the most heart-warming smile.
She's darling, she's talented,
with a voice like sweet honey,
lovely, beautiful, sunny.
She's got so much potential,
she's keen and bright,
her seemingly lonely eyes,
possess a sort of light.
She's encouraging she's funny,
she's gorgeous and charming,
she's kind to those around her,
my, my, what a darling.
But she turns a deaf ear,
and a blind eye,
she thinks that every compliment,
is a degrading lie.
There goes the girl with 100 names,
walking off into the world with nothing but fear,
still lonely and searching,
for those words she refuses to hear.
FriendshipI found it one morning,Friendship in Free Verse More Like This
just sitting there,
its beautiful colors intrigued me,
I could only stop and stare.
When I finally grew used to it,
I brought it inside,
I watered and fed the flower,
I set everything aside.
It thrived for many years,
bringing it's color to my life,
its beauty like none other,
its thorns as sharp as a knife.
One day I found to my dismay,
my lovely treasure was dying,
I know it sounds silly, it's only a flower,
but I couldn't help crying.
I tried so hard to make it better,
I gave it all I could,
I tried to talk it into living,
but the flower never understood.
When the last petal fell,
I felt my hopes drop,
why I cried, I knew not,
but the pain didn't ever stop.
My treasure is gone now,
yet I still feel strangely dead,
I'm surrounded by other wonderful flowers,
but my heart is as heavy as lead.
Human Nature When you are young,Human Nature in Free Verse More Like This
they will treat you with the softness of spring.
They will guide you through the winter winds and
over snowy hills, admiring the brilliance of your
midday innocence; pulling daisies from the earth
just to place them in your hair. And they will
whisper to each other of how beautiful you are.
When you grow older,
they will treat you with the indifferences of autumn.
They will urge you from the complacency of your own
fleeting fulfillments, and they will watch your
brilliance fade with the swiftness of the sky. You
will shed your fragile childhood with the colors of
the trees, and you will learn to face the winter winds
without their guiding arms. And they will whisper to
each other of how beautiful you are.
When you are grown,
they will treat you with the coldness of winter. They
will leave you bare and naked before the ravenous wolves,
expecting you to fend for your own forgotten brilliance,
asking why you've kept those wilting daisies in your hair.
UntitledThere was something of the night, she would say, which had always frightened her.Untitled in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It wasn't the moonless shadows or the strange prolixity of sounds, but the way the skyline would shatter just beyond the city's crest, as if proving to her childish mind that nothing is truly limitless. Not even the sky.
i really want to...i allowed the word to curli really want to... in Free Verse More Like This
against the ceiling of my mouth.
cradling the absence of a
storm that never came
roosting over rafters of a
note stretched far too long.
seeping through my teeth and
pulling moisture from the rain.
There Was a Storm TodayThere Was a Storm Today in Free Verse More Like This
The palms of rain and soil applauded as they met,
twisting their fingers to knot a streaming brook.
Lightning followed, pounding its fists against the smoking sky,
While gusts of wind erupted; raindrop fireworks.
Mist began to swirl above the steaming pavement-
(reminding me of those winters by the lake so long ago.)
The puddles chased the passing storm to clear
the dusted streets and wash the trees of poor habits.
Again the lightning flickered, like a dying silver bulb
swinging by a string in some attic from the past.
The storm exhales once more to retract its mighty arms.
And so the afternoon awaits the sun to press her fingers through the clouds
So the birds can fly again.
Paper CranesPaper Cranes in Free Verse More Like This
The tilting creek dipped below
the arches of a wild unfurling hillside
humming in the scented breeze.
There was a child, I remember-
Squatting low at river's waist.
He released a paper-crane
which bent against the flower-foamed waves
in junctures pantomiming a butterfly's sail.
There he sat motionless as the keel and mast
hooked a sharpened silver wind,
guiding it through the river's adverse walls
of rubble and terrain.
I followed it now, bending back autumn trees
and stumbling grainy dunes.
It ducked beneath the shadows of a broken sky
and bound like a fish through rosy churns of liquid sapphire.
Faster I ran, to maintain its pace
Skidding backwards down the auburn slopes
until it vanished; evaporated
past the frosting horizon
and haloed through sifting clouds.
When I turned around
...The boy was gone.
InertiaSometimes, I feel so very sorry forInertia in Free Verse More Like This
the letters that I write.
Born onto a blank page and
trapped there all their lives.
No new sites to see, no unfamiliar faces to meet;
standing in a lonely row
just to express my thoughts as words,
and yet, completely unable to express their own.
They lie paralyzed in their birthplace
lacking the ability to grow and learn.
Immovable to change for the rest of their lives.
And sometimes, I wonder to myself,
why I choose to be the same.
SadnessSadness had always been an active resident in the places I had lived.Sadness in Free Verse More Like This
It swelled and breathed and scented the breeze like the dying petals of spring,
floating through open windowpanes and settling like dust on the empty shelves.
Sometimes it just appeared without visible entry like the cobwebs that roost in those corners you had thought so clean just a day ago. Or it unraveled in the morning dew and graced the cold spring skies, scattered like hundreds of wandering stars only visible in the light of a window.
It would melt into my morning tea, cooling the little tornadoes of cream and sugar that spun around my spoon and it would pass behind my pupils as I stood before the bathroom mirror.
I could hear it at night like an insect, clicking across my skull, etching tallies in the walls like a prisoner counting the days without the sun.
Sadness swelled and breathed and surrounded me until I was certain that it was simply a part of my being; the part as close to myself as my skin and my bon
Listening For InspirationTaste the breath of timid wordsListening For Inspiration in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
arising from my speech.
Dripping through my lips,
unfurling sails of poetry.
Catching wind of empty waves,
the words fall one by one.
They stoop the gentle break of day
and melt through river's run.
Curl beneath the shaded trees
and hide in hollowed rocks.
They topple through the spider's weave
and splash through bursting drops.
Sit behind the sunset
and before the rising skies,
dipping palms in Bluejay's songs
while frosting tearful eyes.
Complimenting purple streaks
across the orange noon.
Their silhouetting shadows casting
freckles for the moon.
Passing secret whispers
through the cursive of my pen,
these sleeping inspirations wait
to see the sun again.