s
literature

self evaluation

scheherazades's avatar
By scheherazades   |   Watch
20 10 396 (1 Today)
Published: April 4, 2015
i.
waiting for a sentence
to finish
diminish
an extra limb
stolen from you
a second skin
doled out to you
going spare for mattress stuffing
and you could still feel anything
if you wanted to.

ii.
i'll tuck
this wicked sound
under my pillow
and sleep on it --
in the morning i'll know
exactly what to do.
in the morning you'll know
which muscles to soothe.

iii.
many more terribles
will rise crest break
before i finish this breath
of seafoam wake:
i could be a millenium
lurking inside these parentheses
i could be your equilibrium
hidden within these shuttered cities
i could be a monster
i could be a requiem
i could be a cold star
doomed to swing this pendulum

iv.
i am verdandi
sat with twine
skuld in the dark
spinning new design
an ancient shrine
for me and mine
names knitted
for urdr's past plotline
undying me, myself, and i
then, and now, and
tomorrow's time
Recommended Literature
f
future and her intangible ideals (#7)
sighing for love, light and laughter, you are redolent like fragrant memories, and new books filled with old history. i recall your voice telling me that you hoped to outlive those red roses. you were always a perennial admirer with infinite ambition, but the last decision you made caused us to be only an annual occurrence. in relation to lost affection, i love that i am able to see the aptitude in small steps' truths, as opposed to so focused on the future, as if that was our possession to begin with.
s
summer staring at the wasp in the room
                             mkay, i should really go  } {  byeeee {  good night! {  see ya soon {  ttyl darling <3                                                                   _|                                  .                              .                          . come morning after noon catch me curled up on the couch, crying over dreams that died of old age & doubting gouge marks into my mouth. tears. tears. i am torn to pieces; the little rips on my hems don't translate as well-loved, only worn well and washed out. i didn't give up on the visions, they gave up on me. i slept on my side with a fresh scar t
b
but, i digress.
my head hurts where my jaw hooks like a coat hanger onto the rest of my face my condyle cracking like someone threw goldfish into the gears of my sweet, lovely "temporomandibular" joints jesus what a word also this can now officially be called a poem because i have used an obscure, anatomical term and everyone knows that you're not a poet until you start making metaphors with physiological vocabulary (but seriously, ouch)
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© 2015 - 2019 scheherazades
:icongliitchmonth:

today's theme: structure is dead
Recommended Literature
f
future and her intangible ideals (#7)
sighing for love, light and laughter, you are redolent like fragrant memories, and new books filled with old history. i recall your voice telling me that you hoped to outlive those red roses. you were always a perennial admirer with infinite ambition, but the last decision you made caused us to be only an annual occurrence. in relation to lost affection, i love that i am able to see the aptitude in small steps' truths, as opposed to so focused on the future, as if that was our possession to begin with.
s
summer staring at the wasp in the room
                             mkay, i should really go  } {  byeeee {  good night! {  see ya soon {  ttyl darling <3                                                                   _|                                  .                              .                          . come morning after noon catch me curled up on the couch, crying over dreams that died of old age & doubting gouge marks into my mouth. tears. tears. i am torn to pieces; the little rips on my hems don't translate as well-loved, only worn well and washed out. i didn't give up on the visions, they gave up on me. i slept on my side with a fresh scar t
b
but, i digress.
my head hurts where my jaw hooks like a coat hanger onto the rest of my face my condyle cracking like someone threw goldfish into the gears of my sweet, lovely "temporomandibular" joints jesus what a word also this can now officially be called a poem because i have used an obscure, anatomical term and everyone knows that you're not a poet until you start making metaphors with physiological vocabulary (but seriously, ouch)
Featured in groupsSee All
Comments10
anonymous's avatar
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peaseblossoms's avatar
there are no words to describe the brilliance this has!!!
scheherazades's avatar
scheherazadesHobbyist Writer
or the brilliance you have <3
peaseblossoms's avatar
<333333333333333333333333333333 or yours either!!!!! QvQ
saltwaterlungs's avatar
saltwaterlungsHobbyist Writer
This is awesome, and I particularly love the second stanza!
scheherazades's avatar
scheherazadesHobbyist Writer
thank you !!
gliitchlord's avatar
oooh these verses
chromeantennae's avatar
chromeantennaeHobbyist Writer
i absolutely adore this with my everything :3
anonymous's avatar
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