like the fingers on my left hand
I had five of them
spare the five on my right
it would be the same
like the thumb, he's quite far from the others
I look up to him
because his music gives him wings
I thought he was the one
like the forefinger, he always points ahead
I look forward to him
because his skills rob him away
I thought he was the one
like the middlefinger,
The PromiseThe Promise in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
i never saw a man
cry before me...
i'll listen to you,
i'll go to sleep now
we can meet
in a dream
in the heavens
just for us
in the paradise
False Hope, Then Hope Falls...False Hope, Then Hope Falls... in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
like when an eye winks
the heart sinks
like million thorns,
of ifs and whys
of doubts and crys
that boils the blood
that brings such grudge
would end in misery?
pulled by gravity
wish as if dead
deep down the grave
that's how hope falls
when hopes are all false
I Am Your Nude PaintingI Am Your Nude Painting in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
during your permoblack nights
when color-blindness embraces your heart
and your permogray emotions
control your left-hand brush strokes
as your permowhite stares
melt down the wooden easel
leaving just the bare shadow
of my candid nakedness
as my ebony crown flows
smoothly as the sea waves in the morning
and as my sapphire eyes glow
brightly as the nights in Vegas
with my moist lips driving
a sensual winding road
my temple sways with the melody
of the gush of your artsy blood
and I stand on the tips of my toes
as I raise my arms to fly
I feel feathery, I want to be blown up
but I can't help but sense
that my toes and my hands are nailed
to the pores of your canvas
I am framed and hung
in the museum of your name
you are a god, you are worshiped
I am in love, I am jealous
with my GEMINI
that one who posed behind the easel
as you nailed my toes and my hands
to the pores of your dead canvas.
The DatelessThe Dateless in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
The tip of the crescent dagger above
seems to point straight to my eyes
it's bloody rusts shower
and everything they touch is wounded
The giant cedars are on guard
each exhales some sulfurous fume
PangungulilaPangungulila in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
lulan ng aircon bus
nakasandal sa kutson
ngunit ramdam ang latay sa katawan
pero bingi ang pakiramdam
nagtitext sa cellphone
ngunit bagot din naman
dumungaw sa bintana
kinuha ang digicam
iniumang sa target subject
subalit nanamlay lang
bakit kahit ano gawin...
nanunuot sa kalamnan
bakit kahit ano isipin...
puso ay sinusutsutan
early na pumapasok sa work
nago-OT pa para maging busy lang
lahat ng nagpapaalala sa kanya
ngunit sadyang nagsusumiksik
March 12March 12 in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
di ko naramdaman
na bertdey mo
di ko naunawaan
wala akong alam
kaya wala akong karapatan
na turuan ka
di ko napansin
naisip ko lang
ng umalis ka.
pwede ba magpaliwanag?
malungkot din ako
'andyan ka kasi
at 'andito ako
kaya lingid lahat
'gang 'kala na lang
pero ang totoo
pareho lang tayo
nawawalan ng direksyon
pareho lang tayo
may luhang tinatago.
Death Of An EmoDeath Of An Emo in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
my bedroom is my coffin
sprayed with sweet formalin
I lay still with my bloodshot eyes open
as my chaotic mind is wondrin'
I think I need some nicotine
to kiss the smoke as it spells your name
I think I need some wine or caffeine
to taste your heat when we're fuckin'
I think I need some cocaine
to get away from all burden
I think I have to lick that bloodstain
The DateThe Date in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
All I see are but shadows
of the lurking ebony night
but I hear the leaves,
they talk to each other
and I smell the buds of May,
their fragrance reach the clouds
till the hiding blue moon
it's eye flashes a shimmer
against a blood red rose
which sweats with passion
and glow with love
I boil with obsession
to cut the lone stem
and hide it in my back pocket
Wet DreamsWet Dreams in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
as if you never made me cry
I stared at your lips
I remembered how our teeth clanked
the first time we kissed
I heard myself giggle.
then you spoke
as if we're in good terms
I felt your warm breathe
I remembered how you dirty-talked
while you tickled my ear
I felt stiff
while you embrace me
as if you never hurt me
I sensed the longing on your skin
I remembered that day
we lost ourselves
I miss you baby...
I felt so cold inside
I was awaken
I peeped out of the window,
I felt colder,
then I realized
I am crying...
just like all the nights
I hear myself say
"I MISS YOU BABY"
that I can't help but wish
to have even just a dream of you...
Love OverdosageLove Overdosage in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
You gave me everything
so that I'll learn to return them back to you
I received nothing
You made me a possession
so that I'll know to whom I belong
until you forgot that I am also mine
You studied what I really am
and you realized I am not like you
so that you needed to mold me into your likeness
You loved me too much
until we both drowned
as we lost ourselves
because now what you see in you is me
and you started to think that you are me
so that you won't understand
because you spent all your time
trying to make me understand you
until you forgot that you should have understood yourself first
still I know, you won't listen to me
because you spent all your time
trying to make me listen to you
until you forgot that you should have listened to yourself first
now you say that I don't love you
because you think that you already lost me
but you never thought that what's left in you is me
because you long lost yourself
and it kills me...you just don't understand
why of all people, it is you w
seven things to do.i. they say that there areseven things to do. in Free Verse More Like This
seven natural wonders
in the world. well,
i think theyve got it
all wrong. i think
the seventh one is
a place called
and i need to find it.
ii. i can name all of my
weaknesses. they are
ugly and obvious and
i am aware
of all of them.
now, i need
iii. people have given me
'unconditional love and
unbreakable promises but
they took away both.
so im sorry
if im just a bit
i have reasons.
and id like it if someone
made me forget
every last one of them.
iv. seven is supposed to be
the luckiest number, right?
and it stands for
note to self:
figure out why
seven hates me so much.
v. i need to hear
again. i need
to know that you
were not only
in my imagination.
i need to know
that you are
(and i want to ask
you if you still feel
when we talk.)
vi. i still have
and phone number
black holes and maps.i will pretendblack holes and maps. in Free Verse More Like This
i do not fall asleep
thinking of you
if you pretend
not to know.
i wish i knew
how to tell you
exactly how i feel about
you're a black hole
and you pull me in
and all i can do
is try not to lose myself
please do not confuse
for him with
we are not a
rollercoaster, so please
stop saying this relationship
[haven't you heard that
rollercoasters have ups
as well as
x marks the spot,
this is a map,
and if you follow it
you'll find my heart.
you don't really care
enough to look.]
already gone.mommy used to put me to sleep with horror stories.already gone. in General Fiction More Like This
'boys don't have hearts,' she'd say, shaking her finger in my face. 'if something doesn't have a heart, it can't fall in love with you. remember that,
remember that before you fall in love with one.'
and i don't know what scares me more -
the memories of her horror stories, or the fact that this boy has a heart.
'you'll feel better tomorrow morning,' she tells me. 'i promise.'
lights are swirling in the background, forming shapes. there's a heart made of an icy blue, i notice, and raindrops made of black. 'what am i supposed to feel bad about in the first place?' i ask after a moment.
'you'll see,' she tells me, sadness on her tongue. she turns to leave, dress swirling in the dim lights.
'wait!' i call out, and she turns around. 'who are you?'
'someone you'll know, someday,' she says cryptically.
there's a beating growing in the background now, getting faster as time passes. it reminds me of a time bomb. five minutes
last night.last night the electricity went out in my neighborhood.last night. in General Fiction More Like This
last night i lit some candles and burnt my fingers in the process. i watched the flames flicker in the dark and i stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondered why it looked different, somehow.
last night i remembered how sometimes, when i touch people, i shock them with static electricity. and i wondered if this has any significance.
last night i reread your letters and counted them. nine. there used to be ten, but i threw one away when we had that fight, remember? and i spent the next day looking unsuccessfully in the trash for it and wishing i could control my temper.
last night i wrote 'i wish you were here' on a piece of paper, but i'm not sure who the you was. maybe it was everyone.
last night i cleaned my room just to mess it up again, mostly because i like messing things up. maybe this is some strange revenge on the world for messing me up. i'm not sure.
last night i tried to write but it only ended up
our breakup sounded like...our breakup sounded like people screamingour breakup sounded like... in Free Verse More Like This
fuck! yelled into ears that just werent
listening; glass breaking like
hearts. throwing rocks against the
wall. falling. breaking bones. the crickets were
silent; i think they were
sorry for us. our breakup sounded like
doors slamming and people
leaving without saying goodbye or
even looking back.
but she loved you.she is the girlbut she loved you. in Free Verse More Like This
that doesnt want you to fall in love
with her. the one that
wears dirty red ribbons in her hair
because she feels like she
deserves the dirty feeling.
she is the one that
will not wait for you
even if you waited forever for her.
she doesnt think she deserves you.
and this is going to break her,
slowly, and shes going to bite
her tongue and bleed because
shes sorry she ever wasted your time.
did you know?did you know:did you know? in Free Verse More Like This
we were perfect?
like the movies, the
overly romantic ones,
the sickly romantic ones,
the ones that you get
dragged into, the ones that
you fall in love with.
like the rain. falling things have
this odd kind of beauty;
this odd kind of
the thunder crashes, and suddenly,
the romantic couple is crying,
and the ending isnt happy
anymore, and the only thing
on your mind is that
this was not supposed to happen.
living in the dark.one.living in the dark. in Free Verse More Like This
you are only
a phone call away,
but somehow, this
is much too far.
when you are gone:
i write 'i miss you' on
my wrists. i name
my pet fish after you and
scribble gibberish on the walls.
the letters always spell out
only reminds me
i hope you understand when i say:
i miss what you used to mean to me
more than i miss you.
the spaces between words
or separate puzzle pieces
or the clouds in the
that's all we are
crashing.'think of yourself as a breath of air,' he tells me. 'compared to the overall atmosphere, you are tiny. insignificant.'crashing. in General Fiction More Like This
'but someone out there is breathing you in,' he continues. 'they're living off of you. you are the oxygen in their lungs, running through their veins and keeping them alive.'
i think that i'd be the polluted kind of air. the kind nobody wants. the kind that ends up killing people.
but i keep these thoughts inside.
'if i fell, would you catch me?' i ask, your fingers cold in mine.
'the crash is never as bad as they make it sound,' he says cryptically.
i take this to mean no.
'what do i remind you of?' you ask.
i have no answer.
but one day, i will find it.
and i'll write you a letter, because we both know you'll be long gone by then.
you remind me of dreams.
sometimes, i'll wake up from them happy. sometimes, i'll be afraid and crying.
sometimes, i'll just wake up empty.
but in the end -
i never can hang onto them.
balance beams.one.balance beams. in Free Verse More Like This
it is three a.m.
and even the crickets are
sleeping. the only sounds
are the commercials on t.v.
and the soft noise of my
it is three a.m.
and my night light is broken
and it is too dark, too
quiet, and there is a monster
in my heart and
he won't go away.
just so you know:
i named the monster
i dreamed that we were
in a cave, black and blue. there was
a bottomless lake full of hope
and unwanted memories, and
running, screaming, searching
for an exit
only to find
that there wasn't one.
i spend my life on balance beams,
i can only try
not to fall off.
loneliness steals my oxygen,
and i'm left
but you put your hand in mine,
and there is warmth in the shadows,
and suddenly, hope is not too far
and you say
it'll be alright
and i think that maybe
In Glass HousesI want to twist myself to suit the dayIn Glass Houses in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Tomorrow's flavor tastes of change
I'd make myself this pretty thing
If it suited what I was currently loving
I want hair that's made of straw and grass
I want blacker eyes and skin of glass
I want punched-in holes that come for free
I want to claw and bite at hypocrisy
Black's the new black and black's the new white
Cinnamon words make wrong the new right
I want to be the one who you want but the one you can't have
Out of mind, out of body, I want to be out of sight
I want to butter up this callous mind
I want to be ten-of-a-kind
And I'd gladly join this house of yours
If I could leave my stones behind
AnesthesiaWe're made to healAnesthesia in Other More Like This
More so than we're made to break
But some of my organs heal slower than others
I can't stand what you've done to make yourself better
I'm stuck with old bandages and antiseptic
While you fix yourself with donated skin grafts
I want you to bleed out
I hate your morphine
I want you to feel pain
I smell anesthesia
As soon as your skin started to peel
You called up some old donor
So he'd give you his kidney and a part of his lungs
I watched you get better
I hate that you're better
I think I'm doing better too
But not in the same way as you
Some part of me's loving your donor
He was a drinker, a gambler, and a heavy smoker
Now you're losing your lungs and your loaned out kidney
Now you have to heal like I did
Or maybe you won't heal at all
I want you to fail
I'm happy you're falling
I want him to be the death of you
Friday Night Lights.She traces her fingers around the palm of his hand and he says something she can't hear. She wants to paint his nails a dark color or follow his veins down to the place where the drum inside him beats like a giant behind a cage. And where they sit, the Friday night lights make his hair look dark, and they make shadows beneath his chin. His clavicle. He smells like cinnamon. Insecurity.Friday Night Lights. in General Non-Fiction More Like This
He leans his chin on her head and she can feel his lips in her hair. I love you. The heels of their feet bounce off the concrete ledge. His sweatshirt is too big for her.
She touches his jaw with her fingers and she can feel those tiny hairs, the smoothness of skin. He tastes cold and she likes it. Through his shirt and skin she can hear that he's alive. Pulsing. He's warm. I'm finally not alone.
His fingers touch hers and he traces her patterns. Nails. Skin. Joints. Chest to shoulder. Leg over leg. Heads filled with clouds of afternoon rain. They fit like folded fingers and they'd sleep bu
againTomorrow I will find unhappinessagain in Other More Like This
in sharp corners with spiderwebs and old shadows
I will wake to realize that I feel no love
for anyone but me
And if I'm lucky I will breathe sunlight
and taste green grass that looks like plastic
and I will feel no pain
QuiverI could make it to the top too if I kissed the ass of everyone above meQuiver in Other More Like This
But that's a lot of ass to kiss
And I'm more partial to the lips
So I'll continue eating dirt with my dignity
jigsaw.i'm not sojigsaw. in Other More Like This
every time you make me smile
an abortion clinic
or something else just as
because i think you're the most
piece of work i've had the pleasure
of experiencing while
you're putting yourself back together
take the last
lopsided square of your puzzle
and hide it underneath the cushions
just so you would never be finished
or anything relatively
just so i would know why
and just because i could
and just because i find you
so much more
when you're not quite
you closed off in glass jars
underneath my arm
so i can walk you
show you off
to any girl that comes along
Last SeptemberIf I could see you again I'd stick my fingers into your navelLast September in Other More Like This
to feel if your core was soft
or if you even had anything there at all
I'd hold your lungs in the center of my hands
to see if they were black purple blue
from all that cancer
I couldn't make you spit out
I want to see you again
To tell you,
"I hate your hair like that"
"I hate that you left me"
"I hate what you've become"
Then I'd take it back
and say something nice
You'd still borrow my perfume,
because from the ends of your hair to the tips of your shoes you smell like tobacco
and you don't want your mom to know that you've been killing yourself
You don't mind that I know
I won't scold you
I feel like you have no power in your life
And it's not my place to say, but,
I feel like you've tangled your talent into spider webs
and thrown them away
I feel like you've bitten off your nose
to spite your face
and I wish it wasn't true but
you deserve it
you deserve everything you get
If I could go back
The People We HateThe people who hurt us, do they feel like we do?The People We Hate in Other More Like This
Do they feel ugly and worthless in their skin like we do?
When they ache are their thoughts a bruised purple-blue
or are their brains always full of those rainbow-esque hues?
Do they suffer with the things that we're going through?
Or are they always indifferent to the sanity unglued?
Those people we hate, can we feel their pain?
Do we know of their nail-biting sorrow and shame?
Are we driven to cruelty by cruelty they gave?
Or is rage bred within, in its own iron cage?
And why do we hate?- Because we're not the same?
Or simply because they're unwilling to change?
A Writer's Manifesto.I am your neighborhood whore of self-assurance. I am your lock-lipped student. I am every angst-ridden teenager, every heart-aching mother, every boy with a bass guitar. And I am a writer.A Writer's Manifesto. in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I know the strength of the pen and the impact of digital words. Ill tell you of abandonment that Ive never suffered, of love never lost, and touch Ive never felt. I know the sensation of inspiration struck at midnight, of swallowing native ideas, of embracing a language of words never spoken. Im every sick child you picked on, every boy you cheated on, every adolescent brave enough to pick up a pen, every person who had the guts enough to make a difference on paper. Im what you wish you were in a place you want. Im alive in the red glow of lamplight, I breathe in the scratched ideas on a diarys blank pages. I know the envy of talent surpassed and the anger of muse lost and I use everything you toss to the garbage as my ink.
Im every song you hate
Make Me FeelAnd there are times that I love youMake Me Feel in Free Verse More Like This
(( So much ))
That it's not even
It becomes a c.r.e.a.t.u.r.e.
That lives in my insides
Up my throat
out into the world
With fingers like branches
And it feels
All the things I
safety or lack thereof.someone tell me which is worse: that you left me,safety or lack thereof. in Free Verse More Like This
that I drank too much,
that I almost slept with him so that your hands
werent the last ones to touch me,
or that in the years we were together, you never
held me as tightly as he did that night.
what's left when...i.what's left when... in Free Verse More Like This
it ends without a single shot, all our weapons long retired
and bitter words saved for later. we're in bed together
for the last time with nothing left to fight and nothing
left to fight for, nothing left to do but love
each other quietly for just a minute longer.
our hearts are one of many things we lost along the way.
it ends quietly, the latch on the door catching
like it always does and you slipping on the hardwood
floor with your shoes in hand. that was me
spilt sloppily on the floor, love leaking out of the
wounds in my chest where you reach into
and took what was left of me.
it's graphic, love. it's hot and it's sweaty and it's graphic and
it's cold and it's lonely and it's graphic and it's
bloody in the end when you're dying of it.
it ends the way it's supposed to,
I guess, with you letting yourself out
after one last kiss. no,
there's nothing unfamiliar here but a whole lot unrequited.
it started with a fanfare and
ends with a whisper, like these things do.
even the things you never...I was flinging dishes against the wall and praying toeven the things you never... in Free Verse More Like This
God, no, I was smashing whats left of my heart along
with the fine china, no, I was thinking mostly
of your forehead damp with sweat and how it glued your
eyelashes to mine back when
you were willing to get close enough, and how
I dont miss it.
I was flinging dishes against the wall last night and working
on my lies.
I was flinging dishes against the wall last night and thinking
about carving into your skin with the pieces. Mostly, I was
screaming I want my everything back, you asshole,
I want my everything back.
When I rewrite the bible...I thinkWhen I rewrite the bible... in Free Verse More Like This
everyone needs to be in love; I think
everyone needs someone to tell them they're amazing.
(Because sometimes, we forget that
we perform miracles
in the way we look at one another.)
(And really, I think we're all saints that way. And love
should be a religion; not the love of God, but the love of sunsets
and long eyelashes
and air guitar
and spy movies
and secret ticklish spots
and flavoured coffee. And then,
we could be pious in our kisses, and we would all believe in heaven.)
better ways to leave.i.better ways to leave. in Free Verse More Like This
quietly. out the back door at night like my heart
is a stolen good, like you were doing clever things
when you snuck your fingers between
my second and third rib while I slept and I
pretended that I didn't see you, and I
pretended there wasn't fingertip proof on
the inner cavity of my body. god
I wish I was better at lying to myself. god
I wish we were better at lying to each other.
god, I wish we were worse.
I wish I could possess you like the ghost of the man
you used to be, laugh at you at night right
in your good ear and ask you which choices you'd stand by
and which one was haunting you. ask you to name me,
tell you to name me,
drag my name from your lungs like a dying breath like I dragged
myself from your body when you were leaving and I
was barely leaving alive.
but then we never survive this, do we.
I have dreamed of better things than this. I have dreamed
of better men than you, the ones that leave me
gracefully the ones that leave me full of blazing pa
atrophyi.atrophy in Free Verse More Like This
i write is about you,
even when i excavate
the deepest mines of memory
i know this love is an act
of remembrance, that every
other thought i have had was
no longer now.
i want to be a hunter
again. i want to be lord
of my sky like the tern owns
her dimension even as her tears
water my face, because i
have already used up
all my weeping;
there is no salt left in me.
this evolution of feeling
is not something i understand.
i am a child growing away
from motherly arms and
this sea is too wide to fit
into my eye
but you are the younger and
i am not yours because you
are too raw to lie into my
this bed where there is no rest.
if you could read my blood
and fathom my flesh perhaps
you would see how you have
withered every tendril you
insinuated into my insides
innocuous as morning sun.
this skin does not know
your sight. this world
does not know your colour
kissing your eyelidsi.kissing your eyelids in Biography & Memoir More Like This
i cannot tell you.
i am afraid to open my mouth because i know the aperture is tempting, and i do not want you to see the raw that has spread from my heart to the back of my throat.
i am afraid to speak because the slightest movement will give me to you, and i cannot trust that i am ready for the plunge. your hands are inching me closer by the day and i am trying to read the fortune of your open palms but they tell me nothing about how to fall. they dont even tell me your story but somehow they still manage to be the most beautiful thing in the world.
i am standing on the verge. i have noticed that you give yourself better when i am not looking, so i unlock our gaze with the key of my patience and look away when you speak of the things your heart skips over.
anything to make you feel safer.
there is sleep in your voice when your baritone carries over miles of wire and i am amazed it does not crackle with the electricity
no wet to wash withwe are closestno wet to wash with in Free Verse More Like This
when we are sleeping
when spoken hides
cannot slide before stolen hearts
and broken tides
for the moon is mute,
no silent cadence to carry
the colder water;
all is still.
wordless conversations...wordless conversations in the darkwordless conversations... in Free Verse More Like This
this is where we fall,
numb to every-
thing but us;
the only place
where the world
i've still got you
to keep me warm,
and all the while
the city crawls
we are not.
the world's weight rests
upon the fall of your lashes
on my cheek, and
to hate us;
they cannot seep
into our sleep.
our veins do not crawl
with objection, and when
the head-board bangs
against the wall like
the sound spills
we are everything
they are not; and
for now, that is enough
light to lift this starless night.
radar lovedear you,radar love in Free Verse More Like This
i like you so much i want you
to snake your arm down my
throat and tug me inside out;
bend down your head to my black
eastern seagull and kiss it, find
my liver and apologise. i want you
to pluck the old snowflakes from
my stomach and watch them spill
across the pub floor.
your hands can live in my jeans
if you want. you can bite down
on my fingers.
life's for the brave, for the people
who aren't afraid to say FUCK and
drink bad beer. so i'm gonna get on
this bus! i'm gonna shave my head!
i'm gonna drink this tequila sunrise
and crane my head to the moon
like its your face in the morning.
it doesn't matter how many secrets
and sad things you put inside a
person; they'll get drunk and throw
it up anyway.
nine1.nine in Free Verse More Like This
be their happy childhood, dipped
in coloured glass and wound around
the stairwells. be a boat with sails
and a tire swing. be butterfly nets.
be monarchs and lilacs in the summertime be
summer itself. be desperation and
a snare drum, old Beatles songs winding up
from the floor below, your yellow hair something
from a storybook.
put your hand inside their
head and lead them out the back
door and through the trees.
show them the spot where
you took an axe to the silver eye
of God's skull and boxed up his
body parts like damp children's clothes.
tell them the truth; that you ate
his bones and kept his soul in
a beer keg. tell them how he didn't
mind, how he was happy to give up
and get drunk instead.
gas them in the shower.
paint their mouth as red
as their memories. paint
them like old blue blankets
piled up on the side of the
road. paint them orange
and covered in blood. paint
them like a small nervous
bird, on fire.
paint yourself yellow and
don't stop running.
lovesongi hate the way that everything about us is so brokenlovesong in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and useless, the way we are dolls with no eyes, purple weeds,
wet fireworks that never go off. i hate the way that you lean
in doorways and make eggs, the way that you are always
cooking for somebody else and never just yourself. i hate the
way we can't remember what laughter feels like any more, how
all we have is pulling at hair and black cat scratches. i hate how
well you know my body. (i hate you.) i hate how you fuck me like
nails scrabbling at hard cement, like knuckles weeping into my
mattress and the way you leave after. and i hate the way we
never even tried to love each other, just break everything, gall and
resentment and dead hair, boredom and our fast train breathing.
after you diedi.after you died in Free Verse More Like This
they asked me if there was something
of yours that I wanted to keep
to keep your eyelashes, your breath,
I said this, and they looked
sad, said they meant did I want your
clothes and possessions, your things
I didn't know what I wanted
cradling my head with my arms and
quietly saying no over and over
dry with the taste of morning sickness
and old seawater
a month later, I wanted all your clothes
I was scrub-faced and tired
of the walls hurt my eyes, buried in wet
towels, sleeping naked on the floor every
I fucked somebody else
after the funeral
"somebody else" sounds wrong now
as if you are still alive, kissing
my shoulder in the morning
I'd taken cocaine
and it made a sound in my ears like a hummingbird
like someone banging on a door or just that tiny high pitched scream
that someone starts to make when they have grown tired of crying
your mother was fixing my hair in the kitchen
a bobby pin tucked
a working titlehe kisses my moutha working title in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
and my skin is in floods of
morning dew and tears
it is not enoughit is not enough just toit is not enough in Free Verse More Like This
miss you. i have to learn
how to walk again; how to
live without meat and
kissing, how to sleep
shaped like a balled up
fist. it is not enough
just to miss you. i have
to adopt twins in
Africa, name them Lost
and Weird, forget to
feed them. i have to
go to every pet store
in America and rescue
all the seahorses. i have
to tattoo D A R K B I R D
inside my lip and stand
in children's playgrounds
like a broken arm, creaking. it
is not enough just to miss
you. it has to hurt. i
have to write poems
that last forever, interpret
dreams about buildings
burning down, flies who
leave their partners for
sad New York waitresses. i
have to work on my
posture. shave my head, wear
white dresses. i have to
be a chaffinch when i curse
into my fingers. it is not
enough to just miss you. i
have to be a crazy
crocus-woman; my lovely
hand curled close around
your heart, a bud sealed
tightly, tightly, tightly...
i will not admit i miss youi.i will not admit i miss you in Free Verse More Like This
he is sick of seeing her back
arched against his eyelids
just like he grows tired of missing
unfamiliar ridged taste buds on the inside of his cheek
he sat in the middle of a baseball diamond
and watched millions-of-light-years-away carats
erupt in the night sky, wondering if she was
watching them reflected in someone elses eyes
there was a place somewhere that
he remembered being theirs that
was beyond the corners of a blanket
and he missed not being there alone
he wonders what is written on the
margins of her life and if they are filled
with scribbles of his name like the
margins of his notes are scattered with hers
she picked up an eraser and
held it to his story to remove
her name so he would stop
wondering if she felt the same
theme twenty.three-distastefuli.theme twenty.three-distasteful in Free Verse More Like This
i am incorrect and offensive and i use
every lords name in vain; i chew with
my mouth wide open so you will see who
i am beneath these skin and bone covers
my tongue is stained silver not with eloquent
words that will tear down your clothes with
a kiss on the shoulder; it is stained with every
vulgarity that slips from my esophagus
i wear anything that compliments my scars
so that they stand from my skin like scarlet
goosebumps; i enjoy the look of horror when
you mistake them for fresh and full of life
i partake in every sin of the flesh just to see
you gag the putrid taste from the back of your
tongue; your angles and curves look prettiest
when your bones are making music with disgust
when i was young i fell from a tree and scraped
my knees; when my mother kissed them better
and never came back i ate snails with gusto and
snipped off the ends of puppy dog tails
theme five - roti.theme five - rot in Free Verse More Like This
he wasnt perfect, but he
was someone she could rely on
for a smile, for squeezing her fingers
for keeping her grounded and steady
his chin was not classically handsome
but her fingers knew the path from the
bridge of his nose to his collarbones
like theyd be walking it forever
at one point in time all she needed
was to close her eyes and pretend
she could hear his voice on her neck
back then, he was steadfast
something changed in the direction of
the wind; he couldnt meet her eyes and
the brilliance of his smile had died down
from incandescent stars to glow sticks
she sat in the grass with empty fingers
and wondered what happened to her
gentleman; the sweet taste of his fruit lips
faded when he spoiled and spiraled out of love
quintessentialOnce upon a time there was a beautiful princessquintessential in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
She had skin woven from the fibers of shooting stars and lips that tasted like iambic pentameter sonnets in the summer. She shone and sparkled in a way so dazzling that sometimes his fingertips went numb if they dragged along her flawless arms for only a moment; when he crept close to embrace her the scent of the bit of skin behind her ear filled his head so perfectly that he thought he was falling through space The best part by far was when their eyes met, and his heart thundered and lightninged and he thought he could die happy at that moment.
who was loved by a prince
And sometimes she would catch him looking at her and she would wonder why he was so still. He did not move an inch except to breathe and open his mouth to tease her. She could see from the corner of her peripheral vision the way that his irises caressed the vastness of her curves, the way his palms itched to cup her cheek, and th
hearts and whalesShe liked goldfish.hearts and whales in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She kept a comet goldfish in a glass bowl on her nightstand, a big ugly thing that swam in lopsided circles and opened and closed its mouth as if it were gasping for air all the time. She got her first goldfish when she was six and went to the carnival two miles down from her house, a big one that served funnel cake and cotton candy and had all these cheap carnival games for fifty cents. She was playing this game where you throw the ring onto the glass milk bottle and it always bounces off. She bought five rings and they all bounced off and she kept buying them until one landed and she finally won and the guy behind the counter gave her a goldfish, and told her that it would've been cheaper to buy one. She wanted to play again and win him a friend, but the guy told her to keep her money and go buy a glass bowl. It was probably cheaper.
This is back when she was in first grade and her favorite movie was Pinocchio, when she dreamed about wooden boys and carnivals and
prompt six - abandonedI told you that youd like Mexico because it had blue blue skies and sand so white your marble skin looked like it was coated in shadows. I whispered into the hollows of your collarbones and earlobes how the sun was so warm you would never need to cover yourself in cocoon layer blankets, and the clouds were so tall you could climb to the top and brush your fingers against the stars. You smiled and my heart fluttered and my tongue wove you tales of water so clear you could see to the bottom of every intention and word youve heard, and air so sweet youd come to think chocolate was bitter and bland.prompt six - abandoned in Short Stories More Like This
Your eyes fluttered closed to the ocean roar, and you asked me to tell you more.
We will sleep in beds that always smell like morning dew and fresh-squeezed lime, our limbs soft and warmer than the sun-tired beaches. We will wake up before the sunrise and watch shadows bend and dance across the ceiling as the rays stretch their tired joints and I kiss your sleep-stained
saudadeLast week, you showed up with the thunder on my doorstep.saudade in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Your voice was so drenched with the rain that I almost didn't recognize the way you said my name. It hung in the air like an incomplete sentence, like something unfamiliar, like you were so lost from trying to find everything we left behind and piece it back together that you couldn't find me in your heart anymore. It was pouring and the power was out and I was so tired of watching the world fall apart from outside my windows that I let you back inside my arms and inside my senses, and your bones were shaking as you clung to me and told me how good it felt to come back home.
There was something forced in our actions, as if we were going through the motions of something we had practiced a hundred times before. Your lips were all orchestrated movements against mine and the arch of your back and shudder of your breath felt rehearsed, so that when you lay tangled and spent in my bedsheets I let my mouth wander the terrain of your sh
these roads we travelYou could've been the girl who changed me.these roads we travel in Emotional More Like This
I've fallen down and fallen apart enough times that it gets hard to remember, but sometimes I study my scars in the sunlight and trace the patterns back through time. I spend my mornings living in memories, reliving the places I've scuffed myself, and I've found that romance is better in hindsight. Her kisses are sweeter tinged with nostalgia, and it almost feels like I'm whole again when I'm thinking of the dents she put in my pulse and smoothing out the wrinkles she left in my resolve. For a moment, there's equilibrium, but then the sun is setting and I'm disoriented, dropping fragments of myself between cracks in the sidewalk I'm following down the street and towards an independent sunset. I'm standing on the corner and waiting for the light to turn, and you show up with a wayward smile cradled in your fingers. You press it into my grasp and I'm thinking maybe I've spent too much time looking at my flaws instead of my potential.
You could h
immutablei.immutable in Free Verse More Like This
and you told me that youre afraid of falling
apart and losing your teeth; i promise you
well keep this heart beating if i have to use
all the bandaids and bits of tape in the world
the taste of your breath shows that youre hesitant
to knock down your walls because someone has
breached them before and left footprints that you
cant wash away; lets burn them away with carnal fires
but your palms are cautioned and petrified of
growing old if they are lonely; rome wasnt
built in a day but i am sure someone will lend
you their fingertips to help restore its glory
you have traveled dusty sidewalks and sprawling
campuses that are never out of reach of breadcrumbs;
your voice claims you want to lose yourself on the
map but between the lines you want to find home
souls say and wishes command and your heart
insists that you take a leap of faith; you ask me
what happens in case you fall flat and i tell you
ill always fly to you with my b
theme twenty.four - wanti.theme twenty.four - want in Free Verse More Like This
this is not so much about what my
heart wishes for late at night when
eyelids are closed; this is about
everything that is keeping its beats alive
i have words that singe the edges of
my tongue and make my heart burn
when i hold them back; i despise
covering them with bland mint flavors
my hands want to reach for the loops
and whorls of your fingerprints; i
keep them in my pockets so that it
is easier to resist all temptations
i catch myself forgetting to listen to
your individual words; i concentrate
on iambic-pentameter lines and realize
your syntax has the sweetest rhythm
maybe if i kissed your lips all your ethos,
pathos, logos would brush across my face
and my held-back words would probe your
mouth with my tongue and let my heart rest
soapstone heart.1.soapstone heart. in Free Verse More Like This
we were on and off, just like rain and light switches, and i thought maybe we had the same amount of electricity. i sometimes thought of telling you 'no', but my kisses said 'yes', and my heart just wouldn't learn how to shut down.
it pissed me off.
i pretended i didn't know your name and asked you to whisper it in my ear, just to be the only one to hear your voice. i'm selfish, but i think you already know that.
(if i could make a lasso made of gravity, i'd pull the stars down and take them. i promise i'd share with you.)
you gave me a necklace that you carved from soap stone, and i couldn't tell if it was an arrowhead or a heart.
i decided it was a heart, and wondered if yours was made of the same thing.
"you are my everything," you whispered. i really thought i believed you. no wait, i actually did.
i remember finding scraps of paper in my desk with little poems on them, all signed by you. but it wasn't until later that i found out you had google'd them. it wasn't until
if you loved mei would call out your nameif you loved me in Free Verse More Like This
instead of just watching you walk away like i always do
then i would walk to you
the rain would slow
and every drop would shatter into a million, beautiful pieces
(forgetting for a moment
that your heart isn't there right now)
i would reach out to touch your face
instead of wishing i could
and tell you
"i think. i love you."
you would be silent
and a rain drop would shatter on your cheek
my pale cheeks would suddenly match my red nose
and i would let go
turn, take a step, take another
if you loved me, you would grab my hand
and tell me "stop, wait."
but you don't love me
let go of my heart.
hearts are violent creatures.when he told me he was there for me, he wanted to be different. he wanted to be the one who dented my heart more than the rest did; he'd never admit it, but he wanted me to remember him forever.hearts are violent creatures. in Free Verse More Like This
he wanted to hurt me the most.
a scar covered heart (that beat with little effort and looked like it could collapse any moment) that would try to love a beautiful, shiny heart (that beat like music and flawless perfection) equals a new scar. a new chunk ripped off, a new heart string cut.
(hearts are violent creatures.)
i laughed and said, "its okay. i'll wear mine like constellations and silk."
he tried to heal them up, patch them up, stitch them up.
nothing worked, but it wasn't like i wanted my stars and pretty supernova's covered up.
he took quotes and words off the mouths of beauty and put them in his own, telling me things i've always wanted to hear but really always wanted to feel.
"make up doesn't suit you."
"yeah? but i want to look pretty."
"you're pretty enough."
but i liked to w
butterflies.- 1butterflies. in Free Verse More Like This
summer always reminded me of warm concrete, green apples, and air conditioned malls. it reminded me of how good your arm felt around me, and that i used to count the butterflies in my stomach.
(i woke up one morning, dream hazy and happy, and they appeared.
i blame you.)
snow fell from the sky the day my heart turned into ice. i hated winter; i hated the cold and the wonderland outside my window more than i hated that i still thought about you.
but just when snowflakes sprinkled over me twice, and i thought i had become cured,
the butterflies came back.
dial tones and sunsets fading into night
were the evidence of my attempts
to hear your voice -
to close my eyes and
pretend i wasn't about to break
holding on, holding on, never letting go
and that you were doing the same
but i never had the chance
that picture in my digital camera of us is still in there -
too bad it was stolen.
i wish :
i could depend on shooting stars to put my wishes on, witho
o1 : letter.i recognized your handwriting even better than i recognized my own. it started out straight, then ran down diagonally down the page, and no letter looked the same, but i loved it. it reminded me of playing football in the rain and snuggling on the couch on cold nights, watching movies we weren't really watching, and meeting under that ugly old tree in the park so we could sit and breathe together.o1 : letter. in Free Verse More Like This
it reminded me of when you looked up from your journal and poked my forehead with your pencil and said, "you're beautiful, you know that?"
you loved to write things. you loved to write on things. you would trace your finger in puddles, and read aloud what you were writing in the water. (i would even find little notes and random thoughts written in my books and on post-its.) you would dip your finger in red paint (that eerily reminded me of blood), and marked words on my ribcage, my arms, my spine.
you wrote about what you dreamt about last night, and what your favourite color was tha
come and drown with meMy back aches where she sits on it. She adjusts her legs, her bare thighs scraping against my hips, and her knees release a sickened crack. She tugs on her bathing suit with one hand and tangles the other inside my head, pressing down. She cups her fingers and holds my hair and keeps me there.come and drown with me in Biography & Memoir More Like This
The back of my throat stings of chlorine and her skin. I open and close my mouth, a guppy fish who does not understand the water. I can feel the bones of her hands, skinny, dinosaur hands, pummeling through into the uncomfortable red flesh at the back of my head. I can feel every aching, distorted bone inside my body. If I could, I would release myself of them, and let my bones lay in her dead yellow grass and bake in the sun while she sits on me, keeps my head down, and I am just a pile of red, irritable skin. Every time I open my mouth, I gulp, swallow, inhale. I try.
She moves herself up higher on my back, and my legs kick out, uselessly smacking themselves against the bottom of her inflatable
the other sondear james,the other son in Free Verse More Like This
your name means "hold the heel,"
among so many other things,
and i think i could list them:
your eyes are funny. during saw v i saw your pupils
and i thought, hazel. his eyes are definitely hazel.
and they aren't: they are green-gray, they are gray,
they are tinted with blue, they are stung with brown,
but mostly, they are a soft, indecisive green, and your
lids are permanently half-closed, lazy, and you continuously
look like you may be waking up from a dream, and i am
continuously wondering if i was in it
i can recite things about you.
all kinds of things. your middle name is
david. your cat is a gray tabby with bright, vibrant green eyes,
and she has been de-clawed, and her name
is samantha. your bed is on the floor. when we are on the
phone and you get a text, and you sigh and tell me
to hold, i close my eyes and listen to the sound of your telephonic
keyboard, tap-tap-tapping, and think maybe i could
fall asleep to the sound, but there'd
paper lanterns Apparently I did not give you my heart because I can still feel it swimming in its own shit, excreted from the little holes that have been drilled in with fingers that will not make it past my lungs, through the skin like valleys made of tough grass and weeds bogged down by dew when I'm wet from the shower and my spit is falling down my chin like makeshift rain because it's a lie, I made it a lie, lies are dams carefully constructed, stillbirths and miscarriages, bleeding through your throat and soaking out your gums and twirling little cocoons inside your mouth out of hair and twine and spit, spit spit spit, I would spit down your throat and make new babies down inside your stomach, shoving myself down and bringing out my claws and reaching out and holding onto your hearty tissue down in your cords and organs, and you would swallow and swallow and swallow and I would drown inside of you and I would flail and you would smell like bees and tearspaper lanterns in Free Verse More Like This
a moment of your time I am a writer because my mother says so.a moment of your time in Free Verse More Like This
I am a writer because I am teaching myself to look for my pothole blue eyes, fat stomach smile, and popped-bubblegum cheeks in mirrors, television screens, and reflective surfaces. I am a writer because one time I had an innocuous crush on my second cousin and I still cherish all of his two-line emails. I am a writer because I am the stereotypical, spoiled, overloved only child.
I am a writer because my grandfather, whose name is utter gibberish and the colors blue and red and green and radio talk shows and old black-and-white television sitcoms and whose beard is a medusa's pond of browned acid hair, tried to teach me to draw, croissants for eyes and big butterflies for chins. I am a writer because the entire time all I wanted to do was write poetry, turn a phrase,
In Love and DeathIn Love and Death in Free Verse More Like This
May you rest in peace
Dear, you who holds my heart
let your lips falter
into the cold ground
where I can muster
your last breath of air
speaking my name
fading into the black abyss
may your soul rest tonight.
So that I can hold you
once again, into the night
your body fresh,
your blood staled by the wind
beaten and battered,
decaying and shattered,
in time for your sal
Broken MelodyA broken melodyBroken Melody in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Holds a key
Deep within the chords
Of a rundown piano,
Where I used to play
A song of relief,
While browsing the pieces
Of my song book
Turning the pages,
Scribbling a note,
So I could bring back
That once played
The keys to my heart
With a resounding tone
As I recall every song
I have played
with my piano,
That I almost forgot
What it really means,
To be alive...
A broken melody.
Running Ahead of TimeGasping for breath I ran,Running Ahead of Time in Free Verse More Like This
ran as fast as I could
towards the future, a realm
Ive yet to explore,
full of surprises, belligerent will
that passes through my
eyes as I set my path
forward, into a brand new
tomorrow, a season yet
to be seen
by the naked eye, as I enter
into a time forgotten
by the passing days
Nostalgic MelancholyDo you remember,Nostalgic Melancholy in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
The time we had together?
As I stroll down memory lane,
Images of you starting to wane,
Diminishing in this aging photograph...
Do you remember,
The time we had together?
Days where we used to talk,
the halls where we once walked,
An end to a futile story
Do you remember,
The time we had together?
Days where we used to be friends,
In the seas of people where we blend,
Through the flow of lifes bent,
A time that has already passed
Do you remember,
The time we had together?
To a story I could never go back,
An experience where I once lacked,
As these emotions fade away
Though I seriously wanna know,
The essence of this storys flaw.
Will you ever remember,
The time we had together?
For I will keep it in my heart,
And it shall always be a part,
In the pages of this storys chapter,
Where there is no happily ever after.
Lady Love's SilhouetteLady Love was such a fine bride,Lady Love's Silhouette in Free Verse More Like This
A maiden which brings me such pride,
Griming with her dark aura in light
Of the wonders of love despite
The never-ending rambles about death,
A journey through my Lady Loves silhouette,
As blood drips down her robust fishnet
Which brings me nothing but remorse,
As I stared down beneath her corpse,
Resting. Floating in a serene dream,
Where I kissed her for what may seem
To be my final time...
Of showing her true loves affection,
As I lie in this awkward deception,
The morbidity of her lying corpse
Resting in this lifes course
Towards a brand new direction,
Where my Lady Loves silhouette
Will be buried, burning her velvet
Robe as her grave begets
The end of the road
As I reminisce the eerie shed of sweat,
Beneath my Lady Loves silhouette.
Images of a Broken HeartA pain lingers onImages of a Broken Heart in Free Verse More Like This
from the deepest scars, torn
apart. Where the night
a solemn fate,
a path to take,
as the wounds tally
its toll. Steadily
the heart yearns, pondering
on a dire solution
where love can be, mended
upon a dreadful tragedy
by the scars of a love, torn
on an emotional battlefield,
where a silhouette lingers on
the flesh, deep
into the scorns
of a broken heart.
As inevitable as the wounds
deliver the ashes, of a passion
foregone for a time,
where the memories enlighten
the grievance of a grief, stricken
by disdains of repair
as vulnerable as that
of a futile effort
where love once was
torn throughout several
the hollow chambers
of a broken heart.
Doorway to HeavenDoors.Doorway to Heaven in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Hundreds are laid down,
Building myself a frown,
There are several to choose,
Without anything to lose
Are laid down in front of me,
So clearly that I can see,
Where one would lead to another,
A lifespan where I could gather
Are haunting my every second,
From where my life began,
As I try to choose,
Which path I shall use
Influencing my every judgment,
From the time that I have spent,
Hindering the paths to glory,
In making my own story
Which path should I choose?
Where I dont have anything to lose,
As I turn the knob of destiny
And start up my own melody.
and so it begins.
Death, Do Us PartDeath, Do Us Part in Free Verse More Like This
Love entailing to grow
Beneath this candle scented
Grave dancing with the wind,
Revealing shades of the past
Meant to make this last.
An apparition startled my breath,
As I gasp for acceptance,
That touch should be forgotten!
When will this end?
She is dead!
Love. This is getting harder
The wounds impale my heart,
As I lost a part
Of my sanity,
Slowly dwindling from the start,
Till death do us part.
As I dwell in this room,
Where love once loomed,
Visions of her became apparent,
Shes still here.
Guarding. Making Love.
In these translucent sheets
Where hints of necrophilia
Bequeath the pillows of despair,
This could never be
When I was the one who left her
Dying beneath the shadows of despair
Where she laid and rested,
That shouldve been for eternity
This dreaded reality,
Forsaking loves fatality
As I lie in my bed, staring
Into the dark corners of
This room, where scents of roses
Roam the air, upon time
I saw a vis
To A Sweet DreamSweet dreams to a nightTo A Sweet Dream in Free Verse More Like This
so long ago, memories faded
into a blissful abyss,
jaded moments full
of momentary peace, alone
in the darkness
I hide beneath the stars,
bequeathing my scars
to a faint silhouette
lamenting through the night,
I hoped I prayed
liberation from desire
to hold you in my arms,
hearing your voice
fading into time,
along the barricades
of a dream long foregone,
the epitome of my soul
a threshold of my time.
Make You SmilePlease dont let meMake You Smile in Free Verse More Like This
in the cold dark
wishing, you were here
when Im scarred from
staring at you,
gradually walking away
to the other side
of this dwindling road
that I could still
make you stay, here
for a while.
So that I'll have
the chance to
see you smile
one last time.