In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
Tired, Exhausted, DrainedTired, Exhausted, Drained:Tired, Exhausted, Drained in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am bloody exhausted! Drained to the core of my soul.
I wake up every morning with bags; burning ever deeper into my eyes.
Sunken masses of flesh, reminding me that the dreamscape -
One in which I sought refuge; is now buried where it lies.
Yet still I force myself to trudge through this wilderness.
Forever caught in a moon drenched, delusory twilight.
An endless cycle of failure and renewed hope;
Giving rise to the very stubbornness that defines me.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th February 2013
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
Memories of WarMemories of War:Memories of War in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...
A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?
Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...
And the world will soon forget.
Fill my heart with this regret?
For the victims written in stone.
Unspoken sin you now atone...
Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain.
Now we both know we be broken;
Give this man his smokin' token.
Held up guns with both his hands;
Not a boy he's cause he's a man.
Order comes by a suit and hand.
Will you flee or will you stand?
This is a memory of our war,
Of all the things that we can't ignore.
And staying blind to the cries of pain...
Will lonely ashes be what remai
These Tears Would Come:These Tears Would Come:These Tears Would Come: in Free Verse More Like This
If my tears could tell a story of two -
What would they have to say about you?
Of a boy who spent his whole life seeking
And a girl who found it in the arms of another…
Would they tell us of laughter? Beneath a starlit sky,
Or of harsh words exchanged on bitter nights.
Would they speak of moments, so beautifully captured;
To be enjoyed in memory, like a perfect wine.
Or perhaps they would tell us of an untampered truth:
Of the lonely nights spent longing, for an Eden lost.
Captivated, habituated, to this lonely habit of you;
For her alone, these tears would come.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 31st march 2013
The Flower of EvilThe Flower of Evil:The Flower of Evil in Free Verse More Like This
Evil is but a blooming flower,
It is born from a humble seed
And grows to corrupt a forest.
To watch its infection spread;
To be a part of its existence...
I can think of no better prospect,
Indeed one might baulk at the idea,
Of seeing millions suffer.
To watch worlds scream and writhe;
To see them suffer and die, with living eyes...
Yet there is a mysterious beauty in such devastation,
Fear that shakes me to my very core;
Is transfigured into a twisted pleasure:
As I am frightened, so too am I aroused.
I am addicted to the ephemeral sensation;
To the borderline between rapture and rupture.
To see my own blood soaking from splitting wounds;
Leaves me maddened amongst these blooming flowers
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st May 2013
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
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!"
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
She Dances With FireShe dances with fire, a dragon in tow.She Dances With Fire in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Twirling with flames; graceful and slow
She dances tonight, in a city of ash.
Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash.
Quietly mourning, as time goes by;
Where once she beheld a home in her eyes...
Yet naught but the barest of bones remain,
And so she dances, to soothe the pain.
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
I Love You, DaddyDaddy, please don't touch me.I Love You, Daddy in Free Verse More Like This
It doesn't feel good.
It makes me feel..
Daddy, please don't hit me.
I didn't mean to disappoint you.
When you hit me, it makes me feel...
Daddy, please don't hurt her.
Mommy didn't do anything.
When you hit her, it makes me feel..
Daddy, please don't say you love me.
I know you're lying.
When you say you still want me, it makes me feel...
Daddy, please stop screaming at her.
You already killed her.
When you scream at her, it makes me feel..
Daddy, stay there.
Let me sink the knife into your throat.
When you bleed, it makes me feel..
Daddy, aren't you happy now?
As you lie there, lifeless.
I'm only following your footsteps.
This makes me feel...
Daddy, please listen.
I know you can't hear me, but...
I still love you.
The same way you always loved me.
And it makes me feel...
It makes me feel..
The Face At The DoorThe face at the door is a demon, a godThe Face At The Door in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles through stitches, his stare rather odd
The face at the door is a cruel, silent being
Yet, people are calm, and the children aren't fleeing
Quiet yourself, for you're the only one
Crying for help at the point of a gun
Learn how to fly, rather, learn how to fall,
The face at the door... well... there's no face at all.
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
SchizophreniaShh.Schizophrenia in Free Verse More Like This
Look behind you.
"Are you okay?"
Shapes, forms, bodies, animals, plants
Shifting, moving, being
"What's wrong with you?"
You're a freak.
No one wants you.
You should kill yourself, let them out of their misery
Or we'll do the job for you.
"They're fake, you know."
No they're not.
"What are you doing?"
This is how I live.
Save me, from the monsters, the shadows
"What can I do?"
You can stop.
You can stop being ignorant
Good Enough... for YOU.As I sit here cradling the blade in my handsGood Enough... for YOU. in Free Verse More Like This
Treasuring the moments I wish that I had
I can't stop growing more lost and confused
I can't stop thinking... am I good enough for you?
As I sit here, wrapping the rope around my neck
No one will understand a meaning so complex
I simply can't stop thinking about it somehow
Thinking, am I good enough for you now?
As I sit here, pulling the trigger on the gun
I think, maybe I was never meant for "the one"...
goes the bullet.
For when I think it through...
I really won't ever be good enough for you.
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.
I am not a stereotypeSlide the blade across your wrist.I am not a stereotype in Free Verse More Like This
"Doesn't it hurt?"
I can't feel anything.
Punch your own stomach.
Does it hurt yet?
"Why do you do that?"
The pain makes me feel alive.
"I don't know."
"What's wrong with you?"
I'm dead inside.
I'm just depressed.
Stare at your arms.
"What are you doing?"
I just have low self esteem.
I'm just human.
I'm just me.
Little Red HousesLittle red house on the corner left to fadeLittle Red Houses in Free Verse More Like This
Tire swing swaying above a sparkling blade
Silver gown, just for the hour
Starts out sweet then you taste the sour
A little girl's heart doesn't last for long
When a little girl gone right goes horribly wrong
One little fall means blood on the breeze
Little red house with a ghost to please.
What Happened?I used to think make upWhat Happened? in Free Verse More Like This
Made people ugly.
Now I think I'm ugly without it.
I used to think people
Always loved me.
Now I think everyone hates me.
I used to think everybody
Was my best friend.
Now I think no one truly is.
I used to think
Boys were icky!
Now I wish I had one.
What happened to being
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamA lion among sheep. in Free Verse More Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
Please, forgive me.Like lies, you saidPlease, forgive me. in Free Verse More Like This
I make breathing the cosmos
through rose colored lungs
look easy- vertebrae stretched
toward the moon.
& I'm hanging my bones
out to dry, carving Saturn's
rings into my wrists- my
star burst ankles.
I swore then I'd keep my
black tongued poetry
& uprooted limbs far,
far away from you.
But, like lies, galaxies,
& night fevers, you
are the destination
on my star map skin.
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;
It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,It's all about her, in Free Verse More Like This
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.
-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present
-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”
Milky Waymy body is a road mapMilky Way in Free Verse More Like This
of hazard signs
but on the days
when the mirror
is nice to me,
i can hear
like little racing
beneath my skin:
you are not worthless.
you are strong.
your ribcage has a meaning-
these bruises are
ste ti & you are the Milky Way.
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.
Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.Therapists, I don't like their taste. in Free Verse More Like This
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through the storm of my mind
like a lighthouse-
instead of pills,
if a therapist could
give me the strength
i might just
take my chances.
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.
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.
NecromancyShe thinks there are nebulaeNecromancy in Free Verse More Like This
in the rough of my gutter bones,
some stargazing sanctuary
for lonely outcasts to lay their heads.
I am but a car crash,
& red inked corrections
on crosshatched skin.
Made up of moans,
the clutching of bedsheets;
I am contemplating
ripping my ribs apart
I never had a heart at all.
But my moon shy love;
she is determined
to try & wake the dead.
.pour love all. in Free Verse More Like This
over, then strike
the fire will
burn itself out,
but the ruins
.you are dead and buried. in Free Verse More Like This
six feet under yourself,
still feeling the way you did
when you were seventeen
and when you bathe, you still
keep your head under the
water, wrists upturned, red
eyes open, trying to drown yourself
.and i stopped killing spiders. in Free Verse More Like This
when i realized that we are both just trying
to make our way in the world
and he hasn't got a clue
how he ended up on my bathroom floor
and i can turn out the lights to
stop the moths from killing themselves
but i can't turn off my brain and
stop myself from doing the same
.sometimes. in Free Verse More Like This
in my head
curl up in
the beat of
.you're afraid. in Free Verse More Like This
to let anyone
stoke the fire
in your chest
you will burn
.horrors prey on. in Free Verse More Like This
dreams, and sleep can
do nothing about it
a lamb strays
from the flock;
a wolf grins
.i wanted to bathe. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
in fire; for the amber tongues
to lick me clean, pure
.just try not to. in Free Verse More Like This
that memory, that one
wolf that calls
for the rest
of the pack;
you'll spend all
with them inside
we're legal murderers.how to love a writer:we're legal murderers. in Free Verse More Like This
will turn your passion
into works of extended metaphors
for death and decay,
slipping you scars
served sunny-side-up because,
hey, we all want to be
writers want someone, anyone
(usually the wrong one,
because pain sells more than
to try and pour cement
into the dents inside them
until they realize that they're really just
located in the wrong side of town
that cannot be repaired.
that is what we do.
we break people
for a living.
it's too early for a meltdown.the only timeit's too early for a meltdown. in Free Verse More Like This
i ever miss you
is at 3:02 am,
my thoughts and
come pressing down
like the hands of
statues in the dead of
they choke me and
cut me open
just to see me bleed,
and it makes me remember
that you were the
who could make it all
to myself.i'm happy,to myself. in Free Verse More Like This
i tell myself
when i get in my
almost running late for
i'll be okay,
is what i whisper to myself
during the middle of a test.
knows all the answers,
it gets better.
that's what i'm going to say
the next time
i see someone with
10/8i cut myself just above the knee,10/8 in Free Verse More Like This
a friendly reminder
as to why i can't run away anymore.
(& it's not working.)
to become a writer.parents divorce before you can talk.to become a writer. in Free Verse More Like This
write about it
like you don't care.
try to mean it.
go through months
of shitty pity-leaking almost-poems
before you get one
that actually makes someone feel
say that it was all a mistake.
only feel like a writer
when you're insecure.
fall in love
with someone. anyone.
that's it's just for fun. just for being
actually love the hell out of them.
mess it up.
write about it.
smoke 2-5 cigarettes every day,
but with the hopes
of saving your lungs for running
(a metaphor? another rule: never tell)
and drink and drink and drink
until you have the courage
to call up ex boyfriends
or lovers or dead friends
to say that you miss them.
write about that-
like you don't care.
everyone knows that you care.
write about that.
the lives of past loves.i. nthe lives of past loves. in Free Verse More Like This
above all else, i
would like to thank
for waiting under the
i'm sorry i never got
to see you
you- the boy who
you showed me what
you made me believe
that i actually did
have eyed as bright
as the ocean.
but you taught me
that following your
is not always the right
with your heart
in places you've
never been, you left behind
the only ones
that gave you a place
that red Camaro won't
get you out
oh, those big
gentle-killer eyes- i
loved you for wanting
to put me back
you loved me for how
apart in your
the one with his soul
caught in the
clouds- don't let
these one way streets
bring you down.
just promise me that you
will always remember
how happiness tasted
on your tongue.
.she said to look. in Free Verse More Like This
at the sky whenever i
"i'll be the closest
but she never said what to
do when it's
a poem for the roads and skies.shaking, ia poem for the roads and skies. in Free Verse More Like This
carve religion into my
arm just to
remind me that i am
somehow, i have
my entire life- i'm telling you, the
devil is in the
it's in the way
the trees bend outside the
churches and the
funeral home, the smell of
convergence in the
and i am stuck
half-in-love and humming
while burning my heart
the face in the mirror can't keep eye contact.there is a hummingthe face in the mirror can't keep eye contact. in Free Verse More Like This
in my chest;
crashing and howling and
high, i tear
at my own flesh in the hopes
and i hear people talking
about how everything
is growing up, and how they are
changing, moving- and i still feel like
i will always be the same
i will always be the
atmosphere headed girl with
awkward lips and
gray eyes, and i will be remembered
by the one who
swallowed every star and
everything she still couldn't
feel, who smoked and
her lungs were more full of
bullshit than her
and i will always be the one who
will write until i
cry and scream and narrate
my fucked up head
on my open
arm, to taste my own
i'm so scared.
that's how i'll
go; a storm, a fucking
hurricane, and then i
Bite Your Tongue Till It BleedsBite Your Tongue Till It BleedsBite Your Tongue Till It Bleeds in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Speak now or forever hold your peace,
Or is it piece?
‘Cause if I hold this piece of my mind,
To myself, there will be no peace,
Only an explosion of the mental mine
That riddles mine.
I’m no man, I’m a mime,
Holding his hands over his mouth,
Biting my tongue so these words have no way out,
With my eyes half-lidded, the other half brimmin’,
With tears near the bottom half of the rim,
Ready to fall like rainwater races down a windowsill.
Angry to the point where I wish I could control the skies,
Rain down Hell and fury that has built up inside,
And watch my furious vision destroy the night.
But this is not me,
This not how I am,
Nor how I will ever be.
It’s just that I’ve been holding my peace
For such a long damn time.
Now it just seems the only “peace” I’m holding,
Are pieces of my mind.
SeclusionSeclusionSeclusion in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Sometimes you need seclusion to reclaim your mind.
Blacken your vision and close your eyes,
Plug your ears from the outside,
As you fall back, back inside of “I.”
And not “we,” “he,” “she,” but me.
Sometimes to find myself,
I must lose everyone else.
To The Boys Who Died In Their SleepTo The Boys Who Died In Their SleepTo The Boys Who Died In Their Sleep in Free Verse More Like This
c(h)ords s n
cadence in codas
lives into over
on the other
and time folds like old laundry
fade into two endpoints
like closed lines
this is ad nauseum
not ad infinitum
Interstellar LullabyInterstellar LullabyInterstellar Lullaby in Free Verse More Like This
call it what you will,
be it minutes or hours of
or babylon’s legacy
passed down in stories and legends,
word of mouth or the slightest touch
the blood of the fables,
flow throughout your veins,
trailing down your arms to your wrists,
tips of your digits rearing your claws,
tearing black holes into infinity,
as your vision looks to leave your own tale,
in this ocean of emptiness.
tide’s out, and it’s been that way for awhile now-
but honey, tides don’t move in the middle of the desert,
you have to build them to flow between rooftop jungles
and hope they’re as good as the originals,
because that’s as close as you’ll ever get
so drown in the sweet smell of silk road smoke,
and bright spices welcoming you to sin city
then it finally hits you,
like a spacecraft crashing down to earth
carrying extraterrestrials and connivance.
the origin may never be duplicated
TempestTempestTempest in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
grey matter like that of a thunderstorm,
thoughts and clouds close together--
lightning and words plunge from the downpour.
to these confines we do not conform,
words and letters an unrivaled vortex
grey matter like that of a thunderstorm,
raining down from the welkin core,
conceptions scatter across creation,
lightning and words plunge from the downpour.
turbulence in the lives of those who transform
salvation is hard to grasp
grey matter like that of a thunderstorm,
hard to understand, but as water hits your pores,
oracle reigns and the tempest rains upon you.
lightning and words plunge from the downpour.
a heart does not deform
without the traumatic blow
grey matter like that of a thunderstorm,
lightning and words plunge from the downpour.
Biophilic CannibalBiophilic CannibalBiophilic Cannibal in Free Verse More Like This
only concur when antiquity
is met with antagonism.
they occur and concede
when memories are
tainted grime and smut,
met with carrion redolence.
there is adoration
of all living systems
only when organs
peek through organisms.
Believe What LiesBelieve What LiesBelieve What Lies in Free Verse More Like This
Why do empty smiles appear prettiest?
For the simple reason this is the one you choose to believe,
Without looking for the actual truth that lie behind those eyes,
For apathy has set in; maybe you’re just tired of trying…..
Eternal VisionaryEternal VisionaryEternal Visionary in Free Verse More Like This
And what is darkness,
When your soul is the fire,
That lights the internal cavern.
When the soul controls things
That could never be seen,
You will always be a visionary
As long as you have pneuma,
Breathing throughout your being.
And the soul never dies,
Never loses its sight.
It is plain as day.
Obvious as the night.
It is forever a constant,
It is the seat of our actuality,
With legs of unbreakable fortitude,
Arms of eternal comfort,
And the back of immortality.
And you shall live forevermore
In the seat of infinity.
You will always be a visionary.
Head(space(s)Head(space(s)Head(space(s) in Free Verse More Like This
i’m riding in a caravan
of unseen cores
and metaphor holds.
meta forms holding cords
creating an unseen caravan
as feign swaddles headspaces
off the case mouth
and necrosis dust.
forward motion halted
by my head-room,
the cartridge is no more,
assault when the mind is brought
into a gunfight.
assart when the forest
is unable to be seen for the trees.
my mind is shot
and i’ve been discharged.
GhostGhostGhost in Free Verse More Like This
i hold my own wrist,
as if it's broken,
'cause there are no hands,
available left to hold it.
to rest in the base
of your touch cannot happen.
it's much too tough to ask.
so i sit staring
into a blank field,
body in reverie,
mind in ennui,
sick of you and i.
i love you
but hate i fell too
deep into the pool,
of what I thought was true.
5 feet, 5 inches,
around my 5'7'' frame,
now left a shell.
my arms hold me,
as i clutch my abdomen,
and rest against the floor.
i lie there,
knowing the pain
will finally stop
that it's just beginning.
because the hardest
part about this,
is loving a ghost
that isn't dead in body,
but in your mind,
and you can't kill her,
no matter how much
you wanna take the gun
and pull the trigger.
so i let pellucid phantoms
perplex the crevices
of my intricate labyrinth.
and i let the apparition
fly around inside,
before it fades and dissipates,
just like the b
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.Maybe in Free Verse More Like This
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
Perfect on PaperWe cut heartsPerfect on Paper in Free Verse More Like This
into paper to make streams
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nibIn absence of a poem. in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.
I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;
I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.
Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.
I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So words can't tell you how I love you -
I hope my silence will tell you instead.
The GhostAlright, I'll bite.The Ghost in Free Verse More Like This
I'll squirm and fold myself over
as a swelling of dough
pats down into itself;
hunkering down for the night.
I know when to fold
and when to hold; so I'll wait.
Wait while you leave me
packing up the uncomfortable
furniture in my mind.
I'll bubble wrap my dreams
and hold my breath in storage
and leave myself hollow
with only the echo of us inside.
You have me on the hook
So it's alright to let me wriggle
and slip through the carrion;
the wrecked remains of
my maggotous life.
I can't help but drop my head,
lose my pride, wait for death.
Maybe heads will roll
onto happily waiting Guillotine
and depart me from my troubles.
Until then I remain
the pestilent, petulant skeleton
rapping its ivory against the door
- Let me out of your closet.
I don't want to be
a secret that you hide from yourself
in the royal tower in your head;
a delusion, or the girlfriend
of only one personality.
I don't want to drape my cerements here
and let them stick to your floor.
If I must die, le
Framed[ I met him at the county fair.Framed in Free Verse More Like This
It wasn't like the songs predicted;
I had mud up my shins and he
had grass in his hair. What a mess. ]
[ I kissed him at my grandma's house.
He swallowed me and digested me;
I became a part of his simmering self.
We fused together, and I died. ]
[ I married him in a triangular church,
When I turned up in white he grinned
and whispered "what, no muddy knees?".
I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ]
[ He kissed her at my grandma's house.
She had left it to us when she passed.
In the house where I'd learned about love
he taught me all I know about betrayal. ]
[ He left me at the train station.
I'd helped him with his leather suitcase,
struggling to get a grip of the situation
I gave a habitual kiss goodbye. Awkward. ]
[ He met another girl in group therapy.
They had a mad, passionate affair for a year
then, it expired. Shortly after, she did too.
He came to me, life turning to sand. ]
[ I forgave him at my birthday party
surrounded by friends wh
Sweet CornHe shuckedSweet Corn in Free Verse More Like This
to the spine.
Broke off the gold until
but the stalk remained;
and broken open.
The ribcage spilled
and gushed her pain
upon the sheets.
She lay in the blood
and wept, for the lie
she had lost.
You'll Never DieHear me read it!You'll Never Die in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They say that if a writer falls in love with you then you never really die.
Instead your body is laid out in its funerial shrouds and moulds are made. Soft impressions of you to be pressed onto the blank faces of future loves.
Every time I write of taking comfort in a safe place in a storm, it will be your forearm. Every half-made smile will be on your lips, and every touch will be constructed from the residue beneath your fingernails.
When I metaphise of trees' blood, the leaves that give the energy so that a willow can provide shade for those in need, it will be your blood, it will be your light drenched kisses.
Every tear on every face will taste of the sweat that you put into keeping me happy. Every soaring song of love will be played through your windpipe, your trachea my instrument of choice.
For every time that a hero has the strength to walk on, I will use your feet. I will weld them to my own and walk a mile. Wal
The PlaylistA group of us lying on the floorThe Playlist in Free Verse More Like This
in a too-small apartment
that can’t hold a fraction of our disorders
syndromes and symptoms
tucked under the kitchen sink
and in between self help books
and in the pages of love poetry
only half meant.
A group of us lying on the floor
wishing we could see the stars.
but thats not how the architecture
has been set up for us
we have to live our lives blinkered
from the celestial
but at least we have each other.
A group of us lying on the floor
letting music replace our immune systems
not caring if a misspent lyric saves us,
not caring if a dropped note kills us
we don’t care about anything but the floor,
these walls, these chains,
that sound so familiar in an acoustic’s voice.
A group of us lying on the floor
caring about nothing but the ceiling
thats blocking out the light.
I Didn't Mean, I Didn't MeanI didn't mean to make you cringeI Didn't Mean, I Didn't Mean in Free Verse More Like This
when I mentioned the strength of your shoulders
- didn't want to see them fold in
to protect vulnerable organs
from words protruding rudely
out of disguised compliments.
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to shut your eyes
when I admired the specific shade of chamoisee
- didn't want to see you wince
as you prepared for an unfelt slap
and the long-lasting sting
of a bare, misshapen insult.
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to laugh
when I said that I find you beautiful
- didn't want to see you shake
and hear your voice choke
on the ridiculousness
of a misspent commendation.
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to hiss a sharp inhale
when I smiled at the sound of your voice
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to frown
when I stared at you too long
I didn't mean, I didn'
PorcelainDiane’s hand crashed hard into the porcelain as her knees hit the ground in front of her perfectly white toilet. She had over done it, she realised. She retched again and vomited into the bowl trying not to let the acrid smell fill her lungs because that smell often made her vomit again. She had been feeling rough for a couple of days but had decided to distract herself by cleaning, the kitchen was done but when it came to bleaching the bathroom the enclosed space made the cloying scent had seemed magnified somehow and it had stuck to the back of her throat until she had coughed it out. She was sick.Porcelain in Short Stories More Like This
She was sick and she hated to be sick. She pulled the plastic toilet seat down and rested her arm on it so she could lay her cheek against her wrist. She felt the tears streaking over her hand and it tickled unpleasantly, but she was exhausted from the exertion of being so drastically unwell, so she did not move.
Eventually she knew she would have to get up. Warren would be home soon
The Girl In A TeardropThere sits a shattered girl,The Girl In A Teardrop in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Imprisoned in her tormented tears,
Wishing she had not wasted her youthful years,
Looking for her one true pearl,
Who never showed his flawless face.
There weeps a sad girl,
Reflecting her mask in the mirror,
Seeing her self becoming thinner and thinner,
And now she sees the echoes of her age,
Guiding her back from her heartbroken mind.
There breathes a sorrowful girl,
Staring out of her sweet nectar sobs,
Hoping to escape from her self-infliction,
But what is out there for her to find?
Except a dawn of despair and dereliction.
you call me an angelyou call me an angelyou call me an angel in Free Verse More Like This
in spite of the bruises left on the fronts of my knees
stains of sin left on my skin;
the knots in my back,
you liken to the wings soon to burst from my shoulders
&tell me you can feel no sadness
when looking at my face-
eyes you analyse
into paints of the colour wheel,
several shades i have yet to see;
despite its crooked nature
thinning enamel from my sickness-
you still find me amongst the heavens.
as this once,
i kissed you to shut you up.
my skin is removing itself after my clothes
in the winter,
too unlike the white night of russian summers.
i kissed you &it was wet because i was crying
&every time our lips parted
another sob stuttered its way through the gap.
you heard what words i couldn't swallow,
the ones straining to pass over my tongue
yet drowned upon existence.
you listen to me until i lose my headstrong aim
to starve back to bones,
to see the angel wings i've lost in my skin
you touch &feel are there;
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
if alice in wonderland was set in 2012,i might cut my hair if it didn't remind me of you,if alice in wonderland was set in 2012, in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but just like the fade from september into the pits of october,
i'm not alice, this isn't wonderland, but i am just as surrounded by things that yell,
"eat me! drink me!" and they don't say it but i know they'll all make me bigger,
sadder, fatter, too big to fit into a house, my arms my legs come shooting out,
everything i feel is just too loud-
i should be better than i am.
i should be taking the world by the shoulders, shaking back its shoulders because i am a storm, i am a force of nature and you will take notice-
but my winds are quiet. my rain is sad.
i'm too afraid to swell up in full vigor,
to take what is mine in case it's taken from me again,
i will never forget what you did- in camera flash moments, in sharp moments-
to leave me broken.
there are some cuts that never close up.
there are some things that never get spoken.
and there are some things yo
the thing is i wish i were kidding but man,the sky fell when you left.the thing is i wish i were kidding but man, in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
beauty"you're beautiful."beauty in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"why don't you understand what i'm saying? you're beautiful."
"because girls tell me it all the time."
"yeah, but they don't mean it like i do."
"your face is beautiful, i'll give you that. sad puppy eyes, birds-in-flight lips, rocker-sloppy floppy hair. but your heart --"
"no, let me finish. your heart is so much more. you could fit the world inside there and feel it ache. that's what your pulse is. it's not blood, no ventricle contraction or atrium expansion, it's love. it's the ache of the world in your chest. that's why you're beautiful."
"why does it hurt so much?"
"because love hurts. and that's why we love. to hurt for others."
"to hurt for, or to just hurt others?"
"i don't want this."
"nobody does. everybody does."
"my heart isn't mine anymore, it's --"
"-- everybody else's. i know."
"what's wrong with me?"
"you're more beautiful than anyone in the world, that's what's wrong with you."
"that's a problem?
when you're not as much human as you are monsterevery human died. i'm still here.when you're not as much human as you are monster in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
redburnthe fever I burnredburn in Free Verse More Like This
in my belly
is agony and comfort.
and I worry my fingernails
quick to the wick
as their lives burn hot
like dripping candles;
they say you choose
the devil you know
over the one unknown,
the one who shares
your bed at night
because it keeps you
warm, you swear
it keeps you safe.
from over and over
picking my wounds open,
that I know I am more afraid
than I am afraid
overwhelming wordsthere's a lot you can do with wordsoverwhelming words in Free Verse More Like This
but sometimes i forget how to do any.
and sometimes i look at a keyboard
and see so many words that come together
from just some of those letters
and there's so much to write
that i don't write at all.
and sometimes i think
i drank deeply from the elixir of life
when i was too young
and when i drank i only drank the words
and i spilled them out in the morning
because the night was too silent to break it.
i wonder if the silence i've kept
is as big as the words i've written.
i'm not writing to be censored
it's not like i do that to myself
when the words come rolling
and i don't let them out,
when i'm running down the street
but don't make a sound,
it's not like i'm afraid to be loud.
i hope you can tell by the heat in my eyes
that my gaze turns steady as soon as i lie.
i hope you know that when i write
and my diction turns from eloquent and quaint
to fucking filthy and raging
that i'm finding myself,
even if that takes years off my life
by looking at
a letter to ethanyou're fifteen minutes away.a letter to ethan in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
that's a quarter of an hour, that's ten miles, that's space enough that i never have to see you again.
but still i feel my heart beating like a rabbit's foot against my rib.
i'm a girl still in denial
of being a woman with
breasts and hips and a womb.
i'm a child with my heart and i will surrender it foolishly
to the first boy to give me roses and push them into my hair.
i don't know how to love,
the way i don't know how how to stop.
but let me tell you this- it happens.
they both do.
i loved your fragile brown eyes like i'd never seen a warmer fire.
i sank my bones like an anchor to your earthly vessel and called it home.
i staggered home drunk every weekend we were together
by word only.
and i felt myself falling apart when i sighed
with sleepy repetition as we exhausted the same jokes as ever,
just a million miles different.
my mind drifted but i loved you.
the feathered finches in my chest were beat
sinking sadnessi will not burdensinking sadness in Free Verse More Like This
a soul so beautiful
that my hummingbird heart
with its stammers and stutters
silences its staccato beats.
i am struck
by the sad
i am struck
more and more
as i let my thoughts
sink me further.
i don't know how
to open my mouth
when my lips
stick together in my sleep.
i forget how to breathe
when i'm out at night
a few drinks under my belly
and men who are not you
rub their hands
up and down my body
in their minds.
is my fingers in my throat
because i sinned,
is the way my body has changed
but my mind hasn't,
is not knowing what
i'm doing to myself
is doing to you.
Confessionsthere’s a lot I never told youConfessions in Free Verse More Like This
1. I have a habit of lying, about
the simple things (like, yes I
forgot to remember and I swear by
soul mates and I’m in love
with your susurrus voice
and no, I’m really doing fine).
It was not an act of infidelity because
I believed it, too.
2. I’m infatuated with the concept
that I am more or less fictional, the
delusive beauty a million men will
dedicate novels to: I am fragile,
a dust angel sent to save the world
from commonalities and
3. Since I’m not allowed
to remember your name
I will commemorate you
in acts of escapism,
killing off the pieces
of the person you left behind.
4. I believe in a past life
I was a bird with a tendency
towards tall buildings; the sorry kind
of bird with heavy bones and crumpled wings
who never quite learned
to fly away.
5. I miss you. I used to think
you were a person, but now I know
you’re the happiness I will never
6. I'm sorry.
on how I need youtoday is a six-word story:on how I need you in Free Verse More Like This
I’m tired of waking up
I will peel back your
every insecurity and anxiety
and watch them fall to the floor
like vodka petals, regurgitated mosaics,
I will see you naked and
reborn and you will break apart
into passive aggressive poetic
dedications and unsent letters and
I will hate and love you
for the very same reasons and
I will move on.
unfilterediunfiltered in Free Verse More Like This
i’d tell you I hated you
if you had a voice or a face,
or any sense of tangibility aside
from the spider fingers you use
to crawl through my brain
you are not beautiful, like
all the other poets protest. you
are the red in my eye, like
a pen bled; the ragged to
my fingernails, the hitch of my breath
when it catches in my throat.
before i go, i’ll write a million letters (a million
pennies for my thoughts, bitter, embedded
under my tongue) and send them to people
i’ve never met, telling them how my eyes were blue
when i was little but now are the same gray
i’m choking on, how i am maddie and how that’s short
for a name i was never graceful enough for, how
i tell myself stories of lives i’ll never live so i
can go to sleep
because when i’m really gone, that’s all that’ll be left
(it’s funny what people
try to justify with words)
you never loved me,
you selfish thing, i wonder why
i wasted so many nights relivin
Amnesiacsmaybe you forgot how toAmnesiacs in Free Verse More Like This
wake up without screaming.
she smiles like a broken dawn
and the meek will inherit the
earth, if they don't drown,
first. she's barely breathing;
trying to grow gills because
it's only in the state of dying
that we adapt.
and you won't see the colors
pouring out of her chest, you
won't hear the ebbing swansong
she hums so quietly.
you didn't come to be reminded.
you inject a little further, a little
closer to the heart. numb.
(she died the day she
was given a name)
she made you promise never
to be a number, or a majority;
she made your heart beat in a way
that made you think you were alive,
but you can't believe in anything
that lasts longer than a minute.
you shut down. fingers
close around an empty bottle,
a flaccid tongue writhes
and it tastes bitter.
she's too close, you can hear
her thoughts unwind, you can
taste her mistakes. it's too real.
you were never human, you
tell yourself so you can be
convinced it was never valid.
she's too close and
existentialism and shoddy metaphorsI was violet-cheeked andexistentialism and shoddy metaphors in Free Verse More Like This
diamond-hearted; a work
of art in reverse,
tearing between my ribs
and calling it beautiful,
and I wonder now why they
never taught me this in school;
the sepia-saturated glow life
gives out some point after
you’ve realized wishes are
for those who’ve not yet
woken more alone than when
they went to sleep,
they never taught me all
the reasons why or that
sin tastes sweet. I met
my maker once in a backalley
bar, stormy eyes and peppermint
breath, charming off a hangover;
he sighed, “I know how many
days it’ll take you to give up
completely. I know how many
dreams you’ve sold away and
how many lies you need to
swallow before you can fall asleep.
I know that you’ve never quite
grown up and I know that
you’re afraid of me” he
smiled silent and downed
another drink, losing himself
in the ramblings of a solipsistic
existence where “I” am finally all
that matters (and sometimes
I believe I was built hollow
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
CountedI am a number.Counted in Free Verse More Like This
twenty times I broke, fourteen times I lied, six pieces of my heart lent
goodbye, two times I didn't want to make it, one failure
and countless broken things;
infinite words abandoned trembling and lonely and cold.
I'm so cold and it's spring and the ground is alive to make up
for the mistakes I bury; the cherry blossoms are wilting
black, drooping so low to the ground that it is a blanket
as far as the eye can see:
fallen flowers die like starsick soldiers, begging please, oh,
please take me home so
I can leave on my own threshold and kiss the walls of
my own making and see my wife for a final time, please,
take me home where there are lullabies and nightlights
and bedside wishes; where the air isn't thick with the
scent of sinning men, oh god I'm sorry
that life is inevitability and the failure before me is as set
Curing Depression in Seven Easy Steps1. apologize profusely toCuring Depression in Seven Easy Steps in Free Verse More Like This
the ones you were honest with,
the ones who believe in you,
the ones who never cared,
the boy who thought you were
worth it, the girl who stayed up
all night to hear you breakdown,
the doctors, the nurses, the stars,
your scars, your little brother
who told you he hoped your sad
would go away, yourself
2. fall in love with someone
who doesn’t understand you.
write poems about his eyes being
a lighthouse, and his hands
being sirens. tell him he is
your happiness, he makes you
better. tell him his scars are
beautiful, he is so breathtakingly
beautiful that it’s reasonable
you should cry; love him
infinitely, love him like they say
you need to love yourself
3. eat away emotions
you didn’t realize you had. eat
when you’re sad, eat when
you’re bored, eat when he forgets
to call. eat when you think
you’re the only person alive
in a dead universe, eat when
you don’t remember when you
were last happy; pretend
the emptiness is
zeroi sworezero in Free Verse More Like This
i would never number the poems
i wrote about myself because that
would be like ticking off the days
until my breakdown;
i was a moth, unapologetically throwing myself
at any gleam of hope; wasting my wings
on industrial promises
colors always felt much more
appropriate for the purple boiling
beneath my heart and the pallid
purposelessness of my head,
but i was born into a colorless world--
no one sees me behind the metallic scars
of my skin and iron grating of my voice against
the grain; no one sees me as more than
gray regret or monochrome mistakes,
no one sees me but
all i ever wanted was for a
fallen god with feathered heels
to believe in me: to pray upon
the monuments i built for
broken dreams and to baptize me
in his tainted tears,
i just want him to be real. more
than anything, i want to be real, i want
to be more than an imaginary friend
to various mental limitations; i want
to trade my liquid skin [evaporating]
for a chance to be
i am a moth and you are the lighthouse
to the girl with hungry footstepsI'm sending all my words backto the girl with hungry footsteps in Free Verse More Like This
to the people who need them--
people who wear scars like
war trophies, like jewelry, like
an identification for those suffering
from the same acceptance of
self-hate. this is to the people
who sleep with one eye open, who
cry when footsteps enter their room
at night; this is to the girls
who love by cutting their hearts
into snowflakes and watching
them melt. I left you behind and
I can't be sorry for that.
you are the type of beautiful
that kindly asks the world
to fuck off. the days we buried
have decomposed, headstones are
snapshots; sanitized breakdowns,
rusty tongues, sighs laced
with fear, I love you, I love
you. saturdays were the best
because we could sleep through
the nightmare. you painted me a
picture of the world with your words
and they made us wash it away
for being transparent.
we were afraid of nothing
but the monsters in our eyelids.
back then, we counted days
like shooting stars; it took 67
to wish myself away. this
is for you, skygazer;